The CEO (5 page)

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Authors: Niquel

BOOK: The CEO
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“Night. See you at the next event.”

I led Ryan to the head table where my dad and his big wig friends sat. It was the largest table in the room, covered in a bright blue tablecloth and decorated with silver and white flowers. My dad wasn’t in to the over the top crystals and sparkles on the head table, so Rosa always omitted them.

“Sheila, should I sit here? I feel slightly out of place.”

“Listen, you are my date and you’ll be taken care of all night. You have nothing to worry about.”

Stanley the waiter came over with four shot glasses full of whiskey. He knew how much anxiety I got from these stupid events and that these would help loosen me right up.

“What are these?” Ryan asked.

“Do you trust me?” I said, searching his eyes for the correct response. He nodded his head and we both chugged back the shots. The amber liquid burned my throat on the way down, but it was nothing compared to the pain of smiling and faking it for the people there.

I walked around the table and shook hands with everyone, with Ryan right by my side. He seemed to adapt pretty well to his new surroundings.

After hours of dancing, interviews, and socializing, it was finally time to leave. I had pounded back a ton of alcohol and it was finally starting to catch up with me. I tripped and fell into Ryan’s arms as we were about to exit the dance floor. “Are you okay Ms. Sheila?”

“Sure, I drive now. Where is keys?” I slurred.

“Ms. Quinn, you cannot drive in this condition. We can go to my place down the street until you sober up and then I’ll
think
about letting you leave.”

Ryan left his car in the garage and took mine instead. My head was pounding and the sudden urge to vomit struck before he could stop the car in time, so I lurched out the window. “Sorry.”

I awoke the next morning, completely clueless as to where I was or what exactly had happened the night before. My surroundings were unfamiliar and whoever the place belonged to had left me in his bed—alone.
Dammit Sheila, what random guy did you drunk fuck this time?

The door opened and Ryan appeared in front of me with a mug filled with what I had hoped was hot coffee and handed me two aspirins. “Thanks. We didn’t do anything, right?”

“No, but if I wanted to take advantage of you Ms. Quinn, I’d prefer that you were sober while I did it.”

“Good,” I said flashing him a slight grin. I took the coffee mug from him and took a small sip of the warm liquid to wash down the pills. I couldn’t say that I was surprised I’d ended up there, but I was glad nothing had happened while I wasn’t coherent enough to dominate him like he deserved.

He turned around, walked out of the room in his basketball shorts, and left me alone. Luckily it was Friday morning and Dad believed hard workers should never work on a Friday, Saturday, or Sunday; I never disagreed with that.

Before I could focus my attention on my escape plan, Ryan returned with a burrito in his hands. “What’s in this?”

“Egg whites, cheese, peppers, onions, and turkey bacon.”

“Good, pork isn’t really my thing.”

“I figured. You didn’t strike me as the hog eating type.”

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, judging by your body, I can tell you love to keep yourself in shape, and any idiot should realize that. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“You’re right.” I couldn’t argue with that; I usually ran ten miles on the weekend, weather permitting. These legs didn’t get so sexy on their own. I took my health very seriously, excluding the heavy drinking I occasionally indulged in.

It was the day I dreaded: the day I had to present my newest idea to the board of directors. Although our company wasn’t struggling financially due to the high demand for oil, I wanted to add a more earth friendly alternative. I wanted to talk to them about converting some of our oil into natural gas.

“Sheila, the board is ready to see you now,” Karen said.

My palms started to sweat, my stomach felt uneasy, and I could feel the beat of my heart in my throat. Most of those guys were scum bags and I knew if my words didn’t persuade them, my body could.

I hiked my skirt up and unbuttoned the top clasp of my blouse.
It’s time to eat these assholes alive.

I clicked my heels into the conference room and set up my presentation board. The room was filled with a desperate circle of sex-deprived men. None of them took their eyes off me, not even the ones with shiny wedding bands wrapped around their ring fingers.

“Gentleman, as you may know, natural gas is economically convenient and a lot cleaner than heating oil, making it much better for the environment. Also, it currently costs less than heating oil and customers who chose to convert to this method of heating avoid high maintenance and equipment costs. There will be no need for pumps, motors, filters, or any type of special permits.”

“And how much would it cost to convert?” one of the big wigs asked.

“Roughly between one and five thousand dollars. It really depends on the size of the current tanks they have, how old they are, and the details of the person’s home we’ll be entering.”

“How will this gas get into their homes?”

“It’ll be piped directly in their home from our distribution and service lines, which will be connected right to their meters.”

“Do you really think people will go for this?”

“Yes, especially our elderly customers. They’ll sign up for pretty much anything that sounds like it will save them a dollar or two.”

“We like the way you think Sheila.”

“Thank you sir.”

“No, thank you.”

“We just need a few moments to deliberate, and you’ll have your answer soon.”

“Thank you for your time and consideration.” I packed up my boards and exited the room with a huge smile on my face. I could smell victory in the air and nothing could bring me down from that high.

On my way back to my office the head of the division—aka the man that decided yay or nay on my proposition—ran after me. “Sheila, wait.”

“Yes, Reginald?”

“That was a fantastic presentation you gave back there, but I think I need a little more
convincing
, if you know what I mean.”

I pushed him into the vacant conference room behind us and locked the door. Shoving him up against
the wall, I placed my lips close to his ear, inhaling his sweaty white rain scent. “What kind of
convincing
do you need, Reg?”

He cupped my ass with his hands, slightly lifting me off of my feet, and ran his nose against my cleavage. “God, you smell amazing.”

I wanted to let him
think
he was getting something from me, but there was no way in hell I’d fuck that sleaze ball. Once he placed my feet back on the ground, I grabbed a handful of his testicles. Grasping them as tight as I possibly could, I also bit the side of his neck for good measure. The stunned look on his face was priceless, and I think he got the hint.

“Yo-you can proceed with the natural gas project,” he cried out after falling to the floor in agony.

“Thank you, and next time you might want to think about who you’re dealing with. I’m not Amber, the company slut. With your salary, you couldn’t afford to lick the bottom of my heels. So fuck you, and good day, sir!”

I opened the door and peered down the corridor to make sure no one saw me leave the room. The old hags had enough shit to say about me behind my back on a daily basis. I didn’t want to fill their daily quota all at once.

Before I reached my office, I heard Ryan yell from the conference room, “So how’d it go?” I stopped in the doorway and smiled. “I have a good feeling natural gas is coming to Quinn National.”

“That’s fantastic, let’s go out and celebrate tonight!”

“Shots on you?” I asked.

“Shots on me,” he said with a one-sided grin.

I brushed my hair into a nice low bun at the back of my head and slid on my blue chiffon dress. It was light and flowy, perfect for a warm summer evening.

I felt uneasy about giving Ryan my home address, so I agreed to meet him at his place, and then he could drive from there.

He was sitting on his front steps awaiting my arrival. “Park your car here, we’re traveling on foot tonight,” he said through the car window.

“Good thing I decided to wear my flats tonight or I’d be screwed.” Sheila Quinn+ heels+ alcohol is
not a
good mix. “So, where to?”

“For you Ms. Quinn, we’re going to the Watering Hole on Broadway.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Only the best bar and grill in town. They make the best drinks and their food is absolutely mouth watering. Trust me, you’ll enjoy yourself. Live a little, Sheila.”

“Fine, let’s go.”

He didn’t actually make us walk—thank goodness. He hailed us a cab and we hit the downtown district.

We soon arrived in front of a first floor brick building with bright neon lit signs in the windows. He opened the door for me, and surprisingly it was very clean inside. There were wooden booths in the back, square tables and chairs closest to the door, and a bar running from the kitchen alongside the entrance.

The blonde hostess grabbed two menus and gave us a booth in the back of the establishment. “Becky will be your waitress, she’ll be with you momentarily.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said.

A cute brunette quickly approached us and introduced herself. “My name is Becky and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you like to start off with some drinks?”

“Yes, four shots of whiskey please.”

“You two must have come to party tonight. I’ll be right back with those.”

“Might as well start the celebration off with a bang, right?” he said.

“Right,” I agreed.

Several hours passed, and we were both drunk and exhausted from dancing all night. I felt like a normal person for once and not like Mr. Quinn’s billion dollar princess.

“One more shot!” I slurred.

“Give her one more shot!” the crowd chanted.

I chugged back the last fireball and it packed a serious punch, almost knocking me to the floor. Luckily Ryan was there to catch me. “All right everyone, I think Sheila has had enough for tonight.”

“Boo! Let her have one more shot, on me!” some random guy in the front yelled out. The bartender fixed one more fireball and I knew I had hit my limit.

Dizzy and stumbling out of the bar, Ryan couldn’t help but laugh at me. “Wh-what?”

“You.”

“Me, what?”

“For someone so small you drink enough to put any grown man to shame.”

“I have an iron stomach,” I said, slapping my abs. “Where to?”

“Back to my place.”

A short cab right later, we were back at his place. I was still highly intoxicated and he was still slightly buzzed.

“Here, have a seat and I’ll grab you some water and ibuprofen.”

I tried to look around his apartment, but my head was pounding and the room was slightly spinning. I plopped down on the brown leather couch, which felt quite soft. He came back in, handing me the pills and a bottle of water. “Thanks.”

I loosened my bun and let my curls fall free down my shoulders, then took the medicine. I placed the bottle on the coffee table and looked over at Ryan on the love seat. He was looking at me weirdly, almost creepily actually.

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