Mr. CEO(36)

I haven’t gotten one productive thing done since I walked in on that phone call.

I breathe heavily and turn away from the window. I feel like a caged animal in this office. I need to find a release.

I look back at my computer screen and feel a small pang of guilt.

It’s a record of her phone calls and texts. It wasn’t quite legal to do, but it was easy. And I needed to know.

My father used to do this shit to my mother. I don’t want to be like him. I hate falling into his old habits.

When he looked at her messages though, he found plenty. All I’m seeing is evidence that they’re over.

It doesn’t make me any less angry. I don’t like her getting worked up over him. I want all of her passion. Every last bit. That f*cker doesn’t deserve an ounce of it. If she wants someone to yell at, I’d rather it be me.

I’ve been obsessing over that thought since I’ve realized it’s true. I shouldn’t want it.

It’s well past five and this floor of the building is silent. Everyone’s gone home, so I’m certain Charlotte has already left. I may drop by her office.

I crack my neck and ignore the pings from my computer and the direct messages on my screen. I have a heavy duty punching bag in my basement. It's for moments just like this.

I’ve never thought of myself as a selfish man. Cold at times and distant, sure. I have flaws. Not selfish though.

But I am when it comes to her.

As if my thoughts brought her to me, a timid knock sounds at the door and then it slowly opens to reveal my Rose. I stand behind my desk and wait for her to enter. The air is thick with tension as she slowly shuts the door and finally looks up at me with those sweet blue eyes.

“Hey,” she says and her voice is soft and she’s twisting the bit of hair hanging along her shoulders from her ponytail around her finger. I’ve never seen her look so insecure in my life. Her eyes dart around the room as she stands in the doorway.

“I-” she clears her throat and then looks me in the eye. “I just wanted to clear up what that conversation was about down there.”

My body’s tense and I feel on edge. I’m not giving her anything. I want to hear what she has to say. “Go on,” I say simply as I walk to the door and lock it.

“I… Ian and I,” she starts and takes an unsteady seat on the leather sofa in my office. It makes a soft sound as she settles into it. She clears her throat and sets her purse on the floor.

She looks uneasy. It makes me feel off balance. I like knowing how things are going to play out. I set the terms, I decide how it ends. This little prick is making me have doubts. Ian is going to pay for that.

“Your ex?” I ask, as if I don’t know who she’s talking about. I now know everything about that f*ckface. I resist the urge to take out my anger on her and instead I slip my jacket off and lay it neatly on the desk.

“Yes. Ex.” She emphasizes the word and it’s the first time since she’s been in here that she’s had any confidence in her voice. Good. The anger turns to a low simmer and I turn away to unbutton the cuffs of my shirt.

“I am completely over him.” She throws her hands to the side and continues to talk with her eyes focused on the desk. “I swear, there’s nothing there whatsoever.” She pauses and a flash of sadness crosses her eyes. “He just… won’t leave.” There’s a hint of desperation in her voice and her eyes gloss over with unshed tears. She fights them back and continues, “Him and my friend--ex-friend, they were there this morning and-”

I turn and face her and press, “Won’t leave?”

“Yes,” she says with conviction. “It’s my apartment. It may be shitty, but it’s mine. I had it before he moved in, and now he’s refusing to leave.”

I walk quickly back around my desk and hit the spacebar to bring the computer back to life. Ian Rutherford‘s information is still there.

Charlotte goes quiet. And after a moment she reaches for her purse. Her voice is tight as she says, “Anyway, I just wanted to clear that up.” She sounds defeated as she stands.

“What are you doing?” I ask her.

“I’m gonna head out,” she says listlessly.

“The f*ck you are. You’re going to go back to him?”

For a moment she’s shocked, but then the anger sets in. She takes harsh steps toward me with her heels clicking loudly on the floor.

She points her finger at me and parts those gorgeous lips of hers to snap at me, but I’m quicker.

“How badly do you want to f*ck him over?” I ask in a low voice.

Her hand slowly lowers and the hard lines in her face soften. She waits a moment to answer, “I just want him gone.”

Yes. That’s what I want to hear. No anger. Nothing for him, not even anything negative. Empathy is far worse than anger.

“You can simply end the lease.”

“I-” she stops herself and goes back to being uncertain. “I need to wait on the housing.”

I pick up the phone and call Trent. It’s a little after five now, but he should still be here. The phone rings and rings. Finally, he answers.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you after our meeting today,” he answers.

I huff into the phone. The meeting didn’t go so well. It’s rare that we disagree, but that’s exactly what happened.