Mr. Hotshot CEO Read online

  I cry silent tears into the night.

  * * *

  The next morning is our last in Montreal. We wake up around eight, both still naked after last night’s activities, and we simply hold each other. I try to enjoy this while it lasts, but maybe I should start extricating myself. Maybe it’ll be less painful if I start putting some distance between us now.

  I start to slither out of Julian’s embrace, but he holds me still.

  “I have something to ask you,” he says.

  “Okay.” He’ll ask me his question, and then I’ll get up and have my shower.

  But when I look into his eyes, I can tell it’s something big.

  “I don’t want this to end,” he says.

  Neither do I! Neither do I!

  “I like you a lot, Courtney. When I first came up to you in the coffee shop, you were savoring your gingerbread latte...” He scrubs a hand over his face, and I realize he’s nervous. It’s not like him, and it melts my heart, which is bouncing around in my chest like mad. “I wanted to pay you five thousand dollars to teach me to enjoy life, and I suggested we could have a fling, too.” He chuckles. “It sounds crazy, doesn’t it? But now that I’ve gotten to know you, I want more than a fling.”

  I can’t contain my goofy smile.

  “I told you I didn’t do relationships anymore,” he says. “I suck at them because I’m at the office all the time. However, you make me want to try again, and after the last two weeks, I think I’ve changed. I’ll be less of a workaholic come Monday morning, and I’ll spend as much time with you as I can.”

  It’s everything I could ask for.

  “Yes,” I say. “I don’t want this to end, either.”

  He grins. “I’ll still give you the money, of course. What are you going to do with it?”

  “Give it to Naomi. It was perfect timing, actually. She’d just told me she couldn’t afford the trip to New York we’d planned, and later that day, you showed up and offered me your ridiculous deal. So now we can go on the trip, and she can have a little extra money...and I can have you.”

  Julian proceeds to kiss me very, very thoroughly, then offers to solve any financial problems I might have in the future.

  * * *

  I should be happy, but when we’re on the plane back to Toronto, I feel a prickle of doubt.

  My depression is returning. Every five years.

  It’s hard to imagine that my life will get so terrible so soon, when things have been pretty good recently, aside from the occasional meltdown. But my depression is inevitable, like the changing seasons. Even Julian, as powerful as he is, won’t be able to stop it, and I can’t imagine he’ll want to be with me when he sees what it’s really like. I won’t be Fun Courtney who squeals in delight over fancy pastries. I assume a lot of the reason he likes me is because of the joy I take in the world around me, but when I’m depressed, that becomes impossible. Sure, he was lovely to me when I had my “depression attack” a few days ago, but once that becomes a constant state for me, it’ll be different.

  Dane couldn’t handle it, and we’d already been together for a while at that point. I can’t imagine Julian will enjoy it when his new girlfriend becomes a dark cloud of messed-up thoughts who can barely make it out of bed—and not because she wants to have sex all the time.

  That’s another thing. Depression kills my libido.

  I feel more than a prickle of doubt now; I’m being smacked in the face with it.

  How can this possibly work?

  I’ll go out with him for a little while, and then he’ll dump me and break my heart, and it will be just like ten years ago. I’ll have to go on leave from my job and I’ll stop sleeping and I’ll be such a bother to Naomi but she’ll do it because she loves me, and...

  Julian places a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? You’ve been reading the same page for ten minutes.”

  “I’m fine.”

  I must not sound very convincing.

  “What is it?” he asks, rubbing circles on my shoulder with his thumb.

  He’s a sweet man. You wouldn’t think the CEO of an investment company would be sweet, but he is.

  I swallow. “My depression. I told you how I have a severe episode every five years, right? It’ll start soon. It always starts in the fall. I’ll become difficult to be around, and you won’t want to be with me anymore. Like my ex.”

  “Not true. I’ll want to be with you no matter what. I care for you, and I will be there.”

  He says it with such conviction. I offer him a small smile, but I’m not convinced. I’m not the sort of girlfriend a man like Julian should have. He needs someone who’s less of a mess. Someone who will look stunning on his arm at charity galas and always know the right thing to say.

  Even if I’m able to have a boyfriend, he’s probably not the type of boyfriend I should have, either. He’s always busy. He says he’s different now, but maybe that just means he’ll work thirteen-hour days instead of fourteen. Could he really be supportive when he’s working his ass off?

  I have doubts. I have so many doubts. But I shove them aside.

  Because I want, more than anything, to be with Julian, and I’m feeling a bit delusional at the moment. I feel like believing when I shouldn’t believe.

  He’s become an important part of my life; he means so much to me now. Being without him is too painful to contemplate. I don’t have a choice.

  I might be on a sinking ship, but there’s nowhere else for me to go.

  Chapter 24

  Julian

  I walk into work nice and early on Monday morning. Fortunately, the lock on my office door hasn’t been changed, as Po Po threatened to do, and I’m at my desk by seven.

  It feels good to be back. I’m itching to get some work done and make sure everything hasn’t gone to shit in my absence. I don’t think it has, but doubtless there will be fires to put out.

  However, I’ve only answered one email when Vince swaggers into my office.

  “Just checking that you made it back to the office after your holiday,” he says.

  “I’m here and I’m working. Or, rather, I would be working if you hadn’t interrupted.”

  “That’s what I do best.”

  “It is, though I’m surprised you’re awake at seven fifteen in the morning.”

  He shrugs. “Haven’t gone to bed yet.”

  I look at my brother, really look at him for once. His clothes are loose, and there are dark circles under his eyes, and his cocky smile is a little strained.

  I get up from my desk and walk over to him. “Are you okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’ve been up all night doing hookers and drugs. I just need a few hours of sleep, that’s all.”

  There are some brown stains at the bottom of his T-shirt. I won’t ask.

  But I’ll ask about something else.

  “Do you have a drug problem? Should I be concerned?”

  With Vince, I no longer know what’s real and what’s a joke. I know he parties, and he always seems to have a different woman—based on his Facebook pictures—but a lot of the things he says have to be an exaggeration.

  Or are they? I couldn’t say.

  And then there’s the way he keeps showing up at my condo and office, as though he’s desperate for company.

  Vince rolls his eyes. “I smoke pot on occasion. You gonna tell Mom? You gonna make me to go to rehab?”

  “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with the occasional joint. Just don’t hotbox my office.”

  “Thanks for the great idea. I’m surprised you know what hotboxing is, to be honest.”

  Okay, this conversation has gotten off-track.

  I take a deep breath. “Something isn’t right with you, and I want to know what it is.”

  “Why?” Vince folds his arms over his chest.

  I frown. “Because you’re my brother and I...care about you.”

  It’s hard to say those words to Vince. This is not the kind of relati
onship we have. But it’s suddenly obvious that although I think of him as a partying playboy, it’s far from the whole truth.

  He lets out a bark of laughter. “Your girlfriend’s turned you into Mr. Touchy-Feely.”

  Well, I certainly do a lot of touching with her, that’s for sure.

  “Just to clarify, she actually is my girlfriend now.” I smile. I can’t help it.

  “I look forward to seeing a scrapbook of the first month of your relationship.”

  “Back to you. Are you—”

  “Julian!” Priya barges into my office, carrying a double espresso. “How was your vacation?”

  “You didn’t need to come in at seven thirty,” I say, annoyed at the interruption.

  “It’s your first day back. Don’t worry, I won’t be here until eight tomorrow. You have my word.” She hands me the espresso.

  “His vacation was great,” Vince says, apparently deciding I’m incapable of answering. He’s probably relieved our conversation was cut short. “He got himself a girlfriend.”

  “Really?” Priya says. “That’s fantastic. What’s her name?”

  “Courtney,” Vince replies before I can say anything. “She bought him a cactus shaped like a penis!”

  I put my head in my heads. “Dear God. Why do you need to be like this?”

  “Is it true?” Priya asks. “About the cactus?”

  “Well, I paid for the cactus, but she told me to do it. It’s true that Joey is rather phallic-shaped, although...” I trail off as I realize my mistake.

  Priya tilts her head. “Joey? The cactus has a name?”

  Vince claps me on the back. “Good going, dude.” He turns to Priya. “They’re going to take scrapbooking lessons together! I wonder what else. Maybe salsa classes?”

  “Look,” I say, “I haven’t been at work in more than two weeks, and I have a lot to do. Could you please go somewhere else to discuss my love life?”

  Just then, my father walks into the room. “I heard about this love life of yours. Your mother seems quite taken with your new woman, although apparently you claim she isn’t really your girlfriend.”

  “You haven’t heard the news,” Vince says. “They’re officially going out now. Oh, this is so exciting!” He squeals like a preteen girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

  “Vince.” Dad gives him a look. “What’s wrong with you? Are you on drugs?”

  “Nothing more than the occasional joint,” he says cheerfully.

  Vince and I need to have a proper conversation later when I’m not at work, though it’s practically impossible to have a proper conversation with him these days.

  “Right,” Dad says. “Of course.”

  My father is a very successful businessman, with a presence to match, but he’s actually rather soft-spoken. Yet when he talks, people listen.

  Except for me and my brothers. We rarely listened when we were young, but now, I value my father’s opinion, and he needs to get me up to speed on what’s happened in the past two weeks.

  “Alright,” I say. “Vince, Priya, party’s over. Vince, go home and sleep.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  I gesture to the door. “Out. We have work to do.”

  They finally retreat.

  I sit down behind my desk, and Dad takes the seat across from me.

  “How do you like being back in the office?” I ask him.

  “It’s a nice change. Playing golf every day gets boring after a while.” He pauses. “How was your vacation, aside from the getting-a-girlfriend part?”

  I can’t separate Courtney from my vacation. She was an important part of it.

  But I haven’t had a headache in more than a week, I’ve been sleeping better, and I’m not nearly as tense. I feel well-rested and re-energized. Ready to take on the world.

  “I hate to admit I was wrong,” I say, “but I was. I did need a holiday. And I also learned a thing or two about work-life balance.”

  Dad chuckles. “It’s important. Now, when am I going to meet your new girlfriend?”

  “Soon,” I promise.

  * * *

  I don’t see Courtney on Monday or Tuesday. She wants to spend a few nights in her apartment, and I’m working my usual days—thirteen hours or more. I tell myself I won’t keep this up and it’s just because I’ve been away for more than two weeks. Plus, our text messages provide a nice distraction.

  On Wednesday, I leave work at six thirty, and she comes to my place for dinner. Takeout this time, rather than a three-course meal I cooked from scratch. She smiles and talks about her day, telling me briefly about her experiments and the antics of her friend Bethany’s toddler.

  Still, I have this feeling, like when we were on Mont Royal and the sky darkened, that something bad is coming. Except when we were in Montreal, nothing bad ended up happening. It rained, we kissed, and I realized I love her. That’s all.

  Nothing bad will happen now, either. I asked her to be with me, and she said yes. Life is good.

  I haven’t told Courtney I love her. I think it’s a little early to say it out loud, so I settle for sending her long strings of heart emojis instead.

  But I’ll tell her soon.

  Chapter 25

  Courtney

  I don’t see Julian on Thursday or Friday, since he’s slammed with work. He goes to work on Saturday, too, but I meet him at a restaurant in Chinatown for dinner—Chinatown on Spadina, not Chinatown East near where I live. Afterward, he shows me where his grandparents’ bakery on Elizabeth Street used to be, in what is now Nathan Phillips Square. In the northwest corner of the square are two plaques about Toronto’s original Chinatown.

  I feel silly for not having known about this, but my family didn’t immigrate here until the eighties. Most of my school friends’ families came over around the same time, before the Chinese takeover of Hong Kong. But there were Chinese people in Toronto long before that.

  “You know what I’m craving?” I say. “A pineapple bun. Let’s buy some on the way back to your place.”

  “Actually...” He looks down at the plaques. “I have to go back to the office for an hour.”

  “You were already there for ten hours. And it’s Saturday.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, but I didn’t get to finish everything before our dinner date. You go back to my place, and I’ll meet you there soon.”

  “Okay,” I say, feeling a bit deflated.

  When he arrives home from work, it’s nine o’clock, and we watch a movie before going to bed. Sunday, he doesn’t work at all, aside from sending a few emails in the morning, and we spend the day together.

  It’s good. I can’t complain.

  * * *

  Once again, I don’t see Julian on Monday or Tuesday, but on Wednesday, I decide to take an extra-long lunch break and surprise him at work. I stop in Chinatown to buy soup dumplings and pineapple buns, then head up to his office.

  I’ve never been here before. The office is buzzing with activity, lots of people in suits rushing around.

  “I’m here to see Julian Fong,” I tell the receptionist.

  She raises an eyebrow. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Um, no.” I pause. “I’m his girlfriend.”

  “I see,” she says, as though she doesn’t see at all and thinks I’m full of shit. “I’ll call his assistant. What’s your name?”

  “Courtney,” I squeak.

  The receptionist leads me to Julian’s assistant, Priya, who gives me a much warmer greeting.

  “I’ve heard so much about you,” she says.

  “You have?” What on earth has Julian been telling her?

  “Not really. But I know of your existence, which is saying something.”

  “I brought him lunch.” I hold up the white plastic bag with my purchases.

  Her face falls. “I’m sorry. He’s in a lunch meeting.”

  Right. People like Julian Fong have things like lunch meetings. He doesn’t need me to bring him food.

 
I look at the bag, then turn back to Priya. “Want some soup dumplings?”

  One of the delicate dumplings broke on my trip to Fong Investments, but otherwise, they’re good. Priya has never had soup dumplings before, but she likes them. We split a pineapple bun, and I save the other for Julian. At first, I’m a little jealous of this young, attractive woman who works with Julian all day. However, it soon becomes clear that although she’s fond of him, it’s not like that. In fact, it sounds like she thinks of him as an older brother, and when she mentions her boyfriend, the last prickle of doubt I had is erased.

  “Next time,” she says, “you should call me first, and I’ll let you know if he’s available.”

  Julian strides in a little after one o’clock. He stops when he sees me by Priya’s desk.

  “Courtney?” he says, like he’s not sure it’s actually me, like he’s confused to see me in this part of his life.

  I jump up. “I, um, brought you lunch, but Priya told me you had a lunch meeting, so we shared the soup dumplings, and...here.” I thrust a paper bag toward him. “Here’s your pineapple bun.”

  My boyfriend is wearing a pinstripe suit, and I’m wearing the casual clothes I usually wear to the lab. He smiles at me. “I think I have three minutes until my next meeting.”

  I can’t help feeling disappointed. I came all this way to see him, waited half an hour, gave away his dumplings, and now he only has three minutes for me.

  But really, it’s my fault for not calling first.

  He ushers me into his office, and as soon as he closes the door, his mouth is on mine.

  Yes, that’s better.

  He pulls back and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “You taste like pineapple bun. Not that I’m complaining.”

  I look around his office. It’s large and the furniture and art on the walls look quite expensive.

  I don’t belong here.

  I put my arms around him because at least I feel like I belong when I’m holding him.

  “Sorry I don’t have more time,” he says. “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s fine. I just thought I’d surprise you at work.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “I have a present for you.” I pull out a flash drive. “I won’t tell you what’s on it. You’ll have to look for yourself once I’ve left.