Page 2 of Clashing with the CEO

Startled, I looked away, heat flaring in my cheeks. The man didn’t exit, and I was the only person waiting to get on. Reaffirming my little bet with myself, I gave him a once-over as I stepped inside. What I saw made me pause.

This man wasn’t my type at all. He looked much older than me, and he wasn’t handsome. A far cry from pretty-boy Leon and his ilk. The man’s black hair was immaculately groomed, and he had shrewd, dark eyes. A defined jawline led to stern lips and down his throat to a prominent Adam’s apple peeking from his crisp shirt collar. He wore a suit which screamed tailor-made and expensive, not to mention the Rolex on his wrist. He exuded an aura of power.

Must be in upper management.

I looked at the keypad. Sure enough, he had selected the twentieth floor. All the top executives had their offices on the twentieth floor—the highest level of the building. He either worked there, or he was a visiting businessman from another company.

As I pressed the button for the fifth floor, I could feel the man’s intense eyes boring holes into me. I wondered if he was checking me out.

Maybe he really is interested in me?

I didn’t know what to make of it. He was too old for me, and he wasn’t my type at all. Then again, he was far from decrepit—early forties at most. He looked fit and well-groomed, and he was probably intelligent and ambitious if he held a high position like I suspected. Maybe it was time to broaden my horizons. Besides, I could use the confidence boost.

Mind made up, I turned on my charm offensive and flashed him the sweetest smile I could muster. “Good morning.”

His jaw tightened, and the veins in his neck flexed. He left me hanging for a long beat, an inscrutable expression on his face.

The corners of my mouth twitched, unable to hold up the smile much longer as awkwardness set in. Our eye contact was on the verge of unbearable when he finally spoke. “You’re…” His voice was low, and he had a hint of a posh English accent.

What’s this? All I had expected was a simple “Good morning” in return.

Is he actually going to hit on me? I can’t believe it.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Your top’s inside out.”

Huh?

“My…” I looked down and examined my blouse while feeling behind my neck for the tag. Sure enough, the seams were showing, and the tag was on the outside. A fresh surge of heat burst onto my face. “Oh!” I spluttered. “Thanks for telling me.”

He didn’t say another word.

I hurried out as soon as the door opened onto the fifth floor, nearly tripping over my feet on the way. I didn’t know what was more embarrassing, an upper-management staff member seeing me with my top on inside out, or several strangers having witnessed the same thing during my commute.

What’s wrong with me today?

I headed straight to the bathroom before anyone else could glimpse my wardrobe malfunction. In the safety of a vacant stall, I shrugged off my overstuffed bag and hooked it on the back of the door. My blouse came off next. I checked it was the right way around, then slipped it back over my sweaty head.

Properly dressed, I emerged from the stall and double-checked my appearance in the mirrors above the row of immaculate white basins. My forehead was shiny, and my cheeks were pink, but apart from that, everything was in order. I smoothed a hand through my hair.

Okay, so it’s been a shitty morning. That doesn’t mean that the rest of the day has to follow suit. Forget about Leon. Forget about that man in the lift. I’ve got more important things to think about.

I left the bathroom with my head held high, vowing not to let anything else rattle my self-composure.

An arctic blast from the air conditioner made me hunch my shoulders as I entered the communications department. I walked along the uniform row of wooden desks to my designated workstation and placed my phone, diary, and pen case into position. I had the tidiest desk on the entire floor, earning me the title of Resident Neat Freak among the staff. My neatness extended to the digital realm too, leading to my second nickname: File Management Nazi.

Brooke arrived shortly. She was wearing a green dress today, and her long dark was loose and straight. “Hey, Milly,” she said, taking her seat at the desk next to mine.

“Hi, Brooke.”

She leaned in close. “Sooo… How did your date go?”

I felt the colour drain from my face as the sting of Leon’s text message resurfaced.

She cringed. “Not good, I take it.”

“Correct.”

“But he sounded so promising…”

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