Page 46 of The CEO Enemy
He has the nerve to roll his eyes. “That’s it? I thought it was something serious.”
My temper flares. “It is serious to me! Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing.”
“If I’m brushing it off it’s because it is nothing. I’m too busy to deal with staff drama. Staff is replaceable. If this person is going to come running to you every time she hears stupid rumors, then maybe we should think about that person’s future here.”
“Staff is replaceable? Isn’t that what Blackwood is renowned for? Taking over and letting go of staff?”
His facial expression darkens considerably. The shadows carve deep lines of menace across his features, a brooding intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. He shakes his head, growling, “Not under my leadership.”
I try to steady my heartbeat. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Not unless absolutely necessary. You have the wrong impression of me. Not everything you hear or read in the press is true,” he assures me, his gaze still dark. “I value our team.”
There’s something in his sincere tone that immediately puts me at ease. For some reason, I find myself believing him, trusting his words.
He’s not that good an actor.
“Can I get that in writing?” I tease (but not really).
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asks, ignoring my question, and instead, jerking his chin toward the charity auction ticket still proudly displayed on my desk.
Happiness surges within me when I pick it up.
“I am. I’ve picked a stunning cocktail dress and shoes. I have an appointment at the hair salon tomorrow afternoon. Do we still plan to arrive fashionably late and make a quick exit?”
“That’s the plan. We’ll show face, scope out the drawing, and make our exit with it.” He nods. “In and out.”
I smirk, liking the notion. “A heist at a charity event. I’m in.” I relax in my seat, confident in our plan to navigate the event and sidestep unnecessary encounters with Richard. “What time are we leaving? It’s starting at 6:00 p.m.”
“Events like this never start punctually. I’ll pick you up. Be ready at six sharp.”
“Perfect! We’ll arrive just in time for the auction.”
“Timing is everything in this game.”
“Anything else we should discuss?” I ask, putting the ticket in my purse. There will be enough time to cover any last-minute details on the ride over, to align our answers just in case we get busted, but when it comes to fooling Richard, there’s nothing like overpreparing.
“What about what’s happening between us?”
My head shoots up and I almost drop my purse. He’s talking about the kiss. The real fake kiss. It catches me off guard that he’s mentioning it. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“You know what I mean.”
“Nothing is happening,” I insist.
“Are you really going to look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t feel anything, that it was just for show?”
“When?” I ask.
“You know when,” he huffs. “In the Presidential Suite.”
“Maybe you’re the one feeling something.”
“Smooth deflection.”
I know I shouldn’t have kissed him—be it a pretend kiss or a genuine one. I’ve never encountered a man who stirs such a whirlwind of mixed emotions within me.
I don’t know whether I want to tell him this meeting is done or get up and yank on his suit jacket and pull him against me. At least it would shut him up for a moment.