Page 83 of The CEO Enemy

The next morning I’m awake long before my alarm goes off, and I’m feeling marginally better. At least physically. There’s an emotion I can’t quantify once I fully wake up, and it takes me a moment to realize what it is. Emptiness.

For days now (ever since Mr. Grant graced us with his presence), with a few exceptions, I’ve woken up with Jess next to me, whether in her bed or mine. And I guess without realizing, I’ve gotten used to it. Not having her next to me, I feel incomplete. It’s as if a part of me is just MIA.

I pick up my phone and shoot her a quick text. It’s early, she might still be home.

Me:

Quick breakfast?

While I wait for a response, I do my old morning routine which I haven’t done in some time. It feels good to get back on the treadmill and feel the familiar burn in my muscles that a good workout provides. By the time I’m done, however, she hasn’t texted me back. I’m not concerned and figure she hasn’t checked her phone yet or is busy getting ready.

After showering and getting dressed, I knock on her door. There’s no answer, and I don’t hear movement or sound, save for the squawking of her bird. I knock again, a little harder this time.

Nothing.

I shoot her another text, but that’s not answered either. I’m not going to wait around. I’ll see her later once I’m back from Providence, Rhode Island, where I’m meeting up with Connor to inspect a hotel.

When the elevator doors open at the parking garage, I notice her car is gone. Which means she must have left already. She has a lot on her plate, that explains the silence. I’m not concerned, not too much—she’s busy. She normally gets in early.

One thing does feel odd though. I haven’t had to do this before: balancing a work relationship with a personal one.

I told my father that my entanglement with Jess hasn’t been affecting my work, but I have to admit to myself that that’s a full-blown lie. Of course it’s been affecting my work, however, it’s not in the negative way that he makes it out to be.

Jess and I make a good team, and I still don’t see why that would be considered a problem. Sure, logistically I can see why this would be considered an issue. Emotions and business don’t typically go hand in hand. At least not the business I’m used to conducting. In the past, I’ve tried to keep my relationships as far away from work as possible, given the number of hours my job consumes.

Navigating a new relationship and a working partnership at the same time, it’s uncharted territory. I’ve been putting it off, but it’s time Jess and I sit down and talk things out. Figure out where we see this going. Maybe once that’s clear, I’ll have a better idea of how to handle the business side of the equation.

When I land in Providence, Connor is already waiting for me. He arrived a couple of days earlier to coordinate everything between us and the current manager for the new plans I’ve got in mind. This place, recently added to our portfolio, holds potential, and I can’t help but feel inspired by Jess’s vision about revitalizing the guest experience by providing a unique spirit to create something exceptional.

As much as I enjoy handling transitions, it’s nice to slowly return to this side of things. Once I’m back in my office on a regular basis, I intend to dedicate time to focus on all our other properties.

After we finalize the tour and agree on the implementations, Connor and I stop to grab coffee and “johnny cakes” (small, flat cornmeal pancakes with a slightly salty and sweet flavor) as early lunch at this apparently legendary local spot, a well-kept secret I’m considering partnering with to deliver their specialties to our newly acquired spot. I grab some for Jess too, curious to see how she’ll like them.

Back in my private jet, I give Connor a brief rundown of the conversation I had with my father. The longer I talk, the wider Connor’s eyes get. I’ve never seen him clench his jaw this hard.

“What the actual fuck?” he asks, looking up from his pancake—they’re so good, we’re having seconds. “Did he seriously threaten your job over one stupid sale?”

“Yeah, but it’s not about the sale, obviously. He’s been waiting for me to screw up, insisting on maintaining traditional methods. And since I don’t, he has to invent a scenario. For fuck’s sake.”

“And your time ran out, what, last night? What are ya gonna do?”

“Wait until she’s ready,” I tell him.

I don’t say anything else, only look up from my pancake to meet his gaze.

When I do, understanding passes across Connor’s face.

He swallows down his bite. “Oh, so this is serious serious? Feck.” Connor studies me carefully. “D’ya think it’ll be that easy?”

“You said it yourself,” I say. “She’s a keeper. And that’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to keep her.”

Connor doesn’t need to point out I’m repeating myself. Nodding, he puts his empty plate down, crosses his arms, and leans back, his legs planted wide. “That’s a solid fuckin’ move if there ever was one, but—Jesus Christ, lad.”

“What?”

“You can say it, ya know? It’s obvious that you love her.”

He says it so casually that it startles me for a second. Which is probably a dumb thing to be startled by, all things considered. However, despite my internal acknowledgment of my feelings, the word “love” hadn’t entered my mind until that moment. But now that he said it, it’s so obvious that’s what this is about.

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