The CEO (8 page)

I sat down at my desk, staring at the fruit bouquet, and Karen interrupted me over the intercom. “Ms. Quinn, you have a special delivery.”

“Oh god, what now?”

Several large flower arrangements came through my door. A note was stuck to the last one:

FOR THE WOMAN THAT STILL CARES, FROM THE MAN THAT NEVER STOPPED.

I decided to take Ryan out that night, as a thank you for all of his help. He’d worked harder for me than any other intern I’d ever encountered.

“Ms. Quinn, you didn’t have to do this. I just really admire your work, and enjoy being able to work for you.”

“I know, Ryan, but I value you as a trusted employee and have a surprise for you tonight.”

I drove us to a fancy five star Italian restaurant. It was one of my favorite places to go with my father. Their cheesy breadsticks were to die for, and don’t get me started on their house wine selection.

I was a VIP member there and already had reservations in place for us. I came in and gave the hostess my card and she immediately got us a booth in the back of the restaurant.

I opened my purse and handed Ryan a card. “Open it.”

He tore the envelope open like a kid on Christmas, and as soon as he read what was inside his facial expression changed. “Ms. Quinn, are you serious?”

“I’m serious, Ryan. You are Quinn National’s newest employee, unless you have other plans.”

“No, this just means so much; I’ve only been with your company for a few months.”

“Yes, and in those short months, you’ve made our computers run faster, kept everything neatly filed, and sent me everything in virtual file folders. So this decision was a no-brainer. And it doesn’t hurt that you enjoy the night life like I do and make a mean cup of coffee.”

“Thank you, so much!”

“You’re welcome, and Ryan?”

“Yes?”

“Shots on me!”

Several hours later, Ryan and I were both highly intoxicated. I hailed us a cab, left my car in the parking lot, and arranged a tow to bring it back to my place.

“Shee, can I stay over your house tonight? I don’t want to go home,” he said with a slur.

“Sure.” I handed the cab driver a piece of paper with my address on it and he nodded at me in the rear view mirror.

Ryan and I both nodded off during the ride, and the cab driver had to come around and open the door for us, gently tapping me on the shoulder. “We’re here ma’am.”

“Thank you so much. Let’s go Ryan,” I said, handing the driver a fifty-dollar tip while attempting to push Ryan out of the cab.

We walked up the stars to my condo and once I opened the door, Ryan plopped down on the black leather couch. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes, I just need some water, but I should be serving you.”

“It’s fine Ryan, we’re not at work anymore.”

I went into the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water, quickly returning to the living room and handing him one.

He opened the bottle, took a sip, and placed it on the glass coffee table. Turning to me, he pushed me back on the couch. “Ryan, what are you doing?”

“I thought this was what you wanted.”

“If I wanted it, I would have had it already. I think you should lie down and get some rest.” Embarrassed, he slid his shoes off under the coffee table and lay back on the couch. I went into the hall closet to get him a blanket and before I made it back into the room, he was knocked out cold.

In due time my friend, in due time.

Having shut him down the night before, I was a little skeptical about going back into the living room in the morning. Although nothing had happened between us, that awkward sexual tension would still be there. I grabbed my robe from my bedside and slid it over my shoulders, tying it around my waist.

I went into the hallway, peering around the wall. He wasn’t there. “Ryan?” I said as I walked into the living room. He was gone and there was a note on the coffee table.

SHEILA, I HAD TO RUN, I’LL SEE YOU AT WORK LATER. –RYAN

I crumpled the note up and went back into my room to get ready for work.

I pulled into the garage and greeted the attending officer, “Hey, Bill.” I took the elevator upstairs and found that everyone seemed to be in a great mood.

“Hey, Sheila!” Ryan said, handing me a hot mug of coffee. “The building contractor faxed over the last of the paperwork and needs you to call him as soon as it’s completed.”

“Thanks,” I said, wondering why he had handed me a mug of coffee rather than leaving it on my desk. I went into my office and hung my jacket on the rack. While placing my briefcase and the mug on the table, I noticed another note on my desk.

SORRY ABOUT LAST NIGHT, SOMETIMES I GET A LITTLE CRAZY WHEN I DRINK TOO MUCH—FORGIVE ME. –RYAN

Tossing it into the shredder, I opened the folder full of contracts and paperwork and signed my life away.

I called Jacob, the contractor, and told him I’d meet with him in an hour to discuss things further.

“Jacob, everything is coming along nicely. How much longer do you think this project will take to complete?”

“About six more months at the latest. This is by far one of the easiest projects I’ve ever worked on.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you then. Oh and I expect you to be at the big reveal and launch party.”

“Thank you for the invite, I will most certainly be there.”

On my way back to my condo, my phone rang. “Hello?”

“Sheila, you’ve got to get to the hospital now, it’s Dad!” I didn’t need any other explanation; I knew something bad had to have happened for my older sister Shannon to call me. There was only one hospital he trusted with his life: The Deacon.

“Excuse me, what room is Mr. Quinn in?” I asked the receptionist in a panic.

“He’s currently in the ICU; he just came out of emergency surgery.”

“Emergency surgery for what?” I asked, puzzled.

“I’m not sure, but he’s on the tenth floor. You can take the L1 elevator around the corner.”

I quickly ran to the elevator and banged on the up arrow until the elevator finally got back to my floor. One person was inside and I nearly knocked him over trying to rush in.

I felt like time slowed down as the elevator took its sweet time to get to my floor. My father meant everything to me, and I couldn’t risk losing him—not right now, not
ever.

My sister was standing in the hallway waiting for me and filled me in before we walked into the room. She held my hand and calmly said, “Dad had a heart attack. The doctors found a small blockage in one of his main arteries, but they were able to surgically repair it. He’s resting now, so please don’t disturb him.”

“Shut up, Shannon.” I walked into the room and almost cried at the sight. Dad was on his back in bed, with tubes up his nose and wires hanging from his arms. His skin was starting to regain its caramel color and his salt and pepper hair and mustache were still well groomed.

I walked over to him and gently lifted his hand, placing a kiss on top of his knuckles. I knew he was going to be okay, but I wanted to say a short D’ua, a Muslim prayer, as I moved my hand to his heart. I recited it several times in Arabic, then once in English. “Dear Lord, please remove this pain and cure it. You are the only one who can truly remove this illness and I leave it in your hands.”

My father was the only person I would say this for. When we were younger, Mom made us perform a Salat, which was a daily prayer that needed to be completed five times a day. Once we came to the States, we no longer practiced it as religiously as we had before. We also used to pray in groups every Friday, but that was another ritual we lost moving to a new place.

After my prayer, I told Shannon to keep in touch with me and also left my number with the nurse. If there were any changes, or if things went wrong, I wanted to be the first to know.

Seeing Dad like that did upset me quite a bit and I had to let off some steam. I picked up my phone and made a call.

“Ryan, are you free tonight?”

“For you, I’m always free.”

I picked Ryan up and brought him to a nearby hotel. The things I wanted to do to him needed to be done outside of our homes. We stopped in the bar and took a few shots, and brought a huge bottle of vodka and cola upstairs with us. I handed him the keycard to slide, and entered the room behind him.