I Left My Earring, He’s My CEO

Chapter 2: Dirty Little Secrets

The moment the staff meeting was dismissed, I practically sprinted to the nearest women's restroom, locked myself in a handicap stall, and aggressively dry-heaved over the toilet.

My hands were shaking so violently I could barely grip the edges of the porcelain sink when I finally stood up to splash cold water on my face. I stared at my pale, terrified reflection in the mirror.

Harvey Bass.

The man I had given my virginity to—the man whose back I had scratched up in a fit of wild passion—was the ruthless billionaire who now held my entire career in the palm of his hand.

"Deny everything," I whispered to my reflection, my voice trembling. "Play dumb. Total amnesia. You've never seen him before in your life. The earring is a coincidence. Lots of people have vintage pearl earrings."

It was a flimsy, pathetic plan, but it was the only one I had. If word got out that a lowly junior designer had slept with the CEO before he even took office, I wouldn't just be fired; I'd be blacklisted from the jewelry design industry forever. Blair would make sure of it.

I took a deep breath, smoothed down my frumpy beige blazer, and marched back to the design department.

I barely had time to sit down before my desk phone rang. It was practically shrieking. I picked it up, my palm sweating against the plastic.

"Jennifer Morris?" the crisp, professional voice of the executive assistant echoed through the line. "Mr. Bass would like to see you in his office. Immediately."

My heart stopped. "Me? Are... are you sure he didn't mean Blair Pierce? The Design Director?"

"He specifically asked for Jennifer Morris. Top floor. Don't keep him waiting."

The line went dead.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt like a slow descent into a grave. When the silver doors slid open, I was greeted by the imposing mahogany double doors of the CEO's suite. I swallowed hard, raised a trembling fist, and knocked.

"Enter," a deep, velvet voice commanded.

I pushed the door open. The executive suite was massive, with panoramic windows overlooking the city skyline. Harvey Bass was sitting behind a sleek, black marble desk. He had discarded his suit jacket, and his crisp white dress shirt was rolled up at the forearms, revealing the thick, muscular forearms I had desperately clung to the night before.

He didn't look up from the paperwork he was signing. "Close the door, Miss Morris. And lock it."

I froze. "I... I don't think locking the door is necessary, Mr. Bass. I'm just here to—"

His dark eyes snapped up, pinning me in place. The sheer intensity of his gaze made my knees weak. "Lock it."

Trembling, I reached behind me and turned the heavy brass deadbolt. The loud click echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room.

I took a few tentative steps forward, clutching my hands tightly in front of my stomach. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Harvey slowly set his luxury fountain pen down. He leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers as his eyes dragged slowly, deliberately, over my conservative outfit. His lips curled into a mocking smirk.

"You clean up well, Jennifer," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "Though I have to admit, I prefer the black lace lingerie you were wearing last night. Or better yet... nothing at all."

My face burned hot enough to rival the sun, but I dug my fingernails into my palms and forced a blank, confused expression onto my face.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bass," I said, my voice remarkably steady. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I believe you have me confused with someone else."

Harvey didn't blink. He just stared at me for a long, agonizing moment before he stood up. He was terrifyingly tall. He walked around the desk, stalking toward me with the slow, calculated grace of a predator cornering a rabbit.

"Confused with someone else?" he repeated softly, stopping just inches away from me. The heat radiating off his body enveloped me, bringing with it that intoxicating scent of mint and cedarwood.

"Yes, sir," I lied, keeping my eyes fixed stubbornly on his silk tie. "I spent last night at home. Working on design drafts."

"Is that so?" Harvey's hand suddenly shot out, his long fingers wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard chest. I gasped, my hands flying up to rest against his solid muscles to keep from falling.

"Mr. Bass!" I hissed, looking around the office wildly. "You can't do this!"

"I own the building, Jennifer. I can do whatever I want," he whispered, dipping his head until his lips were brushing against the sensitive skin of my neck. I shivered involuntarily. "And you're a terrible liar."

"I don't know you!" I protested weakly, trying to push him away. He was immovable.

"You didn't know me when you let me take you against the wall of the VIP lounge elevator, either," he rasped, his breath hot against my collarbone.

"Stop," I breathed, my face flushing scarlet.

"You didn't know me when you wrapped those long legs around my waist," Harvey continued, his hand sliding slowly down my back, gripping the curve of my hip with a possessive strength that made my core ache. "Or when you begged me to go deeper. You were practically sobbing my name, Jennifer. 'Please, Harvey. Don't stop.'"

Hearing him repeat my dirty, desperate pleas from the night before in the middle of a corporate office made a wicked, shameful thrill shoot straight between my thighs.

"That wasn't me," I whimpered, my eyes fluttering shut as his nose nuzzled the spot just below my ear.

"Wasn't it?" Harvey chuckled, a dark, vibrating sound. "Then I suppose it wasn't you who has that tiny, faded birthmark right on the inside of your left thigh? The one I tasted for a solid twenty minutes?"

My eyes snapped open, mortification flooding my veins. He had me. There was no denying it anymore. The amnesia act was dead and buried.

"Why are you doing this?" I demanded, my voice cracking. "You're the CEO. You could have any supermodel in the city. I'm just a junior designer. Please, if anyone finds out, my career is over. Just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened."

Harvey's expression darkened instantly. His grip on my waist tightened to the point of pain. He backed me up until my hips hit the edge of his marble desk. He caged me in, placing a hand on the desk on either side of my body.

"We are not pretending anything didn't happen," he growled, his eyes blazing with a fierce, terrifying possessiveness. "You ran from my bed, Jennifer. No one runs from me. You are mine. And I'm going to make sure you remember exactly who you belong to."

He reached up, his thumb roughly tracing my lower lip. My breath hitched. He leaned in, his gaze fixed on my mouth, the air between us crackling with unbearable s****l tension. I could feel his hard arousal pressing against my stomach through our clothes.

He was going to kiss me. And heaven help me, I wanted him to.

His lips were a millimeter away from mine when a sharp, authoritative knock echoed on the office door.

We both froze.

"Mr. Bass?" a sickly-sweet, high-pitched voice called out from the hallway. "It's Blair Pierce. The Design Director. I brought those design portfolios you requested. And I took the liberty of bringing you an espresso."

It was Blair.

Panic seized my chest. If Blair walked in and saw me pinned against the CEO's desk with her boss fully aroused, she would destroy me before the hour was up.