Page 37 of The CEO Enemy

“I believe this approach will provide a fair opportunity,” I continue, “for both of us to make an informed decision about our future partnership. You may have your company’s best interests at heart, but I have my staff’s. And that’s always going to come first over corporate necessity.”

“You make it sound like we’re some random faceless organization trying to bend everything to our will.”

“Aren’t you?” I mean it as a joke, something to break the tension. (By that, I mean the tension in me. He looks calm as a cucumber.)

“Allow me to clarify: I am also genuinely concerned about the well-being and best interests of the staff,” he assures me.

“I mean it, Sean. You can’t meddle in my role as a director.”

He nods. “I won’t interfere in your responsibilities. We’ll work together to put Blackwood’s strategies into action, and it will be your duty to implement them.”

“Naturally, our relationship will remain strictly professional,” I continue to recap, keeping it professional. “We work on a smooth transition, and in two weeks, we attend the charity event together.”

“I act as your fake fiancé in front of Richard.”

“Yes,” I say. “After the month is over, we’re free to date again.”

Sean nods. “If he asks, I’ll tell him you broke it off because you met someone else.”

“Good idea,” I admit. “If we’re compatible as business partners, I’ll sell my shares.”

“I’m sure we’re compatible.”

I blink, ignoring the way he said it.

“Your reassurance is noted,” I tell him. “However, let me be honest. The likelihood of me selling my shares by the end of the month is miniscule at best. Don’t assume it’s in the bag, because it is not.”

“All I want is a fair shot.”

“A fair shot it is, no more, no less. Let’s see where it takes us. We’ll need everything in writing to make it official of course,” I insist with a winner’s smile.

“Sure thing,” he says. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll have our legal team draft the necessary agreements to formalize this process. Besides, I’ve worked in hospitality my whole life. I’ve been where you are, and I think you’ll find I’m very reasonable.”

“You’ve proven that by offering a compromise and agreeing to mine. Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

“I’m not one for regrets.”

Something in the way he says that gives me pause. I see him standing there relaxed and at ease, so very different from how he is while we’re working. That damn night at the bar tugs at the back of my memories, and for the briefest moment, I feel that heat simmer below the surface. My eyes stray to his lips. His beautiful, full, masculine lips. The ones I felt on mine for one too-short second. It would be so easy to lean in, to feel the press of that mouth to mine and really indulge. My thighs clench harder.

Is he a good kisser, I wonder?

Clearly, he’s not.

That’s probably why he refrained from kissing me at the bar. It’s likely he’s out of practice, and, if I had to guess, not particularly skilled either.

“Other than that,” I say, “we will be strictly professional, no funny business.”

“We already agreed on that. Wouldn’t even cross my mind.”

What a jerk.

“I was just making sure. I’ll see you in the morning then,” I say before my eyes have a chance to land on his lips again, backing away in the direction of my apartment. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

He closes the door, and I step into my place, leaning against the wall as I will my thumping heart to slow down. In his cage, Pippin cocks his head and squawks at me, almost as if to suggest, “Dun-dun-dun-dun! Kiss him!”

“Not now, not tomorrow, not ever, you little matchmaker!”

---