Page 4 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

Fortunately, my phone rings before I can respond. As I answer the call, my mind keeps circling back to Fallon and her icy reaction to seeing me. It stings, realizing I was right all along. She played me the weekend we met and never actually cared about getting to know me.

After taking another work call following dinner, I stumble upon Fallon alone in the kitchen. She’s at the counter, leaning over a tray of crème brûlée, her brows furrowed in concentration as she caramelizes the tops with a small torch.

She hasn’t noticed me yet, so I linger in the doorway, taking her in. She’s wearing a gray long-sleeved T-shirt and black pants with an apron tied around her waist. Her blonde hair is tied back in a messy bun, a few strands falling loosely around her face, and freckles dot the bridge of her nose. There’s a smudge of almond flour on her cheek, and I ball my hands into fists, resisting the urge to wipe it off.

She’s even more beautiful than I remember.

The faint smell of vanilla and caramel fills the air, taking me back to the night we met. It’s been a decade since I last saw her, and I remind myself that what happened between us is in the past, and that’s where it should stay.

Her jaw tightens as she moves the flame over the final set of ramekins.

“Is there something I can help you with, Harrison?” she asks, barely giving me a glance.

“Nope. Just craving something sweet that doesn’t leave a bitter aftertaste for ten years.”

“Still as charming as ever. I guess some things never change,” she mutters.

I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I can’t be all bad. Seeing as we barely left the hotel suite all weekend.”

Fallon slams the torch on the counter, shooting me a fiery glare. “Trust me, it wasn’t all that memorable,” she snaps.

I exhale sharply, anger clawing its way to the surface. “Believe me, the feeling is mutual, Elizabeth. Or should I say,Fallon.” I push off the door and approach her. “Why did you lie about your name when we met?”

“Already jumping to conclusions about my character. Why am I not surprised?” she taunts, taking a step closer, her chin tilted upward to meet my gaze.

Being in the same room as Fallon again might make my blood boil, but there’s no denying she’s got courage for standing her ground. That’s more than most people can say when dealing with me. I’ll give her credit for that.

“If you don’t want me to make assumptions, then explain,” I demand, my patience wearing thin.

“Elizabeth is my first name,” she retorts, wrinkling her nose as if the name tastes bitter in her mouth. “When I enrolled in culinary school, I wanted something that felt more me. Elizabeth was too stiff, so I started going by Fallon, my middle name.” She chews on her bottom lip, and I know she’s not telling me the full story, but I’m not interested enough to press further, so I let it go.

“I see. And what’s your excuse for being here tonight? Am I supposed to believe it’s a coincidence that you’re catering at my parents’ house?”

“How dare you insult my motives.” Her voice grows louder, despite the gap between us growing smaller. “I never would have taken this job if I knew you’d be here. Trust me, you’re the last person I wanted to see tonight. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you,” she grumbles.

The bite of her words ignites another flash of fury, and I resent that she can still provoke a reaction when she means nothing to me. The fiery woman I met ten years ago is justas bold now—if not more. Whereas, I acknowledge that I’m no longer the carefree hockey player that she met. I’m the man who grew an empire through discipline and control with no time for distractions, especially ones that come wrapped in trouble and a sharp tongue.

I place my hand over my heart. “I’m wounded, truly.” I lean in, her breath grazing against my neck. “Just be sure not to skip out early tonight. That would be unprofessional.”

Fallon shakes her head. “You’re the only one here who walks away without considering how it’ll affect someone else,” she says, venom dripping from every word.

I recoil, dropping my hand from my chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re kidding, right?” A fleeting shadow of sadness crosses her face before she masks it. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You’re just another guy who couldn’t see past his ego, and that’s on you. Lucky for me, I dodged a bullet.”

She might as well have slapped me. How dare she put the blame on me when it falls squarely on her shoulders. I thought she was someone capable of earning my trust, but now it’s clear she was stringing me along and is scrambling to save face now that we’ve crossed paths again.

“Consider my offer for employment rescinded.” I take out my phone to send an email to my assistant.

Fallon can’t work for me. Period.

“You can’t take away an offer that I already turned down,” she fires back, pointing at my chest.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter, throwing my hands in the air.

“At least we can agree on one thing,” she says, a touch of amusement in her tone.

“What’s that?”

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