The Stripper (MikhAiah)

13: Gift, Lift, & Conversation

AIAH

I had double-checked Mikha's schedule—nothing. She'd be at the company all day. Could my luck get any worse? Last night had gone off the rails, when all I'd planned for was a quiet dinner with Jeremy. But after that almost-kiss with Mikha... I'd left that place completely distracted.

"Are you okay, Aiah?" Jeremy's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, just a bit of a headache. Can you take me home?"

He gave me a look—annoyed, definitely. He'd expected more from the night. But with Mikha only a few meters away back there, how could I think about anyone else? I sighed and grabbed my purse.

"Sure. Let's go. I'll take you home."

Before leaving, I glanced once more at the table Mikha had been at. No sign of her. Had she already left? Or maybe gone off with someone? Colet was gone too. Probably left together.

The ride home was quiet, and tense. The kind of silence that makes your ears ring. It was obvious: the night had been a disaster. Well—not for everyone. Maloi and Stacey seemed to hit it off with Donny and Maki. Jeremy, on the other hand, had been in a bad mood ever since Mikha walked in and sat beside me. Did he feel something between us? No. Stop overthinking.

"We're here," he said, pulling up to my building.

"Thanks for tonight. I had a good time." A lie. Or maybe not. Seeing Mikha had been the best part.

"Really? I thought it was kind of a mess. But you get me, right? There's something about that woman I don't like."

"Mikha? I don't understand. She's actually... nice."

"To you, maybe. Which is weird. She just comes off as shallow and arrogant."

"You don't even know her, Jeremy. That's not fair."

"I'm not afraid to say it, Aiah. Ever since she showed up, everything's been off. Remember those insane hours you spent working on her balance sheet?"

"Jeremy, I'm tired. My head is killing me. Can we not talk about work right now?" I said, sharper than I meant to.

"Sorry. I was being an idiot. I know tonight wasn't great, but... maybe we can still salvage it?"

I looked at him. His eyes were kind—warm even. But they weren't her eyes. I lowered my gaze, thinking of a polite way to end things for the night. But then he leaned in, gently lifting my chin so I'd face him again.

"You're so beautiful, Aiah."

"Thanks... but I really need to go. I'll see you tomorrow." I stepped out of the car before he could say anything else.

"I want you in my office. Two minutes." Mikha's husky voice caught me off guard, making every nerve in my body tingle.

I looked up. She was already disappearing into her office.

God, please let her not remember anything from last night.

I took a breath, grabbed my notebook, adjusted my glasses, and walked slowly into her office.

"Miss Lim."

She turned to face me, her sharp brown eyes locking onto mine. I hated how weak I felt under that gaze. Her eyes dropped, scanning me head to toe, and I swallowed hard. She shut her eyes tightly for a moment, then gave her head a small shake.

"List my meetings for the day, Miss Arceta," she said, exhaling.

I blinked—probably too much—then quickly flipped through my notes. The day was quiet. Mikha barely left her office. Her hangover was showing—evident in her tired eyes and the way she massaged her temples every few minutes.