Page 93 of The CEO Enemy

I remember our conversation and how he said he isn’t a fan of heights.

Before I can protest and tell him that I can do it, he’s already stepping up, clutching the pillar for support. Now my fear is doubled, for Pippin and for Sean being so precarious. He tests his footing, and when he thinks he’s got it, he starts to reach up toward the bird.

Pippin is spooked and instinctually starts to flap.

Oh no, oh no.

Sean’s body wobbles, and my heart stops as it looks like he’s about to fall. And then, it happens—he starts to slip!

My pulse pounds in my ears, anxiety gripping me.

Sean!

No!

At the last second, he manages to catch himself and wraps his hand around Pippin’s tiny body, grabbing him before he can try and flutter away. I don’t think I breathe properly until he secures his hold and extends his hand toward me.

He cradles Pippin. Relief washes over me as I take him into my hands.

“Thank you, Sean. You’re a lifesaver,” I say, grateful beyond belief. He grins, and everything is perfect. I rush inside and put Pippin in his cage.

Just as I secure the cage door, I see it happening from the corner of my eye.

Sean loses his footing.

“No!” I scream, but it’s too late. Time slows to a crawl as I watch how he plummets, and my heart leaps into my throat. Without thinking, I rush onto the balcony, and my hands grip the cold metal.

My body breaks out in alarm.

I peer over the railing, my eyes fixated downward, a surge of horror coursing through me. “Sean!”

My focus is singular: him, falling.

My heart is hammering in my chest so fast and loud I can’t think.

All emotion clutches in my throat.

No.

No.

Noooooo!

As I reel from the shock, a vivid vision overtakes me. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as I burst into the emergency room. The sight of Sean lying there, pale and still, sends chilly panic through me. He’s in a bad condition. Critical. Guilt and fear twist in my stomach. This should have never happened. Why oh why didn’t I ensure Pippin’s door was securely closed? A loud beep resonates through the room. The monitor is flatlining.

My heart stops. Please, dear God, please.

Tears blur my sight and I want to stumble back, but instead I blink, and the vision fades. Reality crashes back in.

Leaning farther over, I find Sean grasping onto the metal fixture at the balcony’s edge. “Sean!” My hand reaches out, grasping for his, but as hard as I try, I can’t pull him to safety.

He’s hanging there, swaying.

Oh, Sean! In a sudden movement, he propels himself to the side, his feet fumbling for a surface that doesn’t exist. Desperately, I clutch onto his hands for dear life. Somehow, he finds footing on the unseen brick formation below. With a determined resolve, he steadies himself, readjusts his stance, and then skillfully maneuvers himself back up and over the railing.

ThankyouGodthankyouGodthankyouGod.

And holy fuck.

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