Mr. CEO(41)

“Your ex?” I ask, as if I don’t know who she’s talking about. I now know everything about that fuckface. I resist the urge to take out my anger on her and instead I slip my jacket off and lay it neatly on the desk.

“Yes. Ex.” She emphasizes the word and it’s the first time since she’s been in here that she’s had any confidence in her voice. Good. The anger turns to a low simmer and I turn away to unbutton the cuffs of my shirt.

“I am completely over him.” She throws her hands to the side and continues to talk with her eyes focused on the desk. “I swear, there’s nothing there whatsoever.” She pauses and a flash of sadness crosses her eyes. “He just… won’t leave.” There’s a hint of desperation in her voice and her eyes gloss over with unshed tears. She fights them back and continues, “Him and my friend--ex-friend, they were there this morning and-”

I turn and face her and press, “Won’t leave?”

“Yes,” she says with conviction. “It’s my apartment. It may be shitty, but it’s mine. I had it before he moved in, and now he’s refusing to leave.”

I walk quickly back around my desk and hit the spacebar to bring the computer back to life. Ian Rutherford‘s information is still there.

Charlotte goes quiet. And after a moment she reaches for her purse. Her voice is tight as she says, “Anyway, I just wanted to clear that up.” She sounds defeated as she stands.

“What are you doing?” I ask her.

“I’m gonna head out,” she says listlessly.

“The fuck you are. You’re going to go back to him?”

For a moment she’s shocked, but then the anger sets in. She takes harsh steps toward me with her heels clicking loudly on the floor.

She points her finger at me and parts those gorgeous lips of hers to snap at me, but I’m quicker.

“How badly do you want to fuck him over?” I ask in a low voice.

Her hand slowly lowers and the hard lines in her face soften. She waits a moment to answer, “I just want him gone.”

Yes. That’s what I want to hear. No anger. Nothing for him, not even anything negative. Empathy is far worse than anger.

“You can simply end the lease.”

“I-” she stops herself and goes back to being uncertain. “I need to wait on the housing.”

I pick up the phone and call Trent. It’s a little after five now, but he should still be here. The phone rings and rings. Finally, he answers.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you after our meeting today,” he answers.

I huff into the phone. The meeting didn’t go so well. It’s rare that we disagree, but that’s exactly what happened.

“Did you call to tell me I’m right?” he asks.

I let out a small humorless grunt and choose not to answer him. I don’t have the time or energy to get into that shit with him again. “I need a favor.”

“What’s that?” he asks. I can hear Charlotte moving in the office. She has her purse in her hands as she walks over to the wall of meaningless awards displayed in place of family photos that don’t exist for me.

“I need one of the housing units.”

“For Armcorp?” he asks. I bring up his email along with all the details he needs. And then I start typing everything in, including Charlotte’s current address.

“Yes,” I answer as Rose turns back to face me. Part of me expects her to object. She’s not one to hand over control so easily. But she doesn’t.

“I have an employee that needs to be moved in by tomorrow morning. I want a moving truck there now, her lease ended, and everything in place by tomorrow.”

“I’ll need her-”

“Sent,” I answer, hitting the enter button and sending him all her information.

Charlotte walks over to my side of the desk and I’m quick to shut off the screen and turn to her in my chair.

“Can do, anything else?” Trent asks. My Rose sets her purse on my desk and sits easily on my lap.

“That’s all.”

“You’re going to tell me I was right and you were wrong one of these days, Logan.” I smile into the phone.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath if I was you.” I wrap my arm around Charlotte’s waist and pull her in closer. “I have to go.”

“Good night, Logan,” I hear him say as I slowly set the phone back down on the hook.

Charlotte leans closer to me, her lips close to mine.

“Thank you,” she barely whispers. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to do a lot of things; I do them because I want to.”

She closes her eyes and presses her lips to mine in a sweet kiss. “Thank you.” She pulls away and looks down at her purse. “Are you doing anything tonight?” she asks, a little uncertain.