Clashing with the CEO

Chapter 1

Chapter One

T he moment I’d been dreading all night had arrived.

Leon and I stood outside my building, the air thick with tension. He tilted his head, blond hair falling artfully across his face, and arched an eyebrow.

My heart raced. I couldn’t mess this up—I’d been burned too many times by guys who just wanted a casual hook-up. Our date went well, and Leon seemed different, but I needed to set the tone from the start.

Leon folded his arms. “Well?”

I forced myself to look past his ridiculously handsome features—the mesmerising blue eyes, the sharp cheekbones, the lips just begging to be kissed. Keeping a level head was crucial. “Thank you for walking me home. I had a nice evening.”

“Me too.” Leon stepped closer. “I was hoping we could... keep it going?”

Subtlety wasn’t his strong suit, apparently. Still, my knees went a little wobbly at the suggestion. I let out a nervous laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as unhinged as I suspected it did. “I like you, Leon. But I want to take things slow, so let’s call it a night.”

For a torturous moment, I braced myself for the wounded-ego routine—the pout, the outburst, or some other childish display. But to Leon’s credit, he just sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “You sure?”

“Yes.” I aimed for an apologetic, yet resolute tone.

Leon tensed for a second, but then he shrugged, regaining his composure. “All right then. Bye, Milly. See you around, I guess.”

“I’ll text you.” I cringed inwardly, hating how it came out more like a question than a statement.

“Sure.”

With that, he turned and sauntered away, hands shoved in the tight pockets of his black skinny jeans. I watched him go, letting out a giddy exhale. Despite his obvious disappointment, he seemed to take the rejection well. Or maybe he was just trying to play it cool?

No . I refused to second-guess myself. I did the smart, practical thing by turning him down. No more wasting time on the wrong guys.

I entered my apartment building feeling satisfied this would pan out just as I intended. Leon would get over the slight blow to his ego, and a second date would be on the horizon.

I boggled at the notification on my phone the next morning. A message from Leon so soon? I unlocked the screen, biting my lip to stop myself from grinning like a lunatic in front of all the other train passengers on their morning commute.

You were so fuckin sexy last night. Sorry had to leave early. Let’s do it again sometime?

I blinked. What?

Something was off about the message. It didn’t quite align with what happened on our date. In fact, it sounded like he was talking about a different experience. A weight sank to the pit of my stomach as I reread the message, but before I could process it further, it disappeared. Leon had deleted it.

The truth hit me like a bucket of ice water. The message wasn’t meant for me. Leon must have seen someone else last night. No wonder he was so calm about the rejection. He had a backup plan all along.

That jerk!

He never cared about me. He was just like all the other dud guys I’d ever had the displeasure of dating.

Agh!

The train doors jolted open at Britomart Station, passengers spilling out onto the platform. I hurried along with the throng.

How could I have been so blind? Looking back, the signs had been there all along. He had only talked about himself, he was whiny when I wouldn’t order a second drink, and he couldn’t walk me home without asking to come in.

I quickened my pace, weaving through the other pedestrians on my way to work.

The Luxmore Appliances head office was a twenty-floor tower on the corner of Hobson Street and Customs Street. I barged through the double doors into the lobby, then marched straight to the lifts. I stood with my arms crossed, foot tapping an agitated rhythm while I waited.

I can do much better than him anyway . I’m an intelligent, attractive young woman. I have my own apartment and a decent job. Any straight, single man would find me desirable. I bet the next available man I see wouldn’t turn me down if I gave him a chance.

Right on cue, the lift door opened. Its occupant: one man.

Startled, I looked away, heat flaring in my cheeks. The man didn’t exit, and I was the only person waiting to get on. Reaffirming my little bet with myself, I gave him a once-over as I stepped inside. What I saw made me pause.

This man wasn’t my type at all. He looked much older than me, and he wasn’t handsome. A far cry from pretty-boy Leon and his ilk. The man’s black hair was immaculately groomed, and he had shrewd, dark eyes. A defined jawline led to stern lips and down his throat to a prominent Adam’s apple peeking from his crisp shirt collar. He wore a suit which screamed tailor-made and expensive, not to mention the Rolex on his wrist. He exuded an aura of power.

Must be in upper management.

I looked at the keypad. Sure enough, he had selected the twentieth floor. All the top executives had their offices on the twentieth floor—the highest level of the building. He either worked there, or he was a visiting businessman from another company.

As I pressed the button for the fifth floor, I could feel the man’s intense eyes boring holes into me. I wondered if he was checking me out.

Maybe he really is interested in me?

I didn’t know what to make of it. He was too old for me, and he wasn’t my type at all. Then again, he was far from decrepit—early forties at most. He looked fit and well-groomed, and he was probably intelligent and ambitious if he held a high position like I suspected. Maybe it was time to broaden my horizons. Besides, I could use the confidence boost.

Mind made up, I turned on my charm offensive and flashed him the sweetest smile I could muster. “Good morning.”

His jaw tightened, and the veins in his neck flexed. He left me hanging for a long beat, an inscrutable expression on his face.

The corners of my mouth twitched, unable to hold up the smile much longer as awkwardness set in. Our eye contact was on the verge of unbearable when he finally spoke. “You’re…” His voice was low, and he had a hint of a posh English accent.

What’s this? All I had expected was a simple “Good morning” in return.

Is he actually going to hit on me? I can’t believe it.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Your top’s inside out.”

Huh?

“My…” I looked down and examined my blouse while feeling behind my neck for the tag. Sure enough, the seams were showing, and the tag was on the outside. A fresh surge of heat burst onto my face. “Oh!” I spluttered. “Thanks for telling me.”

He didn’t say another word.

I hurried out as soon as the door opened onto the fifth floor, nearly tripping over my feet on the way. I didn’t know what was more embarrassing, an upper-management staff member seeing me with my top on inside out, or several strangers having witnessed the same thing during my commute.

What’s wrong with me today?

I headed straight to the bathroom before anyone else could glimpse my wardrobe malfunction. In the safety of a vacant stall, I shrugged off my overstuffed bag and hooked it on the back of the door. My blouse came off next. I checked it was the right way around, then slipped it back over my sweaty head.

Properly dressed, I emerged from the stall and double-checked my appearance in the mirrors above the row of immaculate white basins. My forehead was shiny, and my cheeks were pink, but apart from that, everything was in order. I smoothed a hand through my hair.

Okay, so it’s been a shitty morning. That doesn’t mean that the rest of the day has to follow suit. Forget about Leon. Forget about that man in the lift. I’ve got more important things to think about.

I left the bathroom with my head held high, vowing not to let anything else rattle my self-composure.

An arctic blast from the air conditioner made me hunch my shoulders as I entered the communications department. I walked along the uniform row of wooden desks to my designated workstation and placed my phone, diary, and pen case into position. I had the tidiest desk on the entire floor, earning me the title of Resident Neat Freak among the staff. My neatness extended to the digital realm too, leading to my second nickname: File Management Nazi.

Brooke arrived shortly. She was wearing a green dress today, and her long dark was loose and straight. “Hey, Milly,” she said, taking her seat at the desk next to mine.

“Hi, Brooke.”

She leaned in close. “Sooo… How did your date go?”

I felt the colour drain from my face as the sting of Leon’s text message resurfaced.

She cringed. “Not good, I take it.”

“Correct.”

“But he sounded so promising…”

“Long story short, it turned out he was a jerk.”

“Okay, spill. I want all the juicy details.”

We moved to the break room to continue our conversation over morning tea. Brooke set down two mugs of hot tea on a table opposite the window. I pulled out a chair.

“So, what happened?” Brooke asked.

I recounted the story of the date with Leon up to the text message he accidentally sent me this morning, and the realisation he was seeing someone else.

Brooke grimaced. “Yikes. What a douche.”

“I shouldn’t have got my hopes up. Think I’m ready to swear off dating apps for good.”

“How old was the guy?”

“Twenty-seven. Same age as me.”

“Maybe that’s your problem. Boys in their twenties are too immature. Why don’t you age up a little?”

“Most guys in their thirties are already taken, and the ones that aren’t… well, they seem to be single for a good reason.”

“Oof. I know what you mean. But there are some decent men out there. You just have to?—”

Something in the background caught my attention and drowned out the rest of what Brooke was saying. My focus shifted to the window behind her.

The world slowed down. All I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears and my beating heart.

Something was falling. No… someone . A body soaring straight down outside the building.

My mug slipped from my grasp and hit the table, splashing the remnants of my tea. I shrieked.