DUMPED

CHAPTER FOUR

UNPLEASANT SURPRISE

CEICLY

"No, I don't," I stutter.

Why is he looking at me that way, like a piece of s**t? He didn't even spare me a proper good morning, let alone order us breakfast?

My eyes fix on his back as he walks towards the bedside drawer, his eyebrows pulled together. I get a glimpse of a stack of dollar notes, he pulls out. My stomach clenches.

How dare he think of paying me off like a w***e?

I won't let that happen.

I unzip my handbag, pulling out $240, all the cash I have left. Anything will do to save me from this shame.

I walk quietly to the bedside, brushing his shoulder, making him turn around to face me as I drop the notes. He looks at me, my wrinkled notes, then back at me, his frown tighter.

"And what is that?"

"Your service fee."

"My what?"

"Your fee," I say slowly this time, intentionally stressing my words like he's in kindergarten. "For your services last night." I fold my arms, forcing myself to look up at him.

There's a bit of silence.

"You're paying me?" he yells.

"But you were about to. Now we're even. There's no need for an awkward speech. We go back to being strangers, right?"

He's stone cold. Maybe I said more than necessary. But-

"For your performance last night," I flip my fingers, "fair but not up to standard. You could do better next time."

This strikes him hard; he turns red. "How dare you b***h?!"

I flinch at his outburst but regain my poise. I should leave before this man yanks me in two.

"It isn't that deep, Mr...

Oh! We didn't have a proper introduction. It doesn't matter anyway. It was good spending my free time with you." I touch his chin; he is boiling. Heaven knows what made me do that.

"We might have a next time. Maybe you'll impress me a little bit more," I wink.

"F**K! F**k OFF B**CH!" I hear him yell as I hurry my pace out, only catching my breath in the elevator. The craziest morning ever.

My feet feel unusually cold. I rub my hands against it, and only then do I realize I'm barefoot.

I didn't leave my flats in that man's room, did I?

Shit! I could swear I was composed in there.

*****

"Hi, Ceec," Rosie, my office bestie and desk mate, chuckles as I walk in. "Great, you look good for the occasion," her grin widens.

Occasion? What occasion, Rosie?" She always seems to have the office tea first.

"Wait, what. Didn't you know?" she gives me a pathetic look.

A lot has been on my plate lately. I'm surprised Rosie hasn't said a word about my failed wedding. Apparently, she went to Paris for her honeymoon. Perhaps she'll figure it out later.

"Just spill already, Rosie."

"My goodness, Ceec. Let's save your ass. We will be having a meeting with the new sexy CEO in a few minutes from now."

A new CEO? I had no idea.

Sexy?

"Aren't you married, Rosie?"

"Never said I wasn't," she rolls her eyes. "But I ain't blind."

"Ladies, to the board room now." The director announces, putting his head through a little opening in the door, then walks away.

"I think you'll need a little more lipstick on, Ceec," Rosie says, proceeding to apply some on my lip before I could protest.

*****

The 19th-floor boardroom is the same as usual. A large marble table between fifty board members, facing each other.

The chair at the head of the table is empty, waiting for its new owner.

My eyes meet Rosie's, and she winks. I can't help but marvel at her excitement as she makes funny faces at me, wanting a smile. I roll my eyes and look away, my mind trailing to something sensibly funny, the look of shame on Prince Charming's face earlier. I'm sure he never met my kind, and I hope he learnt his lesson. All girls aren't desperate.

But why do I still yearn for his touch?

He is a jerk, but also a demon in a good way.

The sound of applause and the moving of chairs as others rise draws me back to reality.

Is this a prank?

My brain short-circuits as he walks in, taking his position at the head of the table. I look closer this time.

It's him, the stranger from last night.

He is wearing a black suit and looks even more handsome.

He looks up, our eyes meet, and I can feel the floor tilt beneath my heels.

Does he remember? What if he does? What if he says something? What if I lose my job?

My head spirals.

But his expression doesn't change, his gaze slides past me. He doesn't remember, or maybe he does but doesn't care. I feel cold between my ribs, and my palm is wet with sweat.

"Ceec," Rosie places her hand on my elbow, steering me to a seat. "You're staring," she whispers. Only then do I realize I'm the only one left standing. I sit slowly, conscious of the eyes on me, especially his.

The meeting begins as he introduces himself.

"I'm Eliott Sanchez, as you've all been informed.

I look forward to working...with you all," was all I heard, then spiraled again. Regaining focus when Anessar, the social butterfly, asked a question about synergy and fiscal responsibility, which he answered. Halfway through, his eyes sweep the room, stopping at me. My gut tightens.

"Ms. Baxter," he says, reading my name off the seating chart in front of me. "Stay behind after the meeting? I want a brief walkthrough of your team's current workflow, that of the Northeast Medical Supply, after this meeting."

Goodness! Northeast Medical Supply? The one I have been losing sleep over.

The warehouse data is messy, always with impossible deadlines and weird-ass clients who keep changing their minds. Haven't checked that for a few days; heaven knows what the report would likely look like at the moment. My team of five, Rosie included, hasn't said anything impressive either, but somehow, as the senior analyst, I'm more at risk than they are. And now, a one-on-one meeting with the new CEO, the man who had seen me naked, wanted a work-through?

My eyes meet Maya, one of my team members. She has a - what the hell is this about look. Tom's eyebrow is raised. Derek, my work rival, looks openly pleased, probably hoping I'd stumble, and then Rosie, the excited rat.

Margaret, my department head, looks unfazed. She probably thinks this is a fast-track opportunity for the team.

She has no idea.

Breathe Ceicly, breathe.

"Of course...Mr. Lancaster." I say his name softly. Perfectly professional.

The meeting continues, but my mind keeps racing through what I'll have to show him:

The three different routing scenarios I didn't stress-test,

Tom's half-finished cost analysis still has placeholder numbers,

Derek's passive-aggressive notes in the margins of every shared document. The worst fear of them all, he remembers me, and maybe I'll have to start job hunting too.

Every time his gaze meets mine, which is more often than he probably intends, my pulse rate increases.

I should text Tom to stop staring like a clown and start getting productive before the meeting ends. Instead, I sit there faki

ng smiles and nodding stupidly as the countdown begins till I have to stand before Mr. CEO, the Alpha, miraculously defend myself and my team, plead for his mercy, or even worse, get kicked out.