What did the CEO do?

Chapter Eight - The River

A few weeks passed, and somehow neither Solomon nor I ever had the conversation about what exactly we were doing. We never sat down and asked whether we were together, whether this was supposed to become something serious, or whether there was even a name for whatever had developed between us. Instead, we simply continued as we had been, acting like a couple whenever we were alone and pretending to be nothing more than CEO and executive assistant whenever anyone else was around.

At work, we were almost painfully professional. Solomon would call me into his office to discuss schedules and reports, I would address him formally, and whenever someone walked in, there was never a hint of anything unusual between us. The second the door closed, however, all that professionalism seemed to disappear.

Most nights, we ended up at my apartment, usually after dinner, and somewhere along the way my place had stopped feeling entirely like mine. Solomon had shirts hanging in my bedroom, a pair of his shoes had permanently found their way beside my front door, and there was even a coffee mug he always used sitting on my kitchen counter as if he'd quietly moved in without ever actually announcing it. We spent so much time together that I had stopped wondering when he was going home, because more often than not, he simply stayed.

And our nights had become... well, let's just say that practically every surface in my apartment had witnessed something it probably shouldn't have.

The couch.

The kitchen counter.

The dining table.

The bedroom, obviously.

At some point, I stopped being embarrassed by it and started finding the whole thing strangely domestic, which was probably more dangerous than the s*x itself. I was getting used to having him there, to waking up beside him, to finding his clothes mixed in with mine and hearing his voice in my kitchen in the mornings. The worst part was that I knew I was falling for him, even though I hadn't said it out loud and wasn't entirely sure I was ready to admit it, even to myself.

That evening, though, I was alone.

Solomon had a late meeting, one he had described as private, and when I'd asked what time he would be back, he'd simply told me not to wait up. I hadn't asked any more questions because I knew by now that there were parts of his work he didn't discuss, and honestly, I had enough on my mind without interrogating my boss about every meeting on his calendar.

So I spent the evening on the couch in sweatpants, watching television and eating something straight out of a bowl, enjoying the rare opportunity to have the apartment to myself.

At least, I was enjoying it until the television suddenly switched to the evening news.

I wasn't paying much attention at first. The news was mostly background noise while I scrolled through my phone, but then the reporter said something that made my hand stop halfway across the screen.

“A citizen discovered a body in the river earlier today, which authorities have now identified as Daniel Anderson—”

I slowly looked up. The bowl in my other hand suddenly felt much heavier.

The reporter continued, explaining that the body had been discovered by someone walking along the river, who had immediately contacted emergency services. Police had recovered the remains and identified the victim as a man who had been reported missing several weeks earlier.

Daniel.

I couldn't take my eyes off the television.

Then the reporter mentioned the condition of the body, explaining that the victim had been decapitated and that investigators were currently working to determine what had happened and who was responsible.

My stomach twisted. Daniel.

The man who had walked into my office.

The man I'd spoken to while Solomon was in a meeting.

The man who had told me about Brian's accident.

The man who had disappeared the very next morning.

I put my bowl down and reached for my phone, my fingers suddenly clumsy as I opened my messages with Solomon.

I typed the first thing that came to mind.

Alex: Turn on the news.

I stared at the message for a second before sending another.

Alex: They found Daniel.

Then, almost without thinking, I added:

Alex: That's why I stopped seeing him around the building.

The message showed as delivered, but there was no immediate response.

I looked back at the television, although I wasn't really listening anymore. My mind had already started putting together pieces that I desperately didn't want connected: Daniel disappearing the morning after he'd spoken to me, the conversation we'd had about Brian, the strange expression on Solomon's face when I'd told him about the hit-and-run, and the way Solomon had asked me whether I was still worried about Daniel.

I tried to tell myself that I was imagining things because I was frightened and because the circumstances were disturbing enough to make anyone suspicious, but the more I thought about it, the harder it became to ignore the timing.

My phone finally buzzed.

Solomon: I'm aware.

I frowned at the screen and typed back.

Alex: You knew?

The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, and then appeared again before his answer finally arrived.

Solomon: I just heard.

I stared at those three words for longer than I probably should have.

There was nothing strange about them. In fact, they were perfectly reasonable. Solomon was the CEO of a huge company, Daniel had been an employee, and something this serious would almost certainly reach him quickly. Still, something about the conversation made me uneasy.

Alex: It's horrible.

His reply came a few seconds later.

Solomon: Yes.

I put the phone down and leaned back against the couch, listening to the reporter continue discussing the investigation. They were saying that police had not released much information yet and that they were asking anyone with information about Daniel's movements in the days before his disappearance to come forward.

I barely heard any of it.

Instead, I kept thinking about Daniel standing in my office a few weeks earlier, smiling and making small talk with me while he waited for Solomon. I remembered how casually he'd told me about Brian, how he'd suggested we get a drink sometime, and how he'd seemed completely normal when he walked out of my office.

The next morning, he had simply been gone.

At the time, I'd convinced myself there were plenty of innocent explanations. Maybe he'd taken time off. Maybe he'd quit. Maybe he'd gotten sick or had some family emergency. I'd looked for him around the building almost every morning afterward without really knowing why, and when I asked Solomon about him, he'd never given me anything more than a few casual words.

Now Daniel was dead.

And suddenly those few weeks of unexplained absence felt very different.

I rubbed my hands over my face and tried to push the thought away before it could take shape.

There was no reason to suspect Solomon.

He was kind to me. He was gentle when we were alone, always making sure I was okay, always remembering the smallest things I mentioned. He held my hand at dinner, kissed me when nobody was watching, slept beside me, and somehow made my tiny apartment feel warmer whenever he was there.

He couldn't possibly—

My phone buzzed again, interrupting the thought.

Solomon: I'll be home later.

I looked at the message for a moment before answering.

Alex: Okay.

I set the phone beside me and turned my attention back toward the television, although I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the evening.

Daniel had been missing for weeks, and now he was dead.

I had no idea what had happened to him, and I had even less idea why the news suddenly made me think about Solomon.

For the first time since I'd met him, I realized just how little I actually knew about the man I had started letting into every part of my life.