Page 32 of The CEO Enemy
I wish I could be a fly on the wall. Perhaps I should confidently walk in, hand her the coffee, and loiter around, maybe even pretend to need her printer for something? It would be completely unbelievable, considering my commitment to not wasting paper, but who would even notice? Answer: she would notice. If anybody would notice, it’d be her. I’ve given her a hard enough time about going paperless as it is.
I need a better idea.
My office phone rings. It’s an internal call coming from her office.
I pick up. “Yeah?”
“Babe,” I hear Jess say brightly, even cheerfully, “will you please come into my office for a second?”
My heart hammers. “Babe”? Is that what she said?
“Sure. Gladly,” I say without hesitation. I don’t even attempt to conceal the upswing in my mood.
Deciding to not bring the coffees along—it wouldn’t be appropriate to offer her a coffee while not being able to accommodate her guest—I walk to her door and enter after my first knock. Jess is already strolling toward me, meeting me halfway.
“Hi, babe,” she says joyfully, giving me a gorgeous smile, “there you are!”
Her pleading eyes are locked on mine, her expression begging me to play along.
Before I can answer, she leans in to give me a kiss on my lips. At least, that’s what I think she intends to do. I realize too late that she was actually aiming for my cheek. She almost squeaks in surprise when I—accidentally (for the most part)—turn my head and our lips touch. Of course, I let my mouth linger for a moment. You know, playing along.
It feels good to press my lips to hers. It feels natural, as it should.
When she pulls back, I detect a micro-embarrassment-slash-amusement at the kiss mix-up, but she confidently brushes it off, saying, “Honey, let me introduce you to Mr. Rutherford.” She faces the tall man seated in front of her desk, who’s looking straight at us. “Richard, this is Sean Blackwood, my fiancé.”
I blink.
I’m her fiancé?
I’m not just “Babe” but “officially engaged”?
Okay, why not.
She’s fighting fire with fire. I can work with that.
Turning toward him, I’m trying to make sense of it all. Most likely, there’s some unfinished business between the two of them, and I’ll gladly portray her fake husband-to-be, shielding her from my main competitor.
This is clearly to my advantage.
Richard Rutherford, the biggest hotel mogul in the nation with wealth that engulfs his “I get what I want” approach, appears surprised at the announcement. His jaw clenches, but only for a moment, before he sets up his poker face. She called him “Richard,” addressed him informally, and I get a sense they’ve known each other for years. For whatever reason he’s here, private or business, I’m not entirely sure. What I do know is he didn’t expect to see me here—engaged to this stunning woman.
He gets up and faces me. He’s definitely aged since the last time I saw him, at the Grand Hotelier Convention in London a year back, and throughout the years at one of the city’s high-profile fundraising galas, including, of course, the Grand Hospitality Affair. His salt-and-pepper hair adds an air of sophistication, and he stands two inches taller than me, dressed in a dark blue Brioni suit with a top-tier timepiece gracing his wrist.
“We’ve met,” I inform her as we shake hands.
“Small world,” Richard says in his deep baritone. “How do you do, Mr. Blackwood?” He smirks, just as he did when we competed in a bidding war, both of us eager to acquire a prominent hotel chain in Europe. I wasn’t a sore loser, even though my father never fails to rub it in.
“Good,” I reply, keeping it friendly. “How are you?”
“Honey, are you ready?” Jess interrupts, effectively putting a stop to any potential conversation. “I don’t want to be late. The jeweler is waiting.” She beams at me.
“Ready, baby,” I say, and a chuckle escapes. I don’t even have to pretend. It feels nice and natural to call her “Baby.” Also, the whole situation is hilarious. The jeweler is waiting?
Richard grabs his jacket, understanding the message, and heads toward the door. When he reaches for the knob, he pivots to face her. “Think about my offer, Jessie.”
Jessie? They definitely have a private history.
Do I really want to know what else they shared?