She’s the CEO

She's Haunting Him

Maximus

Three months later after the hospital visit…

MY BODY FLIES off the bed. Groaning, I hold my head my hands, sweat dripping down my neck. Every night. Every. f*****g. Night.

It’s a whole new year and she’s still in my mind. I haven't slept in three months. Can't. My mind likes to harp on things, see. Especially things pertaining to her.

Sometimes, I wish I'd killed her myself. I'd rather feel guilt than helplessness. She haunts me. I don't know who gave her that right.

I know I didn't. I never gave her permission to consume me, never gave her any indication that she belongs in my mind, yet here she is.

And for what? We weren't together. We never f****d. We didn't even hangout. I saw her twice.

Twice.

It's not cause she died either. No, it's not that. I entertain the notion of going to sleep once more, but I know what I'll see.

Her limp body, her face still wet with tears.

Babies crying.

That incessant single beep.

Shouting.

Yelling.

Clear.

Convulsing.

Apologies.

Limp.

She's just limp.

Dead.

That incessant long beep.

The images shake me as they filter behind my eyes with such fluency.

"Get out of my head!" I tug my hair back, yelling to no one.

Everyone.

Someone.

Anyone.

Please, I beg, Please get her out of my head.

I PUT EXPENSIVE shades on to cover the exhaustion that comes from having a faithful ghost.

Joshua is with Sebastian for the weekend so I have some time to myself. Sort of. I go to the new club, to associate with people who don't quite know me, and don't quite care to.

No doubt, I'll leave with a woman with red hair and green eyes to have meaningless s*x and a nightmare when I get home.

One good thing, at least that comes for all this, is that my dominant nature returned. Like a shield, I summon it when I'm with others and leave it when I'm alone.

"Hey, Maxi! Glad you make it!"

I nod, not bothering to fake a smile or correct Pherriden. I hardly like him anyway and he knows it.

"Yeah, me too. Great place!"

Being the cocky motherfucker he is, he offers a thanks, flitting away to celebrate his success among women and brag among with men.

I sit on the barstool, facing the crowd of bodies instead of the cluster of alcohol. This is an opening, the press will crawling all over this place.

The song changes to Crazy in Love, the slowed down version. The crowd parts, and I don't understand why until I see her.

Her red curls wild, but she's wilder. Her black dress is a shirt. At least in length.

It wraps her around her, tightly, holding her in all the right places. All places my hands will hold her by the time this night is through.

Her hips swing sensually to the music, claiming the dancefloor. Everyone, including me, watch her in awe. The chorus starts, sending her into a shock of wild rhythmic sensuality.

She swings her hair, holding it back, throwing her head back, blood red nails pulling her bottom lip down her neck. Her back arches, she bites her lip.

The music commands her body, making her tantalizing body lurch forward and backwards, swinging her sensually.

Her eyes don't open, not once. Murmuring has stopped, small talk is nonexistent. It's just her and the music.

Until it stops. The beat possessing her leaves her body, and she snaps her eyes open. Immediately, they catch mine.

The crowd presses in on her, the hypnotic mood dissipating.

I leave.

I moved to Los Angeles for a reason. I moved my son, moved away from my brother.

California is a long way from New York. She shouldn't be here. Hell, I shouldn't be here. I duck out of the door ignoring the calls of the not quite friends.

"Wait! Mr. Kane!"

Something about that makes me snap. I whip around, anger boiling, bubbling over, spilling into my demeanor and voice.

"Really? I watch you die on a table and I'm still Mr. Kane?"

She rubs her arm, A March breeze chilling her. “About that."

No. Not about that. I dream about that enough. I dream about her enough.

And longer I stand here and shoot the breeze with her, the more likely I am to do something I'll regret later. I can’t afford recklessness.

"I just wanted to say thank you."

I want to haunt her. Haunt her like she haunts me.

I want her to go back to New York reliving the things I'd do to her. Questioning why it matters.

"Go home, Ms. Killian."

Her fiery red hair catches the breeze, riding it. She's still in front of me.

"What do you want?” I snap. “You're welcome. Bye!"

She snaps back, vicious and stubborn as ever.

"Why are you angry? Am I supposed to say sorry I died?!"

I wasn't thinking. It happened because I wasn't thinking, I was angry. I just wasn't thinking.

I dragged her around the corner of the building, pushed her against the side of the building, molding my body to hers.

I wasn't thinking.

I caged her in, placing my hands on the wall, my lips so close to hers. So close I can't even look at her eyes, I’m focused on them.

"No, you're supposed to say, sorry I took over your mind."

She looks at me like I've lost my marbles, and maybe I am. But haven’t we all lost a few? Marbles are so easy to lose, and so hard to find.

Her chest brushes against me every time she let a ragged breath out. Her beautiful lips parted but no words came out. I wrapped my hand around her throat, pressing into her.

"Say it." I demanded.

She didn't do it fast enough, so I brought her hips to mine, reveling in her quiet moan.

"Say it, Ms. Killian."

"I'm sorry I took over your mind."

I smile in satisfaction, moving back enough to see her eyes.

"Why are you in LA?"

Her eyes dart left and right as if she didn't want to tell me the answer because I wouldn't like it.

"On vacation."

Perhaps it shouldn't have, but it pissed me off. Everyone begged her to take a break. She has a die on a f*****g operating table to take a vacation?

"A vaca-A vacation?"

My eyes narrow when she nods and smiles.

"And long has it been since you took a break since the last time I saw you?"

Again, her eyes dart away from me, and I know whatever she says next will set me off.

"About two months or so."

So basically, she got up, left the ER, took a five second break and then returned to working herself to death.

Cool.

"Why? Why has been that long?"

I have no right to know, not really.

Not all.

"I really have no need to take a weeke-"

My lips brushing against her own stop her from completing that infuriating sentence. I move her hair, and kiss behind her ear.

"I'm gonna show you exactly what you need, and then I don't ever want hear that again."

She looks dazed as I pry her body off the wall, wrap her legs around my waist, carrying her to my car, dropping her in the passenger seat.

At that moment I wasn’t thinking about my son, or the fact that eventually, we will have work together.

I wasn't thinking.

I swear I wasn't thinking.