The CEO

by Hazel Parker

  “No. He won’t return my calls or my emails. He’s intensely private. He hasn’t been seen in public with anyone. No wife. No girlfriend. No Hollywood celebs.”

  “What else?”

  “He has a massive holding company that acquires low-risk—”

  “Companies such as shipping and logistics companies that operate as tax shelters for his numerous and highly lucrative offshore investments. Yeah, I know the business end. I Googled him. I meant about him personally. Is he nice? Is he mean?”

  “He’s a billionaire. What do you think?”

  Nora pauses in fiddling with her hair. She peers into her dark brown eyes across her long eyelashes, and she asks herself the same question. What does she think? Did he become a billionaire by being nice?

  “I can’t work for another man who doesn’t value my skills.”

  “Oh, he values people’s skills, alright.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly that. He hires the best and the brightest and grooms them to rise through his corporation. It’s a good place to be if you’re ambitious.”

  “You know I am.” She smiles at her reflection: fading tan, pink lips, heart-shaped face. She decides to go light on the make-up for a natural look. Then she applies pink lip gloss instead of lipstick.

  “Good luck, girl!”

  “Thanks, Arabella. I really appreciate our early morning chats.” The two friends laugh.

  Ever since Arabella had her baby, she became an early riser. Back in college, she would party all night and sleep in late on Saturdays and Sundays. Now, she went to bed early, unless she was taping her cable TV show.

  “Call me and let me know how it goes!” Arabella says. “What time is it?”

  “In the afternoon.” Nora hesitates in telling Arabella the details.

  “Downtown? Midtown?”

  “Savannah.”

  “Savannah! Are you flying?”

  “He’s sending a helicopter for me.”

  “Excuse me? He’s really pulling out all the stops. He must really want you. Then he’s flying you back?”

  “Then his company is having a masquerade party.”

  “What?”

  “He said that a mask will be provided. Which reminds me. What should I wear to the party?”

  “Girl, he’s going to have his entire team watching you. Wear something that covers you up but isn’t dowdy. No little black dress! How about that high-necked sleeveless black flare dress that belts at the waist and is above your knees in the front but reaches the floor in the back?”

  “Yes! I forgot about that.” Nora goes to her walk-in closet and reaches for a black garment bag. “I had it laundered weeks ago. It’s perfect. Thanks!”

  “That’s what I’m here for. And wear high heels. High high-heels. No kitten heels. I’m talking at least four inches.”

  “To the interview or to the party?”

  “The party. Wear three-inch heels to the interview.”

  “Thanks, girl. I gotta go prepare.”

  “Bye, girl!”

  Nora hangs up without saying goodbye. She doesn’t like the finality of it. It reminds her of when her older brother called her from college when he was twenty-one and she was twelve.

  Nora remembers Jason asking her if she could stay up with him and chat. It was a Saturday night, and she was in her room watching movies and messaging her friends. She loved talking to her older brother. She loved his stories. He told her about the time the FBI showed up at his dorm door because he managed to hack into their database and found out the names of all their undercover agents. They interrogated him heavily and he signed nondisclosure forms regarding everything he hacked. He is lucky he wasn’t in jail. Nora never told anyone either. Her dad used to get mad at Jason’s stories. She can still hear her dad yelling at Jason:

  “Stop with the stories! Stop! You’re lying! Just stop!”

  Her mother used to calm her father down and chase after Jason. Nora would hear them through the bedroom door, where she leaned her ear against it. Her mother would say that her dad didn’t really mean what he said. He just didn’t understand Jason. Jason used to cry. The older he got, the less he cried. He stopped coming home from college.

  She walks over to her dresser and picks up a silver frame with a photo of herself and Jason when she was five and he was fourteen. They were digging clams on Prince Edward Island. Her parents would go anywhere they could sail. They spent the summer sailing up the northeast coast of Canada. She remembers fishing, swimming, and snorkeling. She remembers barbecues and freshly baked bread and sweet lemonade. She can still smell the salty sea. She misses Jason.

  Nora puts the photo down, finishes packing for her trip, swings the garment bag over her shoulder, wheels her small suitcase and briefcase to the apartment door, and heads out to the black car waiting to drive her to Fulton County Airport, about seven miles from the central business district of Atlanta.

  On the drive over, Nora takes in the new construction. She’s amazed at how much Atlanta has expanded since the ninety-six Olympics. Although she was only four in ninety-six, when she moved to Atlanta she read about the history of the city and saw photos of how much it has developed over the years. She loves cities. She loves seeing the boutiques and restaurants and yoga studios cropping up. It makes her feel alive to know that she’s in a thriving city.

  At the airport, the driver retrieves Nora’s luggage and garment bag and carries them into the building for her. After she tips him, she looks around, unsure of what to do next.

  “Miss Thomas?” That voice from yesterday asks.

  “You?” She turns around to face the man in black.

  “How was your drive?” He gestures for her luggage.

  “Wonderful.” She hands it over.

  “Good. Follow me.” He wheels her bags through the rustic building.

  She walks a step behind him so that she can observe him. Beneath the clear blue sky and cool winter sun, he moves smoothly like a man accustomed to being in charge. His broad shoulders fill out his expensive black coat. She sees now that his pants are tailored, and his black wing-tipped shoes are...Italian.

  What kind of driver is he?

  As if reading her mind, the chauffeur turns and asks:

  “Am I walking to fast?” He slows down.

  “I didn’t catch your name.” Nora peers into his black sunglasses and sees only her reflection. She tells herself to be calm and resumes her poker-face.

  Ignoring her question, he smiles.

  Nora feels the full warmth of his amusement hidden behind his sunglasses. She wonders what he looks like without the dark glasses and the black hat. He could very well be hot. He’s confident. She likes confident men.

  “Seriously?” They cover the gray tarmac in seconds and reach a large black helicopter. Turning her attention to the flying contraption that she’s trusting her life to for the next forty minutes, Nora takes in the size. “It’s like a sedan.”

  The man in black laughs. He stores her luggage in the back compartment. Then opens the front passenger door and gestures for her to get into the front seat.

  “Where’s the pilot?”

  “He’s coming.” The driver holds out his gloved hand.

  Nora rests her hand in his and feels an electric shock shoot through her.

  What was that?

  She looks down. She wills her pulse to slow down. This is ridiculous. She doesn’t know who this man is. She doesn’t know his name. She can’t even see his eyes.

  And yet, the mystery makes her want to know more.

  Who knows?

  Maybe she could have a fling with the driver. Maybe she could get some much needed sexual release. Maybe not. She has learnt when she hooks up with a man when and wants love it only leads to disastrous results.

  She remembers the first time she had a one-night-stand. This was right after graduation when Rex broke up with her. He was everywhere. He popped up at all of their mutual friends’ celebration
parties. Nora wanted to cry, wanted to die, wanted to lie about their couple status. Rex had the decency not to bring any dates around her. But she heard from their mutual friends that he was hooking up with several of their classmates.

  After days of crying and binging on ice cream and Dirty Dancing, Nora decided to get out of their recently shared apartment and meet a hot guy and have great sex. She went to a downtown bar in Boston. She had two shots of Jack Daniels to calm her nerves, but not to blur her vision. She met a super cute mathematician from MIT who was overwhelmed by her overtures. She took him back to her place. They made out and dry-humped for an hour until she asked him if he wanted to have sex with her and he—shocked—said yes. She had condoms—she always had condoms. She never wanted to accidentally get pregnant. They had awkward-and-then-pretty-good sex. In the morning he made her scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Rex used to cook for her too.

  The memory of Rex cooking her favorite banana pancakes and warming up the maple syrup for her made her tear up. She missed him. She didn’t want to miss him. She began to cry. The poor MIT guy stood awkwardly in the kitchen. He hugged her. She sobbed on his bony shoulder. When she was finally done crying, breakfast was cold. He warmed everything in the microwave, and they ate side by side.

  She never saw him again. She was embarrassed. Instead of getting over Rex, being with another man just made her miss him even more. Whoever said that you get over your ex by being with the next, hadn’t met Nora.

  So, she decided to follow Arabella’s Billionaire Boy dating rules: no sex before a committed relationship that will lead to marriage. Three years later, Nora has not had sex with anyone. One year into abstinence she invested in a low-key vibrator. Between that, ice cream, and long runs, Nora has managed not to lose her mind.

  But being so close to this mysterious man, she wonders if maybe… maybe she’ll try that one night stand again. Maybe, now that she’s twenty-six, she can handle it. She needs to get laid. But could she date a driver?

  Lost in her thoughts, Nora doesn’t notice that the mysterious man isn’t just checking to make sure everything is copacetic in the cockpit. He’s actually turning things on.

  “What are you doing?” Nora’s voice rises in alarm.

  The man in black turns to face Nora. He pulls off his dark sunglasses. His blue eyes twinkle with amusement. His long thick eyelashes are that stuff that envy is made of. He’s got dirty blond stubble that reminds her of pictures of a guy she saw online this morning. Those pink lips…that perfect nose... Nora recognizes him from her internet search this morning. He’s hot. She’s dazed. He’s—

  “Sebastian Price.” Her breath leaves her. She searches for the right words and they don’t come.

  He regards her openly. His open stare elicits a deep down clench of her muscles. Her temperature rises.

  “Nice to meet you.” He extends his right hand. She takes it. Their hands touch, and she melts.

  What is happening to her?

  “Nice to meet you.” Her words come out too soft. At least her handshake is firm.

  “Mr. Price—” She feels like she should ask him about the open position or his company.

  “Sebastian.” He smiles warmly at her.

  “Sebastian.” She breathes his name.

  Sebastian Price—billionaire CEO of Price Holdings. Sebastian Price—mysterious man, possible playboy. Sebastian Price—who went to an Ivy League college like Nora. Sebastian Price—who reached out to Nora to personally recruit her to be his senior associate in-house legal counsel. Sebastian Price—who pretended to be a driver, because… because he wanted to see how she treats staff? Because he wanted to see if she was kind or rude?

  Nora has heard of vetting candidates through informal gatherings like luncheons or dinners or even happy hours, but by pretending to be a chauffeur? Why?

  “Can I ask you something?” She turns her head, cautious to mask her confusion. She needs to appear calm at all times.

  “Not if it’s about the open position.” He grins at her with an irresistable sexy smile.

  “Okay...are you really gonna fly this thing?” Her vast vocabulary abandons her. She’s reduced to teenage-speak.

  “Yeah, I’ve got a license.”

  “How long have you been flying?” The Virgo in her comes to life. She meets his gaze straight on.

  “Seven years. This is a Robinson R44 helicopter. It can fly up to three hundred and fifty miles safely. We’re going about a hundred less than that.” He reaches over. “Excuse me, I just need to tighten these. We want you safe and secure.”

  Sebastian takes off his black leather gloves revealing long fingers that could play a piano...or make her body sing. The former driver—then pilot—now CEO raises up and over to adjust the five-point harness with straps that connect at one buckle below her breasts. One strap comes up between her legs. When he tightens it, Nora feels the restraint press against her clitoris, making her exhale sharply.

  “Did I hurt you?” His blue eyes look genuinely concerned. His fingers pause on the two straps that span her waist.

  She shakes her head. Unable to find the words. Unable to breathe. She can smell his freshly laundered clothes and clean scent. She hasn’t been this close to a man in years. Her body aches for him to touch her. She wills her face to be impassive. She tells herself to be appropriate. He’s the CEO.

  Sebastian tightens the two belts at her waist. Instead of feeling trapped, Nora feels, oddly, safe. She feels secure. She feels swaddled. She’s not into bondage. But seeing how good this feels, she could see herself letting someone—him?—maybe not him?—restrain her.

  She inhales to clear her mind. When she exhales, her breath blows into his black hat.

  “Almost done.” He reaches up to her shoulders where the two seatbelts buckle, and he pulls them up.

  Nora’s perky breasts—full enough to fill a martini glass as her ex used to say—respond to the pressure. Her nipples harden. She thanks the powers that be that she’s wearing a padded bra and a suit. She would die from embarrassment if he saw her nipples harden. Not the kind of impression she wants to make on this...informal assessment...or whatever it is.

  She swallows. Her pulse races. Her body feels warm. She squirms, hoping to cross her legs to suppress the pleasure building between her thighs. But the movement only presses the seatbelt more into her nether region.

  She exhales.

  “Too tight?” The CEO hovers near her face. So close that if she leaned forward she could kiss him.

  Of course, she won’t.

  He’s the head of Price Holdings. He’s her future boss—maybe—hopefully. She can’t cross this line. Can she? She doesn’t have the job. Doesn’t even have an offer. He’s just a hot guy flying the chopper right now…right? What harm would it do? Just one kiss.

  Nora inhales. Her eyes dart from his dilating blue eyes to his moist pink lips. He licks them. A kaleidoscope of butterflies explode in her belly. If she weren’t strapped in, she would run away from him, find an empty restroom, and relieve herself of the exquisite agony of desire.

  But she’s strapped in.

  So she exhales. Then she tries to discreetly admire his very attractive face. He is so attractive. Nora hasn’t felt such a visceral attraction to a man since...Rex. The thought of her ex quiets her body. While she doesn’t cry over him anymore, she does get resentful over the fact that he broke up with her a day before graduation.

  Sebastian regards Nora openly. His breathing stills. The deafening silence of the cockpit magnifies their proximity. His blue eyes take on a curious air. Then, they dart down to her lips, and his eyes darken.

  Slowly, the CEO moves back from Nora. He settles into his seat. Still holding her eye contact, he asks:

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes.” Nora’s words are breathy. She wishes she could control her racing heart.

  “You’re in good hands.” Then he flashes a smile that would launch a million screaming tweens.

  The thought
of being in this confident man’s hands sends Nora’s heart pounding again. Again, she tries to cross her legs, like she usually does when she’s nervous, but the harness prevents her legs from meeting. Nora pleads with her hormones to stop rushing.

  She glances over at the CEO to see if he notices her impending orgasm. He doesn’t. He’s flipping switches, checking gauges, going over dials, and watching little lights blink on the vast dashboard in front of them.

  “Time to put your cans on.”

  “What?”

  He nods at some black headphones in front of Nora. She puts them on. Sebastian gives her the thumbs up. Then he puts his on and starts the rotor blades. Nora is surprised that she can still hear the roaring of the helicopter blades through the headphones.

  “Wow.”

  “First time in a helicopter?”

  Surprised, she hears his kind voice in the headphones. Distracted, she jumps, which presses the harness against her body, which sends a wave of hormones rushing through her body. She swallows. Her heart races. She’s excited. She’s annoyed. She can’t believe that she’s in a helicopter with the CEO and she doesn’t even care that he withheld his identity for so long. She should be mad. She should feel tricked. Instead she feels...comfortable...safe...content.

  “Do you do this often?” She tries for a joke, and it comes out sounding… sleazy. Instantly she regrets the question.

  He flashes a grin at her that sets her blood on fire. She feels like a teenage girl with her first crush. She doesn’t have time for this. She needs to focus on her interview. She needs to quit her current job.

  “Guess.” He keeps smiling.

  She rolls her eyes. How can she guess?

  “Yes?”

  “Yes?” That sends him laughing.

  His laughter is like liquid sunshine pouring into her ears and through her body. She likes his lighthearted laugh. She wants to laugh and live carefree. She wonders if he can fly this thing to Hawaii or Dubai or Morocco.

  She feels those wants rolling in like the sea coming in at tide. She also feels the fear of those wants drowning her.

  Who is he Sebastian Price, anyway?

  “What was your first job?” She decides that guessing his motive is an act of futility. She needs a more focused line of questioning. She’ll pretend she’s deposing a potential witness.