The CEO

by Shealy James

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Buzz, buzz.

  Buzz, buzz.

  “Ugh, I’m coming,” I shouted and then whispered, “Chill out,” to myself. Once I was free from the blanket, I made my way to the door. Grant. I opened the door to find a disheveled Grant pacing the hallway.

  “You are here!” Grant took two large steps to me and wrapped me tightly in his arms.

  “Of course I’m here. I fell asleep.” Oh shit on a shingle! I just realized what I was wearing. Apparently it didn’t matter, because Grant wasn’t letting my body away from his. He picked me up like a child and carried me inside my dark apartment straight to my bedroom.

  When we were both lying on my bed, he turned on my crystal bedside lamp and looked at me. “You all right? Tara said you weren’t feeling well.”

  “I’m fine. Just tired. I stayed up late last night baking then woke up early to make the icing.”

  He gently pushed hair out of my face. “You had me worried. I couldn’t get in touch with you. I have been pounding on your door for near twenty minutes.”

  “I’m sure my neighbors hate you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged it off like only men can do.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He seemed completely unperturbed. “I told you I would see you after my meeting. I was going to take you to a late dinner, but you weren’t there. Tara said I could find you here.”

  “You didn’t trace my phone?”

  “My gorgeous girl and her sarcasm. Do they teach you that in Georgia schools?”

  “Who’s sarcastic now? Do they teach you how to run over people in Seattle prep schools?” I countered.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I laughed silently. “Grant, you have two speeds. Stationary or stampede. There is no in between with you.” Secretly, I thought I could like them both, but I wasn’t going to tell him that, especially not when I was still trying to get over the last stampede.

  “Is that a problem?” he asked with a single brow raised.

  I glanced up at him and melted at the way he was looking down at me. “No, I don’t think it is,” I reluctantly admitted. So much for keeping my heart firmly closed.

  He pulled me closer to him and whispered, “Christ, I hope not. I don’t think I could take it if you didn’t feel what I feel.”

  I hummed in response, so he kissed me, making my body immediately surrender to him. It would have been a perfect moment had my body not decided to make one of those unpleasant noises that only happens at the most inopportune times.

  My stomach growled…loudly.

  When the obnoxious rumble escaped my body, Grant laughed. “Okay, my little peach needs to be fed. How else are you supposed to get round and fat-like peaches?”

  “Oh, shut up and feed me.”

  Chapter 13

  The first time I went to Grant’s apartment was that weekend. Like Grant, his home was overwhelming. It was the entire top floor of his building, having been his parents’ originally, which explained the décor. Everything in the giant penthouse was expensive and could belong in a museum. It was very old world and seemed strange to see in Seattle, a city known for its modernism and green movement. There was nothing modern in this place except the appliances.

  I think what tripped me up the most was the fact that Grant had a staff. He had a live-in cook and a housekeeper. Now, my mom had a lady come to the house and clean every other week, but it wasn’t anything like Grant’s staff. Grant had someone to do his laundry and make his bed every day. How lazy must you be to pay someone to fluff your pillows? Needless to say, the introduction to the museum-like penthouse didn’t go as well as he’d hoped.

  I knew I was in trouble the second he punched in a code to a private elevator. When the elevator opened to a private foyer, I felt the lead in my stomach. This was what Tara had been warning me about. When she said he was out of my league, she meant his parents’ finances put him in a league all of his own. I knew Grant made his own money now, but he was old money, the kind of money that came from a well-bred, well-to-do lifestyle. We were doomed. Not only did I not fit into his world, but it was only a matter of time before Grant realized it too and found his way to Kitty or some equally worldly society girl.

  When Grant opened the giant double doors leading into his penthouse, I was already biting my lip in discomfort. It was like entering Buckingham Palace, complete with expensive crystal chandeliers—yes, plural. Girls like me did not belong in Buckingham Palace. We had only entered the expansive living room before my brain started pumping out excuses for why I needed to leave. Grant had a firm grasp on my hand, so I couldn’t run, but I thought about a sudden illness, period cramps, diarrhea, anything. Then I realized how disgusting all sudden illnesses are, and simply because of the fact they crossed my mind was precisely why I didn’t belong in the palace. I bet Kitty and Iris never got cramps that left them bedridden for a day or two.

  Grant tugged on my arm, pulling me further into the palace. “What do you think?”

  I couldn’t say what I thought, so I answered a question with a question. “You live here?”

  He looked confused. “Yes.”

  “Hmm…” was all I could think of to say aloud.

  “Why?”

  “It looks like a museum, or a showroom. I mean, have you ever sat on that loveseat?”

  “No.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t think I have. You’re more than welcome to try it out.” He gestured to the antique wood-trimmed loveseat with fluffy gold cushions. It and the matching chairs sat atop an expensive looking blue and gold oriental rug. The furniture was consistent with the other antiques skillfully placed throughout the room. Built-in shelves lined one of the walls, filled with expensive displays from all over the world. Another wall had several windows with floor to dentil moulded-ceiling silk drapes.

  I shook my head. I wanted out of this ridiculous room as quickly as possible.

  “Come on,” he said as he pulled me along. “I hate this room. My mother decorated the whole place. I have never bothered redecorating because I know how much time and money she spent on the place. I like the kitchen though, and I promised you food.” It was a relief he wasn’t into the grandeur of this particular decorating scheme. “Scott,” Grant shouted.

  A pudgy, dark-haired man in his late fifties came out from a door in the kitchen just as we walked into the predictably huge kitchen. It was beautiful. It had all the old world charm to match the décor in the other room but top of the line appliances for modern convenience.

  Maybe everything seemed bigger because I was used to my tiny apartment. I didn’t think so, though, because I was sure this kitchen was larger than my parents’, and they lived in a nice colonial house. This was a penthouse—a penthouse that took up an entire floor—but a penthouse nonetheless.

  “Hey, Grant. Let me get your brunch out of the warming drawer. I’m headed to the store today for your parents. Iris requested only local produce this week. You want anything different?” Scott said with a hint of derision in his tone.

  Grant replied with more than just a hint of contempt. “No, I’m good. Iris will probably want you to grow her a garden next week, so you might want to be prepared. Scott, this is Eve Bryant. ”

  Scott greeted me warmly before he started to set out platters of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and fruit on the rectangular kitchen table that Grant was leading me to. After he set the last plate down, Scott said, “Soon I’ll be milking cows and pasteurizing milk for her. Enjoy your brunch. I’m off. See you both later.”

  After he was gone, I said, “He seems nice.”

  “Yeah, he prefers working here where he can make me whatever he feels like creating, and he knows I’ll eat it, even if it doesn’t happen often.”

  He dropped a kiss on my cheek before he filled my plate. “When you said you were going to make me breakfast, I thought that you would either cook or you would pour me a bowl of cereal. I didn�
��t expect this.”

  He smiled like I had complimented him, but that wasn’t really how I meant it. “Eat. I’ll show you the rest of the penthouse afterward.”

  “A tour? Let me guess. The tour ends in your bedroom,” I teased, hoping that it was true and that the bedroom was a room for common-folk like me. Another room like the living room would kill my libido that had just jumped to attention at my suggestion.

  “If you’re good. Now, eat,” he commanded.

  “Yes, sir!”

  After a delicious brunch and enjoyable conversation, Grant made good on his promise of a tour. He guided me from room to room, if you could call them that, and my stomach felt like another stone sunk in it with every new room. It was beautiful, but it just wasn’t a place I would ever feel comfortable. By the time we were in his bedroom, I had a long list of excuses to get out of the palace where I was constantly telling myself not to touch anything.

  I walked over to his floor to ceiling windows lining two walls of his corner bedroom and stared out at the city. Grant quietly padded over and wrapped his arms around me. Wrapped in his warmth felt comfortable, like home, but with every step around his meticulously decorated palace in the clouds, another seed of doubt was planted until I was about to sprout doubt. I hated this feeling.

  I was a pretty confident girl. I liked who I was and what I did. Sure I had insecurities when it came to my body, but what girl didn’t? I mean, I was curvy and not very tall. I had more junk in my trunk than I should, and my rear didn’t get smaller no matter how many miles I ran. With that being said, only one other person made me doubt my self-worth, and it was because he reminded me daily of how boring and easily replaceable I was. To feel that way again because I didn’t fit in my boyfriend’s real life was leaving me unsettled.

  Grant set his chin on my shoulder. “You hate it here, don’t you?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “But…”

  “I don’t belong here.” I left it at that.

  “And you think because you feel like you don’t belong here that you don’t belong with me,” he said, reading my thoughts.

  I turned in his arms and lifted my arms around his neck and ran my fingers through his hair. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you thought it.” He exhaled with defeat.

  “But I thought it,” I confirmed.

  “How many reasons have you come up with so far to tell me it’s over?” he asked sadly.

  I smiled up at him. “None, actually. I do, however, have a long list of reasons why I needed to leave this museum right away.”

  He laughed. “Like what?”

  “The first thirty weren’t appropriate to say aloud in such a place, and the second thirty were arguable. You wouldn’t have believed any of them.”

  He nodded his head like he was considering this. “Wow. It sounds like you have done a lot of thinking since we arrived.”

  “I guess.” I pushed away from Grant to gather my thoughts. “This place is a little overwhelming. Your life is overwhelming. We’ve existed in this wonderful little bubble where it is just us in my tiny apartment with my Target bed sheets, Pottery Barn lamps, and IKEA couch you hate so much. You, on the other hand, have a staff.”

  “Is this the part where you tell me that we don’t belong together? That you don’t fit in my world? That I don’t fit in your world? We’re just too different, right?” He spoke quickly, and the anger in his voice rose as he paced in front of me.

  “No,” I said quietly.

  He apparently didn’t hear me, because his angry rant just continued. “Because that’s ludicrous. You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore. I’ve been doing everything I can to show you who I am, and you know what? You should know this place isn’t me. My parents stopped staying in the city when I came back, so they let me live here. I didn’t have any reason to get my own place, because this place would have sat empty, because they weren’t willing to sell it.

  “Hell, I don’t even sleep in the master bedroom. That is on the other side of the penthouse. This is the guest room I always stayed in when I was in town. I like it because of the morning light, not because of the four hundred dollar sheets. I knew you were going to hate this place because you are the first girl who didn’t care about who my parents were or what I had in my bank account. You scolded me for over-tipping the waiter last night because I didn’t want to wait for change. I get it! You aren’t interested in my money, or my parents’ money in this case.”

  I had been quietly laughing at him throughout his whole diatribe. He stopped pacing when he noticed. “Are you laughing at me?”

  I nodded.

  “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny.”

  I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around him, sneaking my hands under his t-shirt so I could feel the warm skin of his back. “Did you hear me arguing with you?” I asked.

  He frowned.

  “I wasn’t going to leave. I was going to continue to bite my lip until you were ready to leave your palace in the clouds and head back to reality. I may not be comfortable in your home, but how I feel in your arms is a different story. I’ll try to get used to this museum if it’s really important to you.”

  He thought to himself for a moment. “We can stay at your place anytime you want. I like it there. It’s very you.”

  “Small and charming?” I teased.

  “Exactly.” He kissed me chastely. “Thank you, baby.”

  “For what?”

  “Accepting this place. It is a little like a palace, isn’t it? You should see my parents’ house. It’s awful. This is tame compared to what she’s done there. It rivals Versailles. Iris loves her antiques.” I laughed. I should have known this wasn’t his reality as soon as I saw it. “We good?”

  “We’re good. Just don’t make me ever sit in that living room with your mother. That might make excuse number two come true.”

  “What was excuse number two?”

  Diarrhea. “Sick to my stomach.”

  “Got it. I would hate for you to vomit on her hand-woven Persian rug.” Me too!

  He bent down and lifted me off my feet before throwing me on his fancy bedding. “Ahh! My shoes.”

  “Quit worrying, babe.” He found a way to make me forget where I was. In fact, he found several ways to help me forget. I didn’t even mind waking up in his expensive bed later that day, not even with the guilt that plagued me for enjoying his luxurious four hundred dollar sheets.

  Chapter 14

  The next Friday night, Grant and I stopped by the pizza place so Grant could take care of Frank, then we went on our first double date with Tara and Daniel. Suddenly, Tara had found someone she “could really see herself with,” whatever that meant for her. Grant was charming as always, and I fell a little deeper for him when he was so entertaining with my friend and her new boyfriend. I had never had the awesome boyfriend before, but I did that night and the many nights before.

  Over the past week he guided me all over Seattle, and I showed him how to enjoy it all. We had gone back to the driving range last Sunday after we skipped the family brunch—Grant’s idea, not mine—and this time Maddox wasn’t there to spoil it all. Maddox did meet us on Tuesday for dinner where he brought his boyfriend, Nolan. The whole boyfriend thing was a shock considering how flirty he seemed when we first met, but seeing the guys together made perfect sense.

  The best part was Nolan ended up becoming my new best friend. I informed Holly of her impending replacement right away, and she was fine with it for as long as we were a country apart from each other.

  Nolan and I had lunch every day after our first meeting, and it was Nolan who I called when I started to freak out over the Fourth of July party Grant insisted I attend with him. His parents were hosting, and it was cocktail attire. Nolan was going as well, but Maddox’s father didn’t know he was gay, so they weren’t going as a couple. After I introduced Nolan to Tara on one of our lunch dates, he decided to take her to the party inste
ad. She knew Daniel wouldn’t mind her attending a party with a gay man, so she excitedly agreed.

  Nolan had already tried to convince Grant to let him take me, but Grant wasn’t having it. In fact, Nolan and I continuously taunted Grant about it because it made him growl, and we all knew what that did to me. Plus, the possessive “she’s mine” sex was definitely one of my favorites.

  Saturday morning after our double date, Grant and I were enjoying our alone time in bed. The weekends were the only days he stayed in bed until I woke up. It was also the first night all week I had spent the night at his penthouse. It wasn’t exactly my choice, but his place was closer to the restaurant, and after hours of teasing each other, we both wanted to be in a bed as quickly as possible.

  I didn’t mind sleeping in his comfortable bed with his expensive sheets, and he was right about his room getting morning light. He could close the heavy drapes blocking it all out, but my man was a morning person. Lying in his bed with him running his fingers up and down my back was the most relaxed I had been in a really long time. I smiled contentedly.

  “You awake, peach?” he asked when he felt me stir.

  “Hmm…”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Hmm…” I turned my head to kiss Grant’s chest but remained lying on top of him, cuddled in his arms.

  “That’s a yes. I need to talk to you about something while you’re still half asleep.” Of course that woke me right up. I set my chin on his chest so I could see his eyes. He looked down his nose at me and ran his fingers soothingly through my hair. “I know you, Nolan, and Tara are going shopping today, so I’m going to give you a credit card. Tara and Nolan both already know, so you aren’t going to get away with not using it. I want to buy you a dress for the party and anything else you need or want. Tara said you needed a new handbag, so buy one. Buy whatever you want.”

  “She said that, did she? I don’t need a bag, and I don’t need your credit card. I can afford a dress.”

  “I know you can, but I want you to get whatever you want. Please just use the card and don’t argue with me about this. You’re coming to this party for me, so let me spoil you. I figure it’s the least I can do. It’s very possible I’ll still owe you a thousand favors after dragging you to this.”