Mr. Hotshot CEO Read online

“Something’s different about you,” she says. “I’m not sure what, but something is definitely different.”

  When we had sushi together last Friday, I hadn’t even met Julian yet. I’d admired him from a distance at Chris’s Coffee Shop, but that was all.

  So much has changed since then.

  I have a bite of my delicious sandwich. “You’re never going to believe what happened.”

  I tell her about meeting Julian and our deal and moving in with him. She hasn’t heard of his family before, but penthouse-owning CEO gets the point across. I also mention that we’ve started sleeping together.

  When I finish my story, she looks at me with wide eyes.

  “Wow,” she says. “Wow. This is actually happening to my friend. When do I get to meet this man of yours? And does he have any hot friends?”

  “He has a brother who made a fortune selling his tech start-up, but last time I checked, you were still married.”

  “Details, details.” Bethany waves this off as though it’s not important, and we laugh. “What’s going to happen when the two weeks are over?”

  “It’s just a fling. When the two weeks are over, it’s over.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Is it?”

  “Yes,” I say. “It is.”

  * * *

  I wake up at four in the morning, Julian asleep beside me. This is my third night in his bed. The past two nights, I didn’t think about the future at all. I just focused on the present, on having great sex for the first time in years.

  Now, perhaps because of my conversation with Bethany, I think about what will happen at the end of next weekend. I told myself I deserve some fun, which is true, but I also told myself it would be easy to get over him, even if there were pesky feelings involved.

  I climb out of bed and head to his en suite washroom, where we’ve already had sex twice. When I make my way back through the dark bedroom, I trip on something and fall to the floor.

  “Ow,” I groan, but quietly, so I don’t wake Julian.

  I hurt my right foot on a piece of furniture; no big deal. Since it’s only my third night here, I don’t have the layout of the room perfectly memorized.

  I stay on the floor, wrap my hands around my foot, and rock back and forth. I’ll be okay. A minute or two, and the pain will subside.

  When I feel better, I hobble to the bed and get under the covers.

  It’s okay, I tell myself. You’ll be just fine.

  But I’m wide awake now.

  Twenty minutes later, I get up and head to the window. I look out at the cityscape before me. So many bright lights, so many people, and I’m all the way up here, with just my thoughts to keep me company.

  There’s a lump in my throat, and it’s suddenly painful to swallow. The view before me is pretty and I loved it when I first saw it, but in a way, it’s so, so sad. In a city of millions of people, there are so many of us who are alone. Although I’m not alone tonight, this is just a temporary break from reality.

  A few tears slide silently down my cheeks.

  As the years go by, I’ll watch things happen to those around me but stay apart from it all. I know this is how it has to be. I’ve known for a while; it’s nothing new. But I can’t lie to myself. Sometimes I fantasize that Julian and I could have more than a couple weeks together.

  Impossible fantasies.

  I can’t keep waking up in his bed and cuddling with him before I start my day. I need to preserve a little distance so those feelings don’t become more than they already are.

  I take one more look at Julian before walking back to the guest room and climbing into the bed I haven’t used for a few nights.

  I can’t have the same things as other people.

  Sure, I can have a job, I can enjoy gingerbread lattes, and I can be a decent friend—as long as I don’t subject my friends to the darkness inside me—but...

  God, why do I have to be so stupid?

  I couldn’t finish university on the first try.

  And will I really be able to hold onto this job, or am I destined to fuck that up, too?

  I can see the next year laid out clearly before me. I see the lows I will reach...except I don’t see the bottom of them, don’t know exactly how low I will go. It’s fucking terrifying.

  I know I’ll lose interest in the world around me, including my research. But I can’t see exactly how much gray fog I’ll be pushing through, or how dead I’ll feel inside, or how impossibly heavy my chest will feel when I try to breathe.

  It could be worse than last time.

  That’s the thing about life. It can always get worse.

  More tears build up behind my eyes, but I feel too disconnected to actually cry. I want to cry, because when I’m in this state, my best hope of sleeping is exhausting myself from crying. There have been weeks when I cried myself to sleep every night, and there have been weeks when I was too numb to cry but desperately wanted to.

  Finally, the tears fall, and finally, I sleep.

  * * *

  When I wake up on Saturday morning, there’s still a heavy pressure in my chest. My right foot is okay, though. When I press on it, there’s a bit of pain, but if you press on anything hard enough, there’s going to be pain.

  I don’t want to get up and face the day. I don’t want to fake a smile for Julian.

  It’s only seven o’clock. I can stay in bed for a while.

  I force myself to take a few deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Unlike last night, my thoughts aren’t spiraling out of control. Later, I’ll call Naomi. That will be good for me. A nice walk will be good for me, too, as will brushing my teeth, taking a shower, and putting on a cute outfit. Today isn’t going to be a great day, but I should be able to stop it from being a truly awful day with a little self-care. It would be better if I were at my apartment, because then I wouldn’t have to worry about Julian, though at the same time, it’ll be good for me to socialize.

  I think tripping on Julian’s dresser last night was what set me off. Sometimes the stupidest things get to me, like trying to turn on my laptop and discovering the battery is dead. That’s made me cry inconsolably before.

  And yet when my grandmother died last year, I was okay. I mean, I was sad and bereaved, and I knew that feeling would last a while, but somehow it felt bearable.

  I am a freak.

  Shh, I tell myself. You’re okay.

  The morning light filters in through the blinds. Sometimes that would make me smile, but not today. Maybe tomorrow. It’s August, and my once-every-five-years episodes of depression usually don’t begin until late September or October, so I should still have several more good weeks, punctuated by the occasional bad day.

  “Courtney?” It’s Julian. He’s standing in the doorway, frowning. “Why are you in the guest room?”

  It’s early and my brain isn’t functional enough to come up with a compelling lie. “I wasn’t feeling great, so I came here in the middle of the night.”

  “Are you coming down with something? Do you have a fever? A sore throat?” His eyebrows knit together, and his concern is touching. “Do you need to go to the doctor?”

  I sit up and shake my head. “No fever or anything. I’m just...not feeling great.”

  I wait for him to ask for clarification. He opens his mouth, then shuts it. Opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Julian likes answers, and he likes to fix problems.

  But he doesn’t ask, perhaps sensing I don’t want to talk about it. Instead, he crawls into bed with me and curls his body around me from behind.

  He’s just holding me, nothing more, and there’s something lovely about being held, especially by Julian. A person’s touch is so simple, yet it can mean so much. It won’t make last night go away, but it makes me feel a little better. A little less alone, even if it’s only temporary. I’m still tender and vulnerable, but I can feel myself getting stronger with each breath.

  “If you’d prefer to be by yourself, I can leave,” he says.

 
I burrow against him. “No, I want you to stay.”

  He holds me closer and wraps his leg over mine so I’m completely surrounded by him. It almost feels like he could make everything go away, make me whole again, turn me into a person who doesn’t fall to pieces because her laptop isn’t charged. Or because she tripped over a piece of furniture or knocked a pile of books off her desk. Even Julian Fong is not that powerful, but he’s still good for my mental health right now, and I’ll take what he’s giving me.

  He’s also getting aroused.

  “Ignore that,” he says when I rub back against him. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it when I’m with you. We certainly don’t need to do anything now.” He pauses. “How about I make you breakfast in bed? What would you like?”

  I almost feel like crying, but it’s different from last night. He’s so sweet to me.

  “I liked your eggs and bacon last weekend,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice from cracking. “But don’t go. Not yet.”

  We stay curled up in bed for a few more minutes before I let him prepare breakfast for me. The kitchen is a long way from the bedrooms, so I don’t smell the bacon or hear the banging of pots and pans. I just relax into the mattress and try not to think too hard. Focus on my senses and not what’s going on in my poor brain. Elena has replaced the duvet cover since the last time I slept in this room. It’s pastel-colored with flowers, and it’s quite pretty. I run my fingers over it.

  Julian returns with a wooden tray that has little legs on the bottom. There’s a plate full of bacon and eggs and toast, as well as two lattes.

  “You have a special breakfast-in-bed tray?” I ask.

  “I have everything.”

  I laugh. “This is too much food for me.”

  “I know. You’re supposed to share.” He picks up a piece of bacon and holds it to my lips.

  I take a bite. “You make it crispy, not chewy. That’s the correct way to cook bacon but my sister disagrees.” I pick up another piece of bacon and start feeding it to Julian. I inhale sharply when he licks the salt and grease off my fingers. “Are we going to feed each other scrambled eggs like this, too?”

  He takes a piece of scrambled egg and holds it to my mouth. I laugh again before eating it. This is definitely the first time anyone has fed me scrambled eggs with their fingers. Actually, it’s the first time anyone has brought me breakfast in bed.

  Soon, we start using forks like normal people. Everything tastes good, but because I’m not quite myself right now, I don’t enjoy it as much as the breakfast he made me last weekend. Still, I’m enjoying it a little.

  When we’re finished eating, Julian puts the tray aside and we sit in bed with our lattes.

  “What would you like to do today?” he asks. “Anything you like. Anything at all.”

  “Paris?”

  “If you can take a few days off work—”

  I put a hand to his chest. “I forgot who I was talking to. That was a joke. What I really want is...”

  Chapter 18

  Julian

  I stare at the baby in the monster onesie. Five minutes ago, she was screaming like, well, a monster, but now she’s sleeping peacefully in Courtney’s arms.

  We’re in a townhome in the east end with Courtney’s family. There’s her brother, Jeremy, and his wife, Lydia, as well as her sister, Naomi, and Naomi’s boyfriend, Will. And Jeremy and Lydia’s baby.

  When I asked Courtney what she wanted to do today, she said she wanted to visit her baby niece. She didn’t expect me to go with her, but I offered to. I joked that if she left me alone, I’d probably end up going to the office. That’s not true, though. I just want to be by her side, since she seemed a bit off this morning.

  I don’t know much about babies. Neither of my brothers have children, and I only have two cousins, and they don’t have children, either. This baby is admittedly cute, and Courtney seems quite taken with her, so I’m glad we’re here because I like seeing Courtney smile.

  Now that Baby Heather is asleep, everyone’s attention turns to me.

  “So, you’re dating my sister,” Jeremy says.

  “Yes.” I keep it simple, rather than explaining the whole story. From what Courtney’s told me, her sister knows the details, but her brother doesn’t.

  “Be careful,” Will says. “He tried to punch me in the face for doing that.”

  Naomi gives Will a playful shove.

  “It’s interesting,” Jeremy muses. “Courtney hasn’t brought anyone to meet her family in a long time, and then suddenly she shows up with you. I know who you are, Julian.”

  That sounds ominous. I’m not sure what to say.

  “You’re a playboy,” Jeremy says. “Every week, you’ve got a new woman. You’re rich, so you can get away with treating women like crap. And now you want to fuck with my sister?”

  Oh boy.

  “Stop the overprotective brother routine.” Courtney glares at him.

  “Besides,” Naomi says, “you’ve got it wrong. Julian’s brother is the playboy who posed semi-nude in a calendar. Not him.”

  Jeremy frowns at this new piece of information. “Right.”

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I have every intention of treating your sister well and zero intention of posing nude in a calendar.”

  “You know what you should do?” Naomi says. “Since you have so much money...”

  “Naomi!” Courtney hisses.

  “You should take my sister to Paris.”

  “I offered,” I say.

  Naomi turns to Courtney. “Then why aren’t you in Paris right now?”

  “Because I can’t take a week off work with only one or two days’ notice.”

  Naomi groans. “You’re no fun.”

  “How about we go away next weekend?” I suggest. “You won’t have to miss work, or maybe an afternoon at the most.”

  “To Paris? No. The flight will consume almost the entire weekend—”

  “Not to Paris.” I consider the options. “Montreal?”

  “Yes!” Naomi says. “You should totally go to Montreal together. Julian, you should give her a credit card so she can buy a new wardrobe for the trip. Like in Pretty Woman. You should take advantage of your rich companion while you have him, Courtney. One more week until...” She puts her hand over her mouth.

  “One week until what?” Jeremy asks.

  Courtney gives Naomi a dirty look. “You weren’t supposed to say anything.”

  “What am I missing here?” Jeremy narrows his eyes at me.

  Well, this is going to be fun.

  Courtney bites her lip. “Julian’s family wanted him to take two weeks off work because he’s a stressed-out workaholic, and he hired me to be a companion of sorts for those two weeks. To teach him how to have fun.”

  “Is he paying you to be a prostitute?” Jeremy starts to stand up, but Lydia pulls him back down.

  “It’s not like that at all,” Courtney says. “I see why you’d think that, and Naomi’s mention of Pretty Woman probably didn’t help, and Julian and I, we did... But it’s not like that.”

  “I knew it,” Naomi says. “I knew the reason you hadn’t talked to me for a few days was because you were busy having sex.”

  Courtney’s cheeks turn red, and I can feel mine getting warm, too. I’m about to open my mouth to say something—although what would make this situation less awkward, I have no idea—when Heather starts wailing. For some reason, Courtney thrusts her into my arms, though of the six adults in this room, I must be the worst person to take care of a baby.

  “Shh.” I awkwardly pat Heather’s back. “Shh.”

  Courtney marches over to Jeremy. “Why do you have to play overprotective brother now, when I’m thirty-one? Where were you ten years ago, hmm? Where were you when I was...when I was...” She looks back at me. There must be something she doesn’t want to say in my presence. I debate leaving the room, but I also don’t want to leave her. Plus, I have a baby in my hands. “...when I really needed some
one else on my side? When Dad didn’t believe anything I said? You know he takes you seriously and listens to you more than me and Naomi. You could have helped then, but you didn’t. That was when I needed a big brother. That was the time to interfere in my life. Not now. I’m fine on my own now, and Julian treats me well. So, please. Just stop it. I don’t want to have to worry about what stupid thing you’re going to freak out about next.”

  The room is quiet except for Heather, who is crying softly. I bounce her up and down, and she seems to like that. She rubs her little hand all over my face.

  I don’t know what happened ten years ago, but I’m angry at Jeremy for not being there when Courtney needed him. If he doesn’t apologize, I’ll happily give him shit, too.

  He rests his elbows on his knees and looks down. “You’re right,” he says softly. “I think I’ve been trying to make up for it, but I can’t, and I’m sorry.”

  Courtney swallows. “Okay. That’s... Thank you for saying that.”

  He stands up and gives her a hug, and she squeezes him tight. He says something quietly in her ear. It sounds like, “It’ll be better this time.”

  Jeremy sits down, and Courtney cuddles up beside me. Nobody says anything for a minute, until Heather lets out a high-pitched scream and I realize I’ve stopped bouncing her.

  Lydia comes over to me. “I’ll take her. I think she needs to be changed.” She disappears upstairs with her daughter.

  “Well,” Naomi says as the tension in the room starts to dissipate. “What was I saying before? Courtney, I really think you two should go to Montreal together. Maybe Julian has a private jet you can take?”

  I stop myself from rolling my eyes. “I do not have a private jet. Terrible waste of money, and I’m not a billionaire. We’ll fly on Porter from the island airport. If that’s what Courtney wants.” I place my hand on her back. “What do you think?”

  She nods. “Sounds good. We can go Friday after work and come back Sunday evening.”

  “Excellent. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  I’ve been to Montreal many times before, but I’ve never been with Courtney, and that will be a completely different experience. A good way to end my two-week vacation. I start to think of all the places we can have sex in the hotel room, then remember I’m surrounded by her family, including her big brother.