Page 55 of Enchanting the CEO

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Gabe: Diane?

Diane: Permission not granted.

He called me, and I answered right away.

"What permission?" he asked. His voice was low, almost a growl.

"I was teasing you. I don't like my workout clothes, and I'm a bit sweaty, so I don't want to take a picture of myself."

"Diane."

"That’s a final answer." Well, not really. If he kept insisting, I might give in. But I wasn't going to share that bit of information. “Ummm... I’m actually in your living room.” It didn’t feel right to keep that info from him. “I hope that’s okay. Doing a workout in my attic—”

“Diane, you can use the house as you like. Feel free to work in the living room, work out, whatever, okay?”

“Thanks. Are you still stressed?" I asked him.

"Yeah."

"You were so tense this morning."

"Trust me, I'm even more so now."

I was about to say that I'd love to be around and help him out, but where would that lead us? We hadn't talked about... well... us.

"That massage you started this morning was great. If only I had you here to do it."

I felt like my heart was about to leap out of my chest. "You'd want me there with you?"

"Fuck yes."

I swallowed hard. "You can call me anytime. I do have some de-stressing skills over the phone too," I added quickly. "Though they're nothing compared to my in-person skills."

"I might take you up on it."

"Yes, please do," I whispered. It felt like we were walking on eggshells around each other. Actually no, a better description was that we were simply in uncharted territory.

"Then I’ll call you tonight. Now I'd better take care of this shit show.”

"Sure," I said.

I was inexplicably excited after I finished talking to him. I put the phone down and then turned around, intending to head upstairs, before remembering that I was actually working out. Holy shit, he'd made me forget my head completely.

I dutifully did my routine for the next forty-five minutes, keeping an eye on my phone, but he didn't call again. Then my phone beeped, and I rushed to get it.

I groaned. I had a message from my ex.

Chuck: You've got my old laptop. It’s not in my storage room. I'm going to need it back.

Oh for fuck's sake, really?

He could go to hell for all I cared. If he wanted a laptop, he could buy himself one. I didn't want to see him ever again.

My body didn’t tighten up quite the way it had the last time he’d contacted me. Still, it didn’t mean I wanted to see the idiot, even though it was his laptop. And yeah, it was at the bottom of one of the boxes I hadn't bothered to open. But considering I'd financially supported him through post-grad, he could go shove it.

The morning tutoring sessions went by quickly. As lunchtime approached, my stomach began to rumble, so I made myself a quick stir-fry.

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