Mr. CEO(22)

Hannah stands next to Hastings with a stack of large booklets in her hand. Mr. Hastings gives her a tight smile and then gestures at the bundle she’s holding. “Hannah here has all the packets of information you’ll need about the new company and housing. All of you are expected to have moved and completed the transfer by the end of the workday, and will be required to attend tomorrow at the new work site. If you can’t move your items to your new office, simply label the boxes and put them against the far wall. The movers will handle the transfer for you and they’ll be waiting for you in the new building tomorrow.”

I barely pay attention to the questions everyone asks and the vague answers Hastings has as I accept my packet of information from Hannah, and try to stop worrying about the long drive that I’m going to have now. At least I have a job. I keep telling myself that throughout the meeting. That’s what matters.

The meeting’s finally adjourned, and I return to my office without a word. There are moving supplies lined up against the far wall and I grab a roll of packing tape and a few boxes. I think I’ll only need two.

Eva’s gabbing with the other girls, but I just want to get this going and begin sifting through my things, making sure everything’s in order. I can talk to them later, when I’m calm and less on edge. My hands tremble as I organize my things, a feeling of anxiety overtaking my body.

I hate this shit. I don’t want to have to relocate. I tape up the bottom of one box and cringe at the sound of the tape pulling from the roll. I grit my teeth as I pick up the things from my desk and easily set everything in the box. It’s like deja vu. I just did this. I close my eyes and cringe. I just fucking did this.

Eva comes in when I’m almost finished taping up the last of my boxes and I try to keep a positive vibe around me. I don’t want my negativity rubbing off on her.

“You know, this could turn out to be pretty good,” she tells me as she steps into my small office. It’s really small and with her in the doorway, it already feels cramped.

She has a stack of papers in her hand and a smile on her face. “I heard we’re going to be getting raises, and the new company is going to be bringing in an influx of clients.” She leans against the wall, making herself comfortable. “Hastings is so excited about this. He told me there’s going to be huge opportunities for us.”

“I’ll believe it when it happens,” I say skeptically.

“Pessimist,” Eva teases. She begins to walk out of the room, but then stops. “Hey, you know what? I just looked up our new boss on my phone. He’s fucking crazy hot. Like seriously, I don’t even know how he’s a CEO of a company and not out modeling somewhere.”

Probably not as hot as Logan, I think to myself.

“Let me see,” I say. I almost want to tell her about Logan… I wanna brag, but I shouldn’t. A one-night stand doesn’t color anyone in a pretty light.

“You’re gonna totally flip,” Eva warns me. She walks over to my desk and sets her papers down and then pulls her cell out the pocket of her chic-as-fuck pantsuit. I eye it with a hint of jealousy as she brings up the picture. “Say hello to our new boss. Or as I’d like to say, BILF.” She takes out her phone and brandishes it my face, grinning with absolutely glee. “See? Isn’t he the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen?”

My heart nearly stops at the grinning face staring back at me. Eva stares at me, waiting for me to react, but I can’t speak. Not a single. Fucking. Word.

Oh my God. It’s him.





Chapter 12





Logan





I lean back on the bench. It’s nearly six thirty and I need to leave. I’m anxious to leave, in fact. I haven’t been this damn excited for work in years.

The crisp morning air whips across my freshly shaven face. It feels refreshing as I take a deep inhale and listen to the wind. The soft, relaxing sounds are interrupted by my father’s low, gruff voice. Bringing me back to the present.

“How was the conference?” he asks me. His voice is a bit muffled. It’s not the strong tone I grew up with. His stroke left him paralyzed down his entire left side.

I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and look up at him. He’s on the opposite bench. I’m facing the the stone wall of the back of the nursing home and he’s overlooking the woods behind me. “Productive. I knew it would be.”

He nods his head and looks behind me. The daylight is just rising through the trees behind the nursing home. It’s private and the gardens are comforting for my father. Or so he says.

“So you settled on which of the two?” he asks. Although the stroke left him physically impaired, he’s mentally the same man he's always been, and I do my best to include him. Although I don’t have to. But it gives him something to do that’s useful. His life used to revolve around work. It was all he had. Growing up, I barely ever saw him and when I did, he made sure I knew I was being groomed to take over the business.