THE CEO'S SECRET

Chapter 1 As I sat in the back of the car, watching the city lights blur past, I couldn’t shake the heaviness in my chest. A week ago, Aunty Beatrice called me. I wasn’t expecting it, nor was I ready for what she said. My father, Edward Blackwood had suffered a stroke, and now he is in a vegetative state. The news felt distant, like it was happening to someone else’s family, but deep down, I knew this was my reality. I didn’t expect to be going back home so soon. I had sworn never to return after everything that happened, not until he was gone for good. But here I was, being driven back to the Blackwood estate. I thought about my father, the man I once admired. I used to look up to him, respected him for what he’d built, for his power and wealth. But that all shattered the day I came home from visiting my mother at the hospital. I was just 21 years old at that time. I’ll never forget the image of him with another woman in his arms, in our house, while my mother was fighting for her life against cancer. The disgust I felt that day never left me. As soon as she died, I packed my bags and left for business school in France, swearing I’d never look back. As we neared the mansion, I felt a tightness in my chest. “Stop the car,” I said to the driver. He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, confused but obedient. He pulled over, and I quickly got out, the cold night air hitting my face. I wasn’t ready to see him, to walk into that house and confront all the memories waiting for me. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a cigar. I lit it, the familiar taste of tobacco filling my mouth, and took a slow drag, letting the smoke drift into the cool evening air. I stood there for a moment, just taking in my surroundings. The town wasn’t the same anymore. It wasn’t just the buildings or the streets, it was the feeling. The place I had grown up in, the town that once felt alive with my childhood memories, now seemed distant, almost unfamiliar. I took another drag of my cigar and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke twist and curl in the air. The driver looked at me expectantly, probably thinking I was about to give the signal to head home, but I needed more time. "Take me to a hotel," I said, flicking the cigar ash to the ground. I needed something to clear my head before going back to the mansion, back to face the man who had broken everything I once admired about him. I checked into the hotel and then went straight to the hotel bar to get a drink. I found a seat in the back corner, away from everyone. I needed solitude. That was when I saw her. She was sitted at the bar by herself. She looked out of place here. There was something about the way she sat, like she was carrying the weight of the world. I could see it in the way she moved, the way she held her drink like it was the only thing keeping her anchored. I don’t know what made me approach her. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the loneliness that mirrored my own. I found myself drawn to her. I took a seat next to her, ordering another drink just to have an excuse to stay. “So, what brings you to town?” I asked, leaning in a little closer. She glanced at me, her eyes searching, as if deciding how much to say. “Just dealing with some family stuff,” she finally said. Her tone was vague, but I didn’t press. I knew all too well how complicated a family could be. “Yeah, family can be tough,” I replied, nodding. I couldn’t help but let a bit of my own pain slip through. She didn’t need to know the details, but there was an unspoken understanding. We talked a bit more, nothing deep, just enough to break the silence. There was no need for grand confessions. We were both just two people trying to forget for a little while. It didn’t take long for the attraction between us to grow, the unspoken tension pulling us closer. Before I knew it, we were leaving the bar together. I led her to my hotel suite. As soon as I shut the door behind us. I drew her in for a passionate kiss, she kissed me back, the kiss started softly, and then it quickly turned deeper, as if we were both hungry for more. Damn! She tasted so good. I could feel her body respond, and it makes my heart race. My hands find their way to her waist, drawing her closer, feeling the heat radiating between us. There’s something intoxicating about the way she moves, the way she kissed me back with equal passion. I picked her up, still kissing her, our kiss sloppy and wet now. I carried her and walked to the center of the room where I placed her gently in the middle of the bed. In a flash, our clothes were. Now completely naked, I took in the sight before me, she looked perfect, I felt myself lost in her beauty, she bit her lower lips as she stared at my naked body, I felt blood rush down to my manhood, as it hardened to her lustful stare. I couldn't help but lose myself in her eyes. I leaned down, kissing along her neckline, down to her breast, I sucked at her n*****s and traced hot, wet kisses down to her navel. She heard her gasp and whimper beneath me. She pulled me back up into a passionate kiss, as our tongues slide in and out, exploring the inside of each other's mouth. I positioned myself between her legs, I stroked her entrance with my c**k, making her moan out with pure desire. I thrust myself into her slowly, enjoying the fill of her hot p***y around my c**k. Her breathless whimpers sent me over the edge. I continued to thrust into her erratically. The only sound that filled the room were our breathless pants and moans as we made love passionately. It felt like we were in our own little world, wrapped in a bubble of warmth and desire. In that moment, all thoughts of my father’s condition and the heavy mantle of responsibility vanished. I found solace in the arms of a strange woman. In her embrace, I was free, if only for a fleeting moment, from the weight of my world. It was the most amazing feeling. -------- When I woke up the next morning, the sun was barely peeking through the curtains. I reached for her but the bed beside me was empty. She was gone. I blinked against the soft morning light, the memories of last night flooding back into my mind. We had shared something intense and almost magical, the connection we had felt real, and that scared me. For a moment, I wondered if it had all been a dream, but then I saw the note on the bedside table. It read, “I’m sorry, Dominic.” I frowned, staring at the note. How did she know my name? I hadn’t told her who I was. In fact, I hadn’t told her much of anything at all. My mind raced, trying to piece it together. Who was she, and how did she know who I am?