Page 74 of The CEO Enemy
She shrugs. “Duh-uh.”
“And you think he put his job on the line for me?”
Pauline gives me a pointed look. “From what you told me, he was told to buy your properties and decided to compromise and work with instead of against you. Now that you two are sleeping together, if he were using it as leverage to manipulate your decisions, you’d have caught on by now. You really don’t see how that clearly means he genuinely cares about you?”
Now that she puts the thought out there, it’s all I can think about.
It didn’t occur to me that by sleeping with me Sean was putting himself at risk.
After all, I was putting myself at risk doing the same.
I’m sure his dad and the board wouldn’t be too pleased to learn he’s been sleeping with a client-slash-coworker-slash-employee. Yet, he did it and continues to do so on a regular basis.
“Well,” I admit, “this is way more serious than I originally thought.”
“Ah, the joys of love. Just wait—sooner or later, the truth pops out.” She rises from her seat, a knowing expression on her face. “Trust me, he’s head over heels for you. It’s glaringly obvious.”
Deep down, part of me hopes he is.
If we hadn’t been sleeping together in the dazzling manner we are, I would be able to convince myself all our dinner dates were casual meals between neighbors or friends.
But we’re way past casual.
It’s in all the things he does.
It’s in the sense of security and warmth I feel that I haven’t known in a long time.
It’s in the subtle (but real powerful) connection that has grown between us.
I mean, from the fake engagement rescue to entrusting him with decisions for the team, and ultimately leaning on him to support me in business matters, Sean has proven himself to be a reliable partner, and for that, I’m beyond grateful.
When Pauline leaves, I have to bring my focus back to work.
We’re busier than ever. There are several conventions throughout the city, and nearly every hotel in the surrounding area is booked solid. Including ours. But everything is running smoothly, and it requires very little extra work on the managerial side of things.
In fact, when it nears 6:30 p.m. and all of our major tasks are accomplished for the day, Sean and I don’t have to stay any later. It’s a rare opportunity that we’re both seizing, especially with dinner plans already in place. We have been going to dinner on the regular. This time, we find ourselves at a beautiful new Japanese restaurant I picked, having a laid-back evening.
Sometimes, I feel that his mother’s memory burdens him. The relationship with his father seems like another weight on his shoulders. Even though he doesn’t make it obvious, I get a sense that he relaxes when he’s at WH (and not just because of me). Tonight, I gather my strength to ask him about his late mom. He opens up, sharing details about the sad circumstances—why she passed so soon, how much she worked until the end, how much he wished she had spent time planting yellow tulips (her favorite) instead of answering damn phones as his dad’s executive assistant, and how much he regrets his inability to persuade his father to take drastic steps to stop her from overworking.
“As if a thirteen-year-old has the power!” I blurt out, feeling agitated.
“I know,” he says darkly, but I can tell that this time, even though Sean is one of the best listeners, my words barely register with him. I meet his black gaze. It feels like his soul is gone.
When I reassure him, pointing out that he simply couldn’t have borne such responsibility at that age, and that every single person on this planet would agree, he says nothing and hugs me close. In that moment, everything in me melts.
Over the rest of the delicious meal, we talk about God and the world. Culinary adventures, pets, futuristic technology, space exploration. Our discussions fade to places we’ve never traveled to but dream of seeing. For me, it’s Tokyo; for him, it’s Prague.
When the waitress serves us my favorite dessert—Dorayaki, fluffy pancakes filled with sweet red bean paste—Sean mentions he’ll be on a few (boringly local) business trips tomorrow and over the next week, and I can already feel a tinge of longing. Teasingly, I remind him not to let my bed get too cold, and he responds with his signature “cutest lashes in the whole wide world” wink.
We’re a couple. That’s what we are.
Not officially, no, but that’s what it feels like. I can feel it in my heart. It can’t get any more real than this.
“I propose that we scarf down dessert and make a swift exit,” I suggest playfully (but dead serious). Truth is, I’m insatiable for Sean Blackwood, it seems, seriously yearning for all the one-on-one time with him I can get.
I don’t want this to end.
Without even blinking, Sean faces the waitress. “Can we have that to go?”