Page 4 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
I flush brightly but remind myself that I’ve already been proven wrong about thinking he was flirting earlier. There’s no reason to repeat the same mistake.
“You too,” I say, nodding and beginning to step away.
Before I make it more than a step, he stops me with a brush of fingers against my elbow.
“What do you say we grab coffee sometime? I’d love to continue our earlier conversation.”
Considering our earlier conversation was about a fat heap of nothing, I assume that he means he’d like to do some real networking. Maybe he wants to propose something with D’Amico Global?
If I generate even a single lead from tonight, it’ll be a success.
“That’d be lovely!” I pull another business card from the tiny purse Taylor lent me and hold it out to him.
He looks down at the card with a thoughtful noise, his lips twitching up in amusement.
“I was hoping for your personal number…” He tilts his head to read the card before flicking his eyes up to mine again, “Miss Morgan.”
Heat flares in my gut at the open want in his gaze, the quick flash of his tongue when he wets his lips. I may have misread it earlier, but there’s no way to mistakethisfor anything but flirting.
Blatantflirting, at that.
“O-oh. Um. Yes, yeah, sure.”
I fumble a pen out of my purse and scribble my cell number on the back. He plucks it from my hand with a smug grin when I hold it out this time.
“Perfect,” he says smoothly, like I’m not so flustered I’m about to self-combust. “Run along to your friends before they miss you. I’ll text you.”
He nods over his shoulder as he pockets the card, and I find myself obeying on autopilot. Did that just happen? Or did I just have a very vivid, anxiety-induced hallucination?
That makes more sense, right?
I glance behind me just before I reach Taylor’s little circle, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, just to prove to myself he was real, but he’s nowhere to be found. I shake my head to clear it before painting on the same strained smile I’ve worn all night.
“What took you so long?” Taylor asks as I step up beside her, already reaching for a cube of pineapple with a toothpick in it. “I was about to come get you myself.”
“Oh, I was talking?—”
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention,” a voice calls out over the microphone, cutting me off as the lights dim.
My phone buzzes at the same time, and I glance into my bag to see it’s a text from an unknown number. Everyone’s attention is fixed to the front, where one of the board members is giving a speech thanking specific donors, so I surreptitiously pull my phone out to check it.
Did my mystery man actually text me?
Unknown Number: Be good and rub some elbows for me, Miss Morgan.
My breath hitches with excitement. It wasreal. Holy shit.
Taylor nudges me with her elbow, nodding her head toward the stage with a playful glance down at my phone. I slip it back into my purse just as tonight’s guest of honor steps out onstage, unmasked and wearing a navy suit that clings to him like asecond skin. Dark hair carefully styled to fall in perfect waves across his forehead, olive skin that glows under the spotlights, and a dangerously charming smile.
Nicholas D’Amico.
My CEO. Also my biggest, most hopeless crush.
I bite my lips to stifle a dreamy sigh. Taylor snickers knowingly from beside me.
Maybe my new mystery man will be able to pull me away from just how ridiculously smitten I am with my boss. God knows literallyanyonewould be more attainable.
CHAPTER 2
