Chapter 7 – The CEO and the Ghost of a Holiday
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Mara’s voice cracked so loudly over the phone that Natasha had to pull it away from her ear.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S YOUR NEW CEO?”
Natasha winced. “Can you please not scream? I’m in the break room.”
“I will scream until your eardrums turn to paper!” Mara was pacing—that much was obvious from the echoing thuds coming through the line. “Natasha—NAT—do you understand what kind of karma spiral you’ve fallen into? This is telenovela-level plot twist. This is—this is corporate fanfiction!”
“Mara, please.” Natasha rubbed her forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m already holding onto sanity with one pinky finger. I don’t need you shaking the branch.”
“Okay,” Mara breathed dramatically. “Start from the beginning. You saw his announcement?”
Natasha looked at the door to make sure no one walked in. “No. I saw him.”
“As in—Saw. Him. With your eyeballs?”
“Yes. It was annouced yesterday and...” Natasha shut her eyes again. “He walked through the lobby like he owned the world today. And then HR welcomed him. And then, he stared at me. Like he didn’t know whether to say hello or call security.”
“Oh. My. God.” Mara gasped between every word. “Natasha, this is not a coincidence. This is fate slapping you across the face.”
“It feels more like a complication slapping me.”
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing. Not a single word. He just stared and then walked into the conference room with the board.”
Mara made a distressed noise. “Nat, I swear, you are living a novella. A man you kissed on a yacht—your emotionally complicated beach romance—walks straight into your office as your CEO? I’d sue the universe for emotional whiplash.”
Natasha felt her heart pinch. “It’s not funny. He was angry at me, Mara. Really angry. I don’t think he wants anything to do with me.”
“Or,” Mara countered, “he might be avoiding a meltdown because the woman he kissed is now his employee and he doesn’t know how to function like a normal human.”
Natasha groaned. “Please. Don’t make this more dramatic.”
“I didn’t make this dramatic. LIFE DID.”
Before Natasha could respond, the break room door opened. Her blood froze.
Henrick stepped inside.
His presence filled the space instantly—calm, controlled, composed. Wearing a navy suit and a tie that made him look even more intimidating than he did on the yacht. The corporate version of him was all sharp lines and authority, as if everything about the beach had been packed away and sealed off.
His eyes went to her immediately.
Natasha felt her pulse stutter.
“Nat?” Mara’s voice chirped from the phone. “Who came in? Why are you quiet? Are you still alive? Nat—hello?”
Natasha panicked, fumbling for the button and ending the call so fast she nearly dropped the phone.
Henrick hesitated, hand still on the door. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
She forced a stiff smile. “You’re not interrupting.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. The silence stretched thin and tight.
Then Henrick shifted, stepping toward the coffee machine. “I didn’t know you worked here,” he said quietly.
Natasha’s throat tightened. “I didn’t know you worked anywhere near here.”
That pulled a faint reaction from him—a twitch of the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. But not neutral either.
He reached for the coffee pot. His sleeves were rolled slightly, revealing a glimpse of the arms she remembered feeling around her on the yacht. Natasha quickly looked away.
“Charm…” Henrick began, voice softer now. “—she’s fine.”
Natasha exhaled shakily. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath. “I’m glad.”
Another quiet beat.
“About that day…” Henrick paused. Natasha could see him wrestling internally—deciding how much to say. “I wasn’t fair to you.”
Her heart thumped once, hard. “You were scared. I understand.”
He nodded, but the tension in his jaw didn’t fully ease. “Still. I shouldn’t have yelled. Or walked away like that.”
The sincerity in his tone surprised her. It tugged at something in her chest she wasn’t prepared for.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You did what any parent would do.”
Henrick didn’t respond immediately. He poured coffee, the sound filling the silence.
Then he turned toward her fully. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… those eyes still held the quiet warmth she’d gotten lost in on the yacht.
“I didn’t plan for this,” he said.
Natasha swallowed. “Neither did I.”
Their gazes held longer than necessary. Something unspoken hung between them—heavy but unmistakably alive.
Until a sudden knock on the door shattered it.
“Sir? The board is ready for your next briefing,” a staff member said.
Henrick straightened immediately, slipping back into the role of CEO.
“Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment.”
He looked at Natasha once more, softer this time, almost apologetic.
“We’ll talk later,” he said.
Natasha nodded, though her pulse had gone completely out of rhythm.
Henrick left.
And Natasha felt like the air left with him.
The day unfolded like a carefully orchestrated torment.
Everywhere Natasha turned—elevators, hallways, meeting rooms—Henrick appeared.
Not deliberately. Not obviously. But enough that each encounter chipped away at her composure.
The first time, she was at her desk when her manager approached with a stack of files.
“These need updating ASAP. Mr. Solidad wants each department’s report by tomorrow.”
Natasha froze. “He wants them that soon?”
“Yes. He’s very hands-on. Apparently, he reviewed the entire corporate structure last night.”
Hands-on.
Of course he was.
The second encounter came when she walked into a department briefing. She hadn’t expected him to lead it.
Henrick stood at the head of the conference table, sleeves rolled again—why was that so distracting?—and speaking with calm authority.
When she entered late, his eyes flicked toward her. Just briefly. Just enough to make her cheeks warm.
She took the nearest seat, hoping to blend in.
No such luck.
During the meeting, he asked, “Ms. Ramos,what’s your view on the current workflow inefficiencies between marketing and admin?”
Her brain froze.
He remembered her name. Of course he would. He’d said it softly once—much too softly.
Natasha sat straighter. “Um—yes. The current structure creates delays because of overlapping approval layers. Streamlining might help distribute responsibilities more efficiently.”
Henrick nodded slowly, eyes holding hers a second longer than necessary. “Good insight.”
Natasha’s stomach fluttered—and dropped at the same time.
Mara was right. This was emotional whiplash.
The third encounter happened late afternoon.
Natasha stepped into the elevator. The doors were almost closed when someone stopped them with an arm.
Henrick.
Of course.
He stepped inside, the doors sliding shut behind him, sealing them in the quiet space. The elevator hummed softly as it began to rise.
Natasha stared at the floor numbers like they were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.
“Long day?” Henrick asked gently.
She nodded without looking at him. “A bit.”
He shifted, turning toward her. “Natasha.”
Her heart clenched at the sound of her name in his voice.
Finally, she looked up.
Henrick searched her face with an expression she couldn’t interpret—part regret, part longing, part something he didn’t want to show.
“I didn’t intend for things to be this… awkward,” he said quietly.
“Me neither.”
The elevator slowed. Their floor approached.
Henrick exhaled softly. “I’d like to talk. Properly this time. No misunderstandings. No interruptions.”
The doors opened.
Natasha stepped out, heart pounding. “Okay.”
Henrick stayed inside the elevator.
“After work?” he asked.
She hesitated.
Henrick’s eyes softened. “Just to talk.”
After a long beat, she nodded. “Okay. After work.”
The doors slid shut, leaving Natasha standing alone in the hallway, pulse racing.
Mara practically combusted when Natasha called her during lunch break.
“YOU ARE GOING TO TALK TO HIM? LIKE—TALK TALK? AFTER WORK? ALONE??”
“Mara—please.” Natasha pressed a hand to her forehead. “Don’t make me faint.”
“He remembers your name! And he asked you a question in a meeting! Girl, he either wants to fix things or he’s in love with you. Those are the only options.”
Natasha sputtered. “He is NOT in love with me. Mara—stop. That’s insane.”
“Insanely accurate.”
“Mara—”
“Fine, fine,” Mara grumbled. “But you’re going. And you’re going to breathe. And you’re going to listen. And not panic.”
“Too late for the last part.”
Mara sighed dramatically. “Nat… whatever he says, whatever happens—it’s better than the silence you’ve been suffering through.”
Natasha’s chest tightened.
Her friend was right.
She needed clarity. Answers. Closure.
Something.
And tonight… she would finally get it.
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