Page 34 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

“Nope.”

Dawson used to be one moody son-of-a-bitch, but since he started dating his girlfriend, Reese, he’s become far too chipper for my taste. I prefer brooding in silence and can’t decide how I feel about his newfound cheerfulness. He nods at the bartender, who passes him two fingers of brandy. I’m about to ask for another drink, too, when my phone rings, and I groan when I see that it’s Fallon.

What could she possibly want?

She’s probably mad that I skipped dinner and didn’t tell her.

“Yes, Fallon?”

“Did you throw away the fish in the fridge?” she asks, her voice panicked.

“I might have,” I hedge.

“You’re unbelievable. That bluefin tuna was a housewarming gift from Theo, imported from Japan, and cost a hundred grand.” I bite back a sigh, holding the phone at arm’s length to avoid her raised voice. “If you want me to respect your request to stay out of your space, then stay out of mine.”

“How was I supposed to know it was so damn expensive?” I ask defensively. “It smelled bad, so I tossed it out.”

“You could have asked me before making an executive decision to throw it away,” Fallon groans.

She has a point, but I’m not willing to admit I was wrong.

“Are you coming back to your apartment soon?” she asks. “Your food has gone cold, so I need to know if you want me to warm it up again.”

“No, I’m out with a friend and won’t be back until late.” There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone. “Are you still there?”

I toss the phone on the counter when the line goes dead.

“I can’t believe she hung up on me,” I mutter as I toss back the rest of my drink. “Fallon’s upset because I threw out a bluefin tuna that supposedly was worth a hundred grand.” I roll my eyes. “How the hell was I supposed to know something that smells so bad could cost as much as a sports car?”

Dawson glances at his watch. “Why is she at your place at ten at night? More importantly, why is she keeping her fish in your fridge? I thought you didn’t like her.”

I grit my teeth. “Because my mom can’t help herself from meddling in my business and suggested Fallon be my live-in chef,” I grunt, refusing to offer more details.

Dawson claps me on the back, chuckling. “Good luck, man; sounds like you’ll need it.”

I’m definitely going to need it now more than ever.

When I open the door to my apartment, it’s dark inside, and I’m not expecting to hear the sound of guttural chanting followed by a terrified scream echoing down the hall.

What the fuck.

I flip on the light and check the entryway closet, grabbing the first thing that could be used as a weapon—my hockey stick.

My steps quicken toward the living room, my confusion mounting when the screaming intensifies into a demonic growl. Turning the corner, I find Fallon curled up with a bowl of popcorn in her lap, and a blanket pulled up to her chin. Her eyes are glued to the TV where a possessed girl thrashes violently on the bed. The girl’s head snapping back at an unnatural angle as the priest chants while clutching his crucifix tightly as the girl snarls, her voice a horrifying mix of growls and screeches.

“Jesus, Fallon, what the hell are you watching?”

She shrieks, nearly leaping off the couch, and the popcorn bowl flips from her lap, sending kernels scattering everywhere as her wide eyes lock on me.

“Oh my god,” she exclaims, clutching her heart. “You scared me.”

I raise an eyebrow, pointing at myself. “I scaredyou? How do you think I felt walking into my house, thinking someone was being murdered?”

She waves at the screen with a light chuckle. “They are. Spiritually speaking.”

I set the hockey stick against the wall and bend down to pick up a few pieces of popcorn near my feet. “Do you think watchingThe Exorcistin the dark by yourself is a good idea?”

Fallon holds out the bowl for me to put the discarded popcorn in.

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