Page 38 of The CEO Enemy

Then I remember. Darn it. I forgot to retrieve my panties. Again.

13

SEAN

Well played.

I commend Jess for having the business savvy to make such a request, and I’m happy to sign a contract. My cock twitches in anticipation of the thirty days I’m going to officially be her boss.

The next day, we sit down together, and I present her with a digital legal agreement, describing the deal Blackwood Inc. is willing to offer. She dedicates a full day to meticulous reading, with the document undergoing a thorough review by her legal counsel. Following this, she provides me with several minor revisions and proceeds to sign it once she’s entirely satisfied.

Over the course of the next week, I dedicate most of my time to working directly with Jess on the property, getting familiar with WH policies, staff, and procedures, being on site full time. To her credit, once we review the transition process, Jess is positive and upbeat, sharing her thoughts, lighting up every room she walks into, and at times, providing suggestions. It seems now that she’s on board, she’s ready to hit the ground running.

In the late evenings, I swing by the Blackwood office to attend to my company responsibilities. Often, it’s deserted by the time I arrive. However, today I get there earlier, and several lights are still on. I immerse myself in work for two solid hours, including finally finishing my report for the board and sending it out.

Just as I’m ready to head out, I notice an email from Jess pop up in my inbox. It’s a contract she drafted for Schuster and Flint—the large group interested in hosting their retreat at the Westerlyn hotel. This falls in line with our prior understanding, as I expressed to be involved in substantial business dealings (including overseeing reservations, bookings, or negotiations), to gain insights into their procedures.

I pull it up on my tablet and study it.

My father chooses that moment to walk into my office, holding a paper. Noticing my pensive expression, he takes the tablet out of my hand, scrolling through the contract. “This cannot be how she’s run this business up until this point,” he says, wrinkling his nose. He looks at me, shaking his head. “Ha-ha. No wonder it took them so long to actually turn a profit.”

“I’m sure she did what she had to,” I say, taking the tablet back.

He points to the document. It’s a printout of my report.

“This whole timeline is ridiculous,” he says. “Thirty days! What good does it do us to drag this out until she’s ready?”

I grab my suit jacket and slip it on. “This is a win as far as I’m concerned. Jesus Christ, Father, did you really have to print out the report?”

“A win? How is that?—”

“The sale will happen eventually,” I interject. “I don’t see the harm in letting this play out.”

Dad waves a dismissive hand, leaving my office. “But don’t come crawling back to me, expecting me to step in when it goes wrong.”

Connor and I meet up at our bar. We have some buffalo wings and lose ourselves in the football game.

It feels good to kick back and turn my brain off for a bit. And yet, Jess creeps back in. I chalk it up to not being in the right headspace. Connor erupts in laughter when I fill him in on the whole Jess-being-the-beautiful-bar-girl revelation followed by the whole Jess-being-my-fake-fiancée-to-fool-Rutherford unfolding.

“Can’t fecking wait to properly meet this new woman at the auction,” he playfully remarks.

“You better behave.” I signal the waiter for another round of fries, making sure they’re extra crispy.

“Oh, I’ll be on me best behavior. I promise!” he declares. “Like a good little altar boy at mass—halo included.”

By the time I get home, I’m relaxed. Perhaps too relaxed, because before I go inside, I pause to look at Jess’s door. Almost instinctively, I reach into my jacket pocket, the very same one I wore during our bathroom encounter. I retrieve her panties and press them to my nose. My dick jolts awake. For fuck’s sake, I’m turning into a first-grade creeper. Thankfully, the rational part of my brain kicks in, and I let myself into my apartment before further complicating an already-complicated matter.

Before I call it a night, I fetch an envelope. I tuck her panties inside and place it next to her door—a subtle memento of our night.

That’s all it is, just a memento. It can’t happen again.

My body doesn’t get the message.

I strip down and fall into bed.

Even if hooking up again was on the table, she’s probably asleep. With that thought, I wonder what she sleeps in. Short-shorts and a tank top? A thin nightie? Nothing? I doubt it’s nothing.

My dick, being the persistent bastard that he is, twitches and swells.

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