"Mr Gunn accepts the first two conditions," Miss Collins announces on the follow-up meeting after I laid out five things to be brought to him prior my agreement to the contract, "But he won't tolerate the remaining three."
First, I will never, under any circumstances, have sex with him be it oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, fingering or hand jobs, dry humping or genital rubbing, or masturbation.Fucking wrap your junk and hide it from me.Second, I will not sleep with him even without any physical contact.Because satan is always beside us to influence us towards sinful acts.Third, I will only be available during the weekend.Fourth, I will not live with him.Fifth, family is off-limit. Be it mine, or his."So I have to live with him full-time?" That would be impossible, "I have my day job. There is no way I'm gonna apply leave from work for three months straight for him." Even if it guarantees me a hundred and fifty thousand dollar.That's 2.1 billion rupiah. I will not just be a millionaire, I'll be a fucking billionaire."Scarlett works too, Sweetheart." Drey is not helping with that little information."But she isn't a Geomodeller. I bet she works at a foundation or something, doing rich wife charity." Unlike me who's doing a less glamorous work, just sitting behind a desk clicking buttons in front of the computer from 8 to 5."She actually works in finance," he supplies, "Doing real work. Just like you."I'm seriously surprised to learn the lady is somewhat normal despite her appearance. I thought she's at least in fashion, since all her outfits scream limited-edition and in-season only."Why would she work? I thought Mr Gunn is ‘rich’ rich?""Maybe that's what he liked about her." He shrugs, to which I nod understandingly. Some men do like independent women, perhaps he's one of them."So we can wave off item number three?" Miss Collins conclude."But I can't live with him. That would contradict number two." And I'm not gonna compromise number two, ever."Fun fact," Drey interrupts again, "Scarlett has her own room."This is even more surprising, "Are you for real? Why? I thought he loves her? Why would he sleep separately with a woman he's obsessed with? That doesn't make sense.""Well, that's what rich people do."Oh?"Three, four, done. Five shouldn't be an issue, Alya?" Miss Collins asks."Five is actually more to his family. I'm slightly uncomfortable to pose as the wife in front of his family. They must've known I'm a fake."Drey chuckles lightly, "Don't worry. You're not the first fake wife he'd bring to his family events," I'm quite stunned to learn he actually involved the fake Scarletts in his family affair, "And you won't be the last either."***I am exhausted.Wait. The word ‘exhausted’ won't even define the state I'm in. I am BEYOND exhausted to the point of quitting this instant.Oh yes, I use the phrase ‘quitting this instant’ quite often because I AM a quitter. I hate challenges, I hate new things, I hate, hate, HATEEEE changes.Right after I signed the contract, I was enrolled into Drey's extensive training for him to ‘sculpt’ me (his word, not mine) into the Scarlett he aspires me to be. Or should I say, the Scarlett Mr Gunn aspires me to be?I'm under this strict schedule he has set for the next two months that I had started to regret it on the first day itself.Every day after work, I have to go to Cupcake office building for an hour of etiquette class with him. After that I'll be off to the gym to work out with a trainer he has specifically chosen for me for a duration of three hours. Only then, by midnight, I'll be home to repeat the same thing tomorrow morning.Thankfully I only need to work out three days straight then I'd get one rest day, though that three hours would be spent for a lecture with Drey on how to talk like Scarlett.During the weekend, it's even more tiring since I'll be spending the whole day with him to learn on how to dress like Scarlett, how to apply make up like Scarlett, how to smile-frown-angry-insert-all-emotions-here like Scarlett that I swear, by the end of this two months training, I will REALLY be one convincing Scarlett he aspires me to be.Worst of all, I'm on a strict diet that I have to take a picture of every meal to show him what I'm eating as well as the portion size; eight meals a day with the portion the size of my palm, only steamed slash baked slash salad is allowed with white meat only, none of those juicy steak or my favorite cheese burger.Sometimes I do want to lie to him by having a burger on the side but I don't have the courage to do that; he's really good at reading me. Maybe that's why he was chosen to be the one to train all the Scarletts."You can only call him Honey. Not Mr Gunn, not his first name, just Honey. Only Honey is allowed."I laugh thinking how awkward it would be during our first meeting next month that I have to call him Honey straightaway."He would call you B," he ignores my laugh as he always does, being totally serious during our class, "Which stands for Baby. Or Bee the zzzzz. I'm not sure myself but it will be B for you. Or anything he feels like calling you. But the default would be B so whenever he calls B or mentions B, that would be you.""He won't call me Scarlett?" I giggle as I ask, still think it's funny the way he buzzes like a bee just now."He can call you anything he wants, Sweetheart," and there it is, "Please pay attention to what I said.""But what if he ask me to call him other than Honey? What if he wants me to call him-""Alya," he calls my name after taking a deep breath, calming himself, "He pays you a great amount of money to be Scarlett. If he wants you to call him Daddy, you.call.him.Daddy. That's nothing compared to what we've done since the past four weeks."He's right, calling him Daddy is nothing if we were to compare to the hours I've spent learning on how to be Scarlett Monroe.I thought he'd be proud to know I've memorised all the utensils on which to use for what but he's a tough one to please because I stutter the moment he asked me to demonstrate on how to use the spoon for soup in case it's hot. "You do it half moon crescent," he runs his spoon in the soup in front of him, "Not blowing it as if you're playing trumpet." I giggle again and pick up my soup spoon, copying his act, "Like this?" "Make sure your spoon is facing the other way when you dip into the soup." I sigh, "I'd rather not eat soup in front of people my entire life if there is so many rules to follow." I'm sure he'll faint if he sees how hard I blow my instant noodle and slurp it loudly whenever I‘m eating it. No, not eating it. GOBBLING it. After we're done with the food etiquette class, it's the styling class next. It's a miracle no matter how many hours I've spent with him for this particular class, there will always be something new to know about Scarlett, or being a rich woman i
"Is it laundry day?" My sister, Dian teases me in Indonesian as she munches on her snack while watching me button the tweed jacket I've just put on. "No, no, no. Wrong question. Is it pay day?" Oh I know what she meant by that. Being sisters means we share our clothes despite the difference in our size; she's two sizes smaller so she can wear mine but I can never fit into hers. That also means she knows every article of clothing I own, and this two-piece skirt suit is too obvious for being a brand new expensive-looking item I just owned. "Whose is it?" "Not mine." "Yeaaaaa I know it's not yours, obviously," she rolls her eyes at the last word, "But who's the designer? How much is it?" To be honest, I have no idea how much does this skirt suit cost. All I know is Drey specifically asked me to wear this on my first meeting with Mr Gunn. Uhh, I mean Honey. "Uhm let me check," I walk to my bed and grab the skirt I laid there, wanting to inspect the tag at the back to which she ga
"Go to the penthouse, meet him there. Have dinner with him. Off you go to your own bedroom to end the night."Step one is completed, now onto step two. Honestly, I'm prepared to give him two kisses a day, as per Drey's briefing. One would be in the morning, when I send him to the door before he go to work. The second would be at night, right before we depart to each other's bedroom. And those kisses were supposed to be lip-locked but being a hard headed, I made it a non-negotiable condition on top of the two he agreed earlier before I signed the contract, that I will only kiss his cheek, unlike the previous Scarletts who would have no problem to kiss him on the lips. I'm a Muslim, remember? But that, was unexpected. I thought I have at least an hour or two to decide if I'm pulling myself out of this charade but one minute in, he already marked his lips on my body. My hair, to be exact. "Bee," the way he calls me as he goes down the stairs gives me this certain vibe, as if I'm r
"Tell him I-love-you as much as you want, that's part of your job description. And don't worry, he won't fall for you." "He never fall in love with any of the Scarletts?" "Nope. Every time we have a new Scarlett he has no problem to switch them up." "You mean he currently has a Scarlett? Like right-now?""Her contract will be terminated just before yours is activated, as in your first day with him." "What? I thought you said he's nice?" "He is. But this is a business transaction. If we have a new product, of course he wants the latest version.""So we're like iPhones? To be changed every time a new one is available? He's a jerk alright." I still remember that conversation I had with Drey, and the remark I made of calling him a jerk. But when he said ‘I love you’ just now, he doesn't seem like he's lying. Like he's not the jerk I thought he was. "I love you too, Honey." I reply sweetly, silently knocking my head to remind me that I'm on the clock. He said I-love-you to Scarlet
This is harder than I imagined. To maintain Scarlett's image, I get out of his penthouse in another designer skirt suit and a pair of Louboutin with matching Hermes Kelly. My hair as instructed by Drey, is kept in a low bun."Scarlett will always wear a suit to work, be it a pantsuit or a skirt suit. Bag, always Hermes either a Birkin or a Kelly. Shoes, make sure they're at least four inches high. Hair, in a bun. A professional bun, very much different than a formal dinner bun. And lastly, red lipstick." I am struggling over here to remove this pencil skirt that will be replaced with a pair of slacks. My slacks. Because it'd be weird to wear a headscarf with a skirt that stops a little over the knee. God, it's so hard to have double personalities. Once I'm done with my pants, I put on my hijab to cover my blonde hair. Then I swipe the red color off my lips and use my usual nude lipstick. Lastly, I replace the Louboutin with my Salvatore Ferragamo flats, the one I always opt for wo
I've always had this dilemma whenever I travel, ESPECIALLY when I travel with my family. We are foodie people, we travel mostly because of food, and travelling overseas means we don't really get halal food all the time. It's easy for my family because they don't mind eating anything as long as it's not pork. But for me, who's a bit particular about food, since I've gotta maintain my hijabis image and all, I'd always opt for vegan or kosher meals. Until it reaches the seventh or eighth day of our vacation that I'd get sick of eating the same old limited-option vegan and kosher meals while watching my family gobble anything in the world except pork. That's how my faith fades a bit and I start to taste just a bite of what they're having that suddenly, out of nowhere, I'm already ordering a full meal for myself. And now, after three months of living in New York with those limited food option, I am now being served a plate of meat that looked fucking delicious with such beautiful deco
My wardrobe is stocked with different types of clothes, already being categorised accordingly by Drey to ease me in choosing one without getting confused. Casual wear-home, casual wear-dates, casual wear-family, casual wear-friends, oh God how many categories are there for casual wear alone? Then there are nightgowns, workwear, brunch dresses, lunch dresses, tea dresses, dinner dresses, Goddd there are so many categories I'm beginning to wonder how committed Drey is with his job for being thisss particular, on top of the extensive training he put me on for two months straight. Today is my first weekend with Honey, and if my memory serves, we're going to have a picnic later. I'm not sure when will it be but for now, I need to worry on what to wear between his coffee at 7 and brunch at 11- assuming we're really having a picnic brunch later- so what should I wear when I'm home with him? Yeah yeah, I have this entire section dedicated for ‘casual wear-home’ but which one should I choo
I've gotta say I'm proud of myself. I wasn't always overweight. I've been in the normal BMI range the entire school years until I broke up with my boyfriend after graduation. From there on, I went into this steep line of climbing towards overweight in just three months that from a normal size 6, I went to size 12, sometimes 10 if I wear clothes fit to my body but mostly 12, because I like baggy clothes to hide my figure. So yeah, it's all because of that motherfucker. He didn't just broke my heart, he inspired me to eat crappy food -as crappy as him- that I swell everywhere with fat, making me gain kilos that I hadn't been able to lose until ten years later. That ten-years-later was two months ago when Drey put me on this strict diet with workout-regime-from-hell that I managed to lose weight to size 8, though Drey insists I look better in size 6. From what I saw in the wardrobe, Drey clearly ignores my preference as most of the clothes are in size 6. So here I am, sitting on the