The sun chose today, of all days, to learn how to bend beams of sunlight to avoid Andrew's blackout curtains and shine directly on his face. He groaned deep in his chest as he buried his face into his pillows. He stretched out his limbs but observed that his sheets suddenly felt a little too expensive for just three hundred Pesos. The only time his skin can caress a fabric this luxurious is when he delivers documents to sir Allen's house. Huh.

He shot up from the bed. He eyed the minimal black & white décor and the room's utter lack of warmth and humanity. Honestly, he'd prefer a kidnapping than face Sir Allen in the morning. This was beyond his pay grade. But Andrew wasn't sure why he felt he's got the upper hand today.

Still in last night's attire, he refreshed himself in the en suite bathroom and stepped out of the room. He then got a whiff of a delicious breakfast meal. He hoped it was Jollibee and a couple of milkshakes.

He shuffled into the kitchen fit for a restaurant. Sir Allen in front of the stove, wearing matching pajamas and an apron, cooking his signature omelet. Scrambled eggs on the pan, a bit of herb, sliced tomatoes, sliced cheese, and when everything smelled great, he would gently fold the omelet.

Sir Allen was always an unstoppable force of nature in the office. Motivated and goal-oriented. Except when he was cooking. This was something Andrew had observed on the rare occasion he got to see the man cook.

"Good Morning, Sir Allen."

His boss' reaction to his greeting was a flinch, a pause, an awkward turn, then an Oscar-winning throat clearing. Andrew flashed a professional smile.

"I'll make us some coffee while you finish that."

Half-black coffee, half full cream milk, and no sugar for the chef devoid of human warmth and social skills. And a sweet blend of milk with coffee and honey for the baddest bitch alive. Sir Allen placed two plates of rice and omelet and Andrew handed Sir Allen his coffee. Andrew also grabbed some kiwi slices from the fridge. They sat down at the dining table on opposite sides.

"Are you feeling well?" Sir Allen asked between bites. "You consumed a considerable volume of alcohol last night."

So, that confirms Sir Allen was in the club when Andrew chugged that pitcher of margarita. On a normal day, he wouldn't how this scenario would go down. But now the tables have been flipped...Andrew wasn't sure that was the right metaphor.

"I'm good, especially with five million in my future." Sir Allen froze for a second then he grabbed his throat as his eyes bulged. He was choking. For a split second, Andrew paused and thought to just let him die and steal the five million.

He thought better against it. Murder was illegal.

He immediately circled the counter and handed him his cup of coffee. When Sir Allen was all better and they were seated, Sir Allen burst out: "I cannot believe you hesitated!"

Andrew rolled his eyes. His lips were curled into a sly smile. "I did not pause. Also, that was a total overreaction as you were the one who brought up the deal."

Andrew pointed his fork at him, which Sir Allen brought down with a napkin.

"Don't point with your silvers, I told you it's rude." He continued, but with more volume in his voice. "I was simply surprised. I always saw you as someone so professional, I thought you were like that inside and outside of the office. It just shocked that after six years of working, it was the first time I saw the outside Secretary Andrew."

Andrew narrowed his eyes and ignored Sir Allen's previous comment. "So, let's talk about this fake boyfriend plan of yours. You're willing to give me ten million pesos and a penthouse just so we can make sure that you don't inherit the business. I thought you'd be over the moon by this. Like one of those rich eldest sons in the shows."

"It's five million and a studio apartment," said Sir Allen with a matching sigh. "And it's not that I dislike the company. It's the opposite of what I feel, I treasure it but," he paused. His grip on the cup tightened to the degree that Andrew was afraid the mug was going to break.

"Alright, alright, Sir Allen. Just tell me how we're going to proceed with your plan."

"You're not going to ask why?"

Andrew shrugged. "Hey, if it's hard for you to spill. I won't force you."

You can go bend over and die instead, Sir Allen.

"Thank you." Sir Allen sighed, blissfully unaware of Andrew's murderous thoughts. He seemed relieved as his expression had returned: the scowling, yet confident face he wore when he was presenting. Wait, what's happening. Why is he connecting a small projector to his phone? A collection of well-composed slides were flashed on the kitchen wall.

"Sir Allen, I can't believe you made a presentation for this." Andrew paused as he fished his mind for a compliment. "You are efficient. It's direct to the point."

There were three bullet points on the slide:

Moving forward, let us treat each other comfortably as friends.

The plan should not harm, in whatever shape or form, the business. But How?

I give you the money ONLY when the mission succeeds.

"It seems self-explanatory enough," said Andrew, his eyes narrowed for each bullet. What a load of barnacles. "No offense, Sir. I know you said I'm one of your trusted colleagues and all, but it's going to be hard to treat each other as friends after all these years of being your secretary."

Sir Allen nodded with a serious face. "I need you to know that from now on, I want you to be yourself. No need for the perfect Secretary Andrew persona. And I meant what I said about me trusting you."

"Fucking bitch."

Sir Allen's eyebrows skyrocketed the moment the words left Andrew's lips. Sir Allen rubbed his temple in circles. "All right, all right. Point taken. Let's take the casual talk step-by-step. Any suggestions for the second bullet?"

"That's basic," said Andrew. Finally relaxing his posture. "After securing the inheritance, you finally dare to bring home your trashy boyfriend and reveal the vile person that you are. Hence, your parents will force you to choose. Your beloved or the position. Simple, oh and also—" Andrew swiped the phone and added another bullet: Sir Allen should pay for all expenses incurred.

"All right. I agree," said Sir Allen, nodding along. "I told you, casual. No boss and secretary outside of work. Or else we wouldn't be comfortable enough with each other to do this. Call me Allen. And may I remind you that we are only two years apart."

"All right, all right. Allen. Let's shake on it." Andrew extended his hand. Woah. Sir Allen's face just lit up with happiness as he shook Andrew's hand. "No going back on your word, alright?" Andrew couldn't help but smile at the rare sight before him, a smiling Sir Allen. "You're very handsome when you smile, Sir Allen."

And now the next surprise, Sir Allen's smile dropped as his cheeks flushed a scarlet hue. Andrew chuckled to himself as he realized this is also the first time that he's seeing Sir Allen outside of his office persona. Also, it was fun that Andrew has the upper hand. Maybe he could ask for more vacation leaves. "I have one concern though. Are you okay with pretending to be gay in front of your fam?"

Sir Allen nodded. "I have no qualms with it. I'll use this chance to come out."

"You're gay? How come you never told me? I thought I was your trusted friend or whatever."

"You adapted to the casual talk rather quickly, don't' you think? You were so vehement about it in the beginning." Andrew frowned.

"Well, you did say you always expect the best from your employees. Com'n spill. How come you never told?"

"Well, you never told me you were an alcoholic."

"Touché...And I'm not an alcoholic. I was just stressed."

"Thank you for not making a huge deal of this and not treating it as a joke." Sir Allen glanced at his feet. "You're taking this a lot more calmly than I would have anticipated."

"Well, aside from me not really caring about your family's opinion, you're also paying me. Besides, it makes you look more human." The voice in the back of Andrew's mind whispered that this was all going to crash and burn, leaving Andrew scarred forever. But Andrew tended to ignore that voice who sounded a lot like a reality TV mom.

The doorbell rang. Its simple tune echoed throughout the house. Both men exchanged glances.

"Are you expecting anyone?" asked Andrew as he finished off his breakfast and cleaned the table.

"No," Sir Allen's replied. "I will see who's on the door. Let's continue our discussion in the living room."

Andrew only hummed in response. He went back to Sir Allen's room to check on his belongings. Most importantly, his bag of cash. Which he discovered wasn't in the room. Then he heard chatter from the living room, and he picked up some few words from the constrained voices, "Mom, Dad. What are you doing here?"

Damn. The parents!