Page 5 of Followed By the CEO

“I’ve already scheduled an appointment with my mechanic for next week.”

“Good,” he says. “My new bank card is on the way.”

“Awesome. We’re both safe now,” I say, watching him expectantly, waiting for him to drive away but secretly hoping he doesn’t.

An awkward silence, both of us waiting for what happens next. Hell if I know what that is. I’m in uncharted territory.

I break the silence first. “Well, Monster here needs to go inside and get a nap. And so do I,” I say, petting my dog’s head, provoking a little piggy noise from the animal.

The Range Rover driver lifts his eyebrows, and for the first time, I can see how absolutely exhausted he is. “A nap sounds amazing.”

“You should go get one, then.”

That masculine hand I’ve been mentally measuring goes to his hair, combing through his gentle waves. “I’m pretty hungry, though; I might go get some food.”

What is wrong with this man? “What are you waiting for? Tired, hungry, three hundred dollars poorer, and a shitty bank card. You really ought to go now and practice your self-care.”

He laughs and then hits me with what he really wants. “Do you want to get some food with me?”

Unbelievable.

And yet I’m actually considering it.

But no. It won’t work for me.

“I’ve got an early audition tomorrow, but thanks.”

He beams. “For a movie?”

Using the tired Monster to hide my face, I admit, “No, it’s a commercial for lube.” Monster replies to this with a lick to my nose. Pete must have brushed Monster’s teeth because his doggy breath isn’t as bad as usual.

“With the way you’re blushing, I don’t think you mean Jiffy Lube.”

“Yeah…no. More like a local sex toy chain that’s trying to go viral.”

He doesn’t scoff, laugh, or say something gross and expected from a guy who is probably hitting on me. “Sounds sketchy to me. Are you sure you want to waste your talent on Jo-Jo’s House of Dildos?”

Even I can’t bite back the laughter.

“I’ve read the script. It’s tasteful. You’ve heard of that store, Violet Sin.”

“Let’s just say they know me over there.”

I roll my eyes. “Anyway, they hired my friend Susan to direct it, and she guaranteed me the main part. She wants me there tomorrow to read with the guys who are auditioning.” Why am I telling him all this information?

“One more step to stardom,” he says unironically.

I correct him, “I don’t care about stardom. I just want to make enough money to live comfortably. And I’m excited for my friend’s directorial debut, so there’s that.”

He nods, ceding the argument. Finally, a man who listens.

“You sure I can’t buy you dinner?”

“Nope,” I insist, not in the mood for a date. Even if he insists this isn’t a date, that’s exactly what it would feel like to me. I don’t want to be “on” tonight. “I’m going to go upstairs, order Chinese, and then Monster and I are gonna have a VanderPump Rules marathon and pass out on the sofa.”

When I mention my favorite reality show, the face he pulls tells me everything I need to know. He might be hot AF but he thinks I have terrible taste in television. He might claim to know about Violet Sin, but look at him. There’s no way he’s a freak in the bedroom.

“At least you’ll have good company,” he says, gesturing to Monster.

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