Tempted by the CEO: An Office Romance

by Iona Rose

  “Honey?” William says to her. “The Jensons have just arrived.” He turns to me and Brett. “Please excuse us,” he says. “We’ll catch up later on ok?”

  I smile and nod. Tanya smiles shyly again and the pair move away.

  “She isn’t what I was expecting,” I say to Brett. “I’ve never met her before, but I always thought she would be like William. Kind of loud you know? I didn’t expect her to be so shy.”

  “She’s probably not used to getting a word in, if William is the loud one.” Brett grins. “And at a party like this, she’s probably under strict instructions to look pretty and not steal his thunder.”

  I can’t help but laugh. He might just be right about that. I look around the room as we talk and I spot three of the different prospects Mr. Connell has been courting. I point them out to Brett and give him some background information on each of them.

  He listens attentively and nods his head.

  As I’m almost finished telling him about the last potential client, a large man spots us and starts making his way towards us. He grins, a warm, friendly grin and I feel a pit of dread in my stomach. I have no idea who he is, but clearly he knows me. How could I have forgotten a client so completely that I don’t recognize his face at all?

  It’s only when I glance at Brett and see him grinning too while stepping towards the man, do I realize with relief that it’s Brett he recognizes, not me.

  He reaches us and shakes Brett’s hand warmly, then pulls him into a hug. “How are you?” he asks, holding Brett at arm’s length for a moment and looking him up and down. He goes on without giving Brett a chance to respond, “I didn’t know you were back in the city. And if I had have known, I still would never have guessed you’d be at a party like this.”

  “That makes two of us.” Brett’s grin fades a little. “I only got back to the city yesterday. My father had a heart attack and I’m overseeing his company for a couple of weeks until he’s back on his feet.”

  “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I’ve put my foot right in it haven’t I,” the man says, suddenly looking awkward.

  “No, honestly, it’s fine,” Brett insists. “My father is all right. He just has to rest for a couple of weeks.”

  The man nods. He half turns away for a moment, scanning the room. His eyes land on a woman wearing a yellow knee length dress. “Judy,” he shouts. She looks over and he beckons to her. “Come on over here. Brett’s here and he’s all grown up.”

  I smile to myself as the woman comes over.

  She grabs Brett by his upper arms and kisses first one cheek and then the other. She laughs and rubs away the lipstick marks she’s left. “Well, if it isn’t little Brett Connell. Mind you, you’re not so little now. I think you were around eleven or twelve the last time I saw you,” she exclaims.

  “How are you Mrs. Simmons?” Brett asks.

  It’s strange hearing him address the woman as Mrs. Simmons rather than using her first name, but from the short exchange they’ve had, I’m guessing the couple are old friends of the Connells and Brett probably grew up addressing the couple as Mr. and Mrs. Simmons because of his father’s insistence on everything being formal and proper.

  “Oh, I’m good thank you,” Mrs. Simmons says. “And how about you? What are you doing with yourself these days?”

  “Well, I’m currently sitting in for my father for a few weeks,” Brett says, carefully skipping over the part about the heart attack, not wanting to make the same mistake as he made with Mr. Simmons and making everything awkward. “But I have my own company now. I’ve actually been in France for the last year overseeing the opening of a new branch out there.”

  He’s been in France. That explains why I haven’t seen him in a year. So from the argument I overheard with him and his father, it seems like Mr. Connell tried to do something to stop Brett from expanding his business overseas.

  “Oh, how exciting!” Mrs. Simmons gushes. “I love France.”

  “Me too,” Mr. Simmons puts in. “There’s a hell of a market for asset management over there right now. And of course, it doesn’t hurt that it’s such a romantic place right? Not for a young guy like you.”

  I get the impression he added that last bit for his wife’s benefit.

  Brett looks kind of awkward and he just smiles.

  “So?” Mr. Simmons presses him. “Have you met any nice girls out there? Anyone special?”

  Brett shakes his head.

  I sigh with relief. No wife. No significant other. Not that it should matter to me. But it does. No matter how much I try to tell myself nothing can happen between Brett and I, and that he has shown no signs whatsoever that he’s even interested in me, hearing that he’s not taken still makes me feel good.

  My sigh draws their attention to me.

  I feel myself blush when all of their eyes land on me at once.

  “Where are my manners?” Brett says. “Opal, this is Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, old friends of my parents.”

  “Less of the old,” Mr. Simmons says, shaking my hand.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, this is Opal Collins. She’s my father’s personal assistant and she’s helping me settle into the company.”

  “Oh, you’re Opal,” Mrs. Simmons says, nodding to me. “Robert speaks very highly of you.”

  Smiling, I am flattered that Mr. Connell has said nice things about me. I am a little disappointed that the introductions seem to have brought the original conversation to a halt though. I was learning more about Brett.

  “What’s it like working for Robert then?” Mr. Simmons winks at me. “Tell me everything. All of the things I can use against him, especially.”

  I start to tell him about my job and what it’s like to work for the company. Naturally, I don’t tell him anything bad, although in fairness, I really enjoy my job, and it would be hard for me to think of anything particularly bad to say about working for Mr. Connell or the company.

  Brett is talking animatedly to Mrs. Simmons and I try to listen, but Mr. Simmons won’t give me a chance to pause to see what I can hear. He fires question after question at me, and in the end, I give up trying to hear anything interesting about Brett’s life. I do notice though that when a waiter comes by, myself and the Simmons’ switch our empty glasses for fresh ones, that Brett takes one too. Good. Maybe he will loosen up a little after all.

  5

  After what feels like forever, the Simmons’ excuse themselves and move on to talk to another couple that stand nearby.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Brett says.

  I frown. “Sorry about what?”

  “Mr. Simmons. He’s harmless enough, but he’s a little full on isn’t he?”

  “He sure likes to ask a lot of questions,” I say, going for the answer I hope is tactful.

  “He’s always been the same,” Brett says.

  Before I can say anything else, we are approached again. This time, it’s by one of Mr. Connell’s potential leads. I nudge Brett, hoping he’ll remember who the man is.

  Brett doesn’t disappoint and he launches into a speech about the company and what they can do for the man. I throw in a supporting point here and there, and by the end of the conversation, Brett has a meeting organized with him.

  Over the course of the next hour, that pattern repeats itself time and time again. Brett and I find ourselves momentarily alone and we just start to speak to each other when we are interrupted again. Each time, it’s like we’re starting over and we never get a chance to move past the small talk and talk about anything outside of work stuff. The more times we get interrupted, the more I can feel myself getting annoyed at everyone who approaches us. I want to scream at them to go away and leave us alone for ten minutes.

  The wine is flowing and people are starting to relax more, so the constant stream of people wanting to talk to Brett and me is only getting longer and more annoying. I’m debating excusing myself to go to the bathroom to try to get a handle on how frustrated the constant interruptions are making me, when
I hear a clinking sound.

  I look in the direction of the door we entered through where the sound is coming from.

  William and Tanya stand in the doorway.

  William is tapping something against a glass. He waits until he has the attention of the room. “Ladies and gentleman, dinner is about to be served. Please follow us to the dining room.” He turns and moves away.

  Then as one, the guests begin to follow him. He leads us across the entrance way and through a door on the opposite side of the mansion. The dining room is huge, and a long table in the center of the room is set for dinner.

  People make their way towards the table and I follow Brett as he moves towards one of the ends. A woman in a white dress with a long string of pearls around her neck moves in on Brett’s other side.

  It becomes instantly clear to me that she’s moved in on purpose, planning to sit beside him for the dinner, and maybe try to get her claws into him.

  I feel a surge of jealousy, but it fades slightly when Brett catches my eye and eye rolls in the woman’s direction and then pulls a face. I grin at him and he laughs softly. We reach the table and Brett pulls out a chair for me. I thank him and he nods then takes the seat beside me.

  Pearl woman pounces on the seat on the other side of Brett and promptly engages him in conversation.

  I can’t hear what she’s saying. I think she’s purposely keeping her voice low, trying to freeze me out of the conversation, and much to my dismay, it seems to be working. Brett nods along with her, smiling politely and occasionally answering her questions. He doesn’t seem particularly interested in what she’s saying, but he doesn’t seem to be attempting to shut her up, so he can turn back and talk to me either.

  I sit awkwardly, not sure where to look as Brett ignores me on one side of me, and the man at my other side talks to the woman beside him, presumably his wife. I pick up my glass and drink some wine, more for something to focus on than anything else.

  After a few painful minutes, the doors from the kitchen open as a team of waiters and waitresses stream in, each carrying two plates. They position themselves around the table, and then as one, they place a plate before each guest.

  Staring down at the plate, I’m overjoyed to see the starter is a prawn cocktail, one of my favorites. As I reach for my fork, my arm brushes against Brett’s and I look up. He’s finally facing towards me, ready to talk to me. Part of me wants to be short with him and tell him not to bother, but I remind myself this is a business event, not a date, and he’s under no obligation to focus on me all night.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he says quietly, leaning in so no one else can hear our conversation. “She’s the wife of one of my clients and she seems to have taken a liking to me. I have to walk a very fine line between being attentive enough not to upset her and have husband fire me and no so attentive that I give her even the slightest hint that I’m interested in her. Which I’m not.”

  I feel slightly better about being ignored since he’s explained the situation. I know exactly where he’s coming from. There’s always that one client or client’s partner that needs to be made to feel special. I also couldn’t help but notice he made a point of letting me know he wasn’t interested in her. I want to read something into this, but the rational side of me won’t let me read anything into it. It was just the fact he didn’t want me to think he was pursuing a client’s wife.

  We finish our starters and the team of wait staff clear the table quickly and efficiently and bring out our main courses. The main course is a beautifully presented chicken breast wrapped in flaky pastry and stuffed with cheese and pancetta. It is served with a medley of roasted vegetables and creamy looking mashed potato. I cut into the chicken and chew it slowly, relishing the flavor. It is cooked to perfection, moist, juicy and utterly delicious.

  “So are you having a good time?” Brett asks me.

  I smile and nod. “Yes. It’s fascinating to see how other people live isn’t it?” I say. “Although I must admit I was starting to find it overwhelming keeping track of everyone earlier. Don’t worry though, I have the important people to the company memorized.”

  “Relax Opal.” Brett laughs. “It wasn’t a test. I was just making sure you were enjoying the evening. I know what a drag it can be when you have to attend these things regularly and I wanted to make sure you weren’t too bored.”

  I laugh softly with him and shake my head. “I’m definitely not bored,” I say. “And to be honest, it’s very rare I come to these things. Your father usually comes alone or brings your mother. I only step in when he can’t attend for some reason.”

  “Ah, so it’s all still fairly new to you then,” Brett says. “Don’t worry, you’ll start to dread them soon enough.”

  “So you were dreading this evening?” I ask.

  “Actually, I thought this evening might be a bit more entertaining than normal. You know, because I thought it would be nice to get to know you a little better, outside of the office.”

  My heart skips a beat. Did he really just say what I thought he said? He did. I know he did. He didn’t mean it in the way I wish he meant it, but it’s good to know he’s at least willing to give us a chance to be more than formal colleagues.

  “I’m sorry, was that crossing a line?” Brett frowns.

  I realize I have been quiet too long, stunned into blissful silence by his revelation. I shake my head. “No. Not at all,” I say quickly. “I was just a little surprised by it, that’s all. I’ve worked for your father for three years now, almost a year as his personal assistant, and he’s never once made an effort to get to know me as a person.”

  “Yeah, he’s old school,” Brett says, waving his hand dismissively. “He still thinks there should be a professional distance between employees and their boss.”

  “And what do you think about that?” I ask, the wine and Brett’s sudden friendliness making me brave.

  “I think people generally work better together when they know each other socially. I think it’s good to get to know the people I work alongside. There’s a time and a place to be formal, but there’s also a time and a place to be something a little more.”

  I can’t decide if he’s flirting with me or not. I don’t think he is. I’m sure if he were, he would be a lot better at it, leaving me in no doubt about it. But I so badly want him to be flirting with me that I allow myself to believe that maybe he’s testing the water a little bit to see if I would respond if he did so. “I agree,” I say. “I don’t think there’s any harm in people getting to know each other, outside of the office.” My cheeks flush as I speak. I quickly pick up my wine glass and take a drink so I can look anywhere but at Brett’s intense, probing eyes.

  “So tell me something about you,” he says. “Something that you wouldn’t bring up at the office.”

  As I set my glass down, I wrack my brains trying to come up with something mildly interesting. When I’m put on the spot this way, I realize how boring my life is. How normal and run of the mill I am. It’s like when someone asks what my hobbies are. I’d love to be able to say white water rafting, or parachute jumping or something interesting, instead of reading and watching movies. “I was once the captain of the girl’s football team when I was in school.”

  “Really?” Brett tilts his head at me. “And did you guys win anything?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “You wouldn’t remember if you had?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

  “Probably not. We were six at the time.”

  Brett throws his head back and laughs.

  “What about you?” I say, feeling brave again, since he’s laughing. “Tell me something about you.” Please don’t say you’re a train spotter or that you collect anything vaguely train related.

  “On my gap year, which my father wasn’t at all happy about me having, I backpacked extensively and I climbed Kilimanjaro.”

  “Wow, really? That makes my football thing seem a little tame,” I say.

 
; “But is it true? Your football story?” he asks.

  “Of course.” I frown.

  “Then your story is better than mine.” He grins. “Because mine isn’t technically true. I did go backpacking and I did plan to climb Kilimanjaro, but I twisted my ankle getting off the coach before we started to climb it.”

  “No way!” I laugh.

  “Yes way,” he says laughing with me. “My buddies went ahead and climbed the mountain, while I was taken to a local hospital just to make sure I hadn’t broken any bones.”

  “At least, I made it onto the pitch.” I laugh. I’m dying to ask him about France, but I’m afraid if I do, he’ll think I’m trying to steer the conversation back to work and so instead, I ask him about his time back packing.

  “We went across Europe and then we went through Russia and across most of Asia,” he says. “What about you? Have you travelled much?”

  “Not really. I’ve been on a few girly vacations to Spain and I’ve done city breaks here and there, but I never did the gap year thing. I’d like to travel more one day though. Where would you recommend?”

  “It depends on what you’re looking for,” Brett says. “I really enjoyed India, but I know it’s not for everyone. Vietnam was great for culture and history and you can’t beat Italy for a good touristy spot mixed in with culture too.”

  “I’ve always fancied Rome,” I say.

  “It’s a beautiful city. I’d like to go back there one day. Especially now, since I’m a bit older and I might appreciate the sights a little more rather than spending most of my time in bars.”

  I bite my tongue to stop myself just in time before I blurt out that we should go there together one day. Hell, what am I thinking? I’m letting my guard down way too far. I am losing it.

  6

  I’m glad for the interruption when the wait staff comes back again and clears away the remains of the main course, replacing it with a watermelon and kiwi fruit flavored mousse, decorated with an intricate sugar basket. “I can make these,” I say, nodding to the sugar basket.