Flirting With The CEO (Suits #1)
Chapter 1
Chapter One
AUDRA
By the time I reach the CEO wing, I already regret my shoes.
Not because they hurt—these heels could survive a war—but because they click too loudly on the polished marble. Click. Click. Click.
There’s no such thing as anonymity on this floor. Every sound carries. Every movement announces itself. The entire place is designed to remind you where you are and who matters most.
The CEO’s assistant looks up the moment she hears me coming, and her entire expression tightens like she’s bracing for impact.
Yep. That’s my cue.
Jamie knows this isn’t going to be pretty. It never is when I’m headed to see Derek Pierce, CEO of DP Enterprises. Yes. DP Enter-Prizes. I internally wince at the juvenile innuendo, even after months of working here.
Good thing for me, so does Mr. Pierce.
He came up with the name years ago—young, newly rich, and determined to prove something to the world. According to him, it was about power. Control. Watching people say it with a straight face while his father scowled in disapproval.
Personally, I think the only thing he proved is that money doesn’t cure stupidity.
“Mr. Pierce,” Jamie says into the phone, already sounding apologetic, “Ms. Sullivan from HR is here to see you.”
I stop just short of her desk, arms loosely crossed, waiting. This part is familiar. The pause. The tension. The calculation.
“H—hell,” Derek mutters, loud enough that I hear it through the receiver. “I just saw her.” Pause. “Two hours ago. What could I have possibly done in those two hours?”
Jamie flicks her eyes to me. I lean in toward the speaker: "This is something that was just brought to my attention and can't wait."
I give Jamie a slow, knowing smile.
She winks back.
“Send her in,” he finally says.
Jamie hangs up and leans toward me. “What’d he do?”
“What didn’t he do is the better question.”
Her lips twitch. "Ain't that the truth. This week alone I’ve had four women calling nonstop. Each one of them… intense.”
“Maybe their encounters with Mr. CEO were less than satisfying,” I offer sweetly.
Jamie snorts. “Funny scenario. Doubtful reality.”
I shrug just as a deep, gravelly voice cuts in behind me.
“If you’re done filling my assistant full of lies and disparaging comments about her boss—and your boss, I might add—you might want to step into my office and tell me what this little visit is about.”
Jamie’s cheeks go pink.
Mine don’t.
They used to. Six months ago, they did. Back when his presence made my pulse stutter and my footing less sure. Now? I’ve learned how to stand my ground. Learned that intimidation only works if you let it.
“Sir,” I reply dryly as I turn.
Derek Pierce looks like trouble wrapped in a tailored suit. Piercing blue eyes. Dark lashes. A face that belongs on magazine covers and warning labels. Even with faint frown lines creasing his forehead, he’s unfairly attractive.
That’s the problem.
It would be so much easier to dislike him if I didn’t find him so damn fuckable.
“Sir?” he echoes, one brow lifting.
I shrug and follow him into his office.
His jacket is already gone, sleeves rolled the way he always does when he’s done pretending to be untouchable. Tattooed forearms exposed. Ink disappearing beneath crisp white fabric.
Get it together, Sullivan.
He circles behind his desk and sits. The movement is casual. Controlled. Like everything else about him.
“What do you want this time, Ms. Sullivan?” he asks.
“I’m sensing annoyance in your tone,” I reply. “Sir.”
“There’s only one place I want you to call me that,” he says with a smirk, “and if I tell you where, you’ll sue me for sexual harassment .”
I give him a flat look. “I’m sure I can guess.”
I set the folder on his desk. “I’m here about Mrs. Fielding’s retirement.”
“Who?”
I exhale slowly. “Mrs. Fielding. The woman who trained half this company. The one who corrected my first HR memo with a red pen and a smile.”
“Shit.”
“Mmhmm.”
I open the folder, hand him a pen, and tap the first page. “Sign here.”
He does.
“And here.”
Another signature.
“And here.”
He flips the page and signs again, faster this time.
“That’s it?” he asks.
“That’s it. Less than a minute of your time you couldn’t make for the woman who’s been here since the day you opened.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Yes,” I say evenly. “So your assistant said.”
He leans back in his chair, studying me. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?”
So many things.
About respect. About responsibility. About how people aren’t disposable just because success came easily to him.
But I like my job.
“So many things,” I admit. “But I’ll keep them to myself.”
He chuckles, low and warm, and I hate that it affects me.
“I ordered the cake and decorations for her party next week,” I continue. “Please make a note in Sharpie on your forehead so you don’t forget.”
“My forehead?”
“Mmhmm. You strike me as someone who enjoys looking at himself, so there’d be no excuse.”
His nostrils flare, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
“Is that all you needed, Ms. Sullivan?” he asks shortly.
“From you? Yes. Thank you.”
I turn to leave, then pause.
Slowly, deliberately, I glance back.
He’s staring at my ass.
Good.
I’m suddenly very grateful for my pencil skirt.
“Have a good afternoon… Sir,” I say softly.
Something flashes in his eyes—surprise, heat, something dangerously close to hunger.
I don’t wait for a response. I turn the corner and only then let my smile break free.
Jamie looks up, fans herself, and mouths, Wow.
Sullivan: 1.
Pierce: 0.
And somehow, it still doesn’t feel like a win.