THE GIRL, THE CEO AND A SLAP TO THE EGO
1384 Words
MR. RIGHT AND THE TOMBOY
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CHAPTER FIVE —
THE GIRL, THE CEO, AND A SLAP TO THE EGO
The city had a way of howling when it cried. Rain came down in heavy sheets, blurring headlights and drowning out honks. Jayda ducked under the awning of a closed fruit stall, arms crossed tight against her chest, hoodie sticking to her soaked frame.
Damn New York weather. Damn this hustle life. Damn everything.
Her shift had ended twenty minutes ago, and she was debating whether to take the bus or hoof it in the rain when she caught the faintest flicker of movement from the other side of the crosswalk. A little girl. Alone. Standing way too close to the street like she was waiting for someone—or worse, trying to cross on her own.
Jayda squinted through the downpour. The girl couldn’t have been more than five. Pink tutu, tiny glitter backpack, rain-slicked curls plastered to her forehead.
“Hell no,” Jayda muttered and stepped out from the awning.
Then came the screech of tires.
A black Escalade rounded the corner too fast.
Jayda’s instincts took over.
She didn’t yell. She ran.
Shoes slipping against wet asphalt, she sprinted across the intersection and grabbed the girl just as the SUV swerved with a violent jolt. The vehicle missed them by inches, fishtailing before disappearing into the storm. A wave of water sprayed over them.
Jayda collapsed to her knees, clutching the trembling child against her chest.
“Hey! You okay, kid?” Her voice cracked.
The girl whimpered, clutching something soggy to her chest—a plush unicorn now soaked and mangled.
“I dropped her,” she sniffled. “I didn’t mean to—”
Jayda held her tighter. “Forget the damn unicorn. You almost became roadkill.”
“I just wanted to get to my daddy.”
“Where the hell is your daddy?” Jayda snapped, scanning the street. “Who leaves a kid like you out here alone?”
The girl sniffled again. “I ran away from my driver. He was yelling on the phone. I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen. So I opened the door when the car stopped and I... I got out.”
Jayda's jaw clenched. Idiots. Rich, careless idiots.
“Alright, c’mon, pixie. Let’s get you out of this storm.”
—
Ten Minutes Later – Corner Shop on Bedford
Jayda sat the girl down in the back corner of a tiny bodega, wrapping a towel around her. She grabbed a hot cocoa from the fridge and knelt beside her, ignoring the stabbing ache in her knee from when she hit the pavement.
“What’s your name, troublemaker?”
“Arabella Kingsley.”
Jayda froze.
That name. She’d heard it before. Somewhere.
“Kingsley, huh?” Jayda narrowed her eyes. “Your dad wouldn’t happen to be that arrogant bastard on every business magazine cover lately, would he?”
Arabella blinked. “Daddy says he’s ‘not arrogant, just superior.’”
Jayda choked on a laugh. “Yup. That’s him alright.”
Arabella smiled, her confidence returning. “He’s the CEO of Kingsley Enterprises. He builds buildings and fires people.”
“I can tell,” Jayda said, watching her sip hot chocolate like a mini heiress. “You got that executive glare down already.”
Arabella giggled.
Jayda turned serious. “Alright, Arabella. Let’s call your dad before he sends a SWAT team after you.”
Arabella fumbled with her sparkly backpack. “I don’t have a phone. I think I left it in the car. And I don’t know his number. Just the assistant’s name—Miss Becky.”
Jayda groaned. “You rich kids and your assistants. Okay. Stay here. Let me make some calls.”
—
Meanwhile – Kingsley Enterprises, Upper East Side
The conference room was chaos.
Security guards flanked the room. Assistants frantically typed. A map of Manhattan blinked on the screen, tracking the last GPS signal from the Escalade.
Veronica paced like a panther in heels. “You were supposed to have eyes on her!”
Alex Kingsley sat still, elbows on the table, fingers steepled. He hadn’t spoken in ten minutes.
Everyone knew not to mistake silence for calm.
“I swear,” Veronica continued, “if my baby—”
“Shut up,” Alex said flatly.
Everyone froze.
He stood slowly, voice low and venom-laced. “You were shopping for shoes while our daughter climbed out of a moving car. Save your dramatics for the tabloids.”
“She was in your city,” Veronica hissed.
“And your custody,” he growled.
An assistant tiptoed into the room. “Sir... uh... we just received a call from a corner store in Brooklyn. Someone found Arabella.”
Alex’s jaw tightened. “Address.”
He was gone before she finished reading it.
—
Back at the store
Jayda was humming as Arabella danced in front of a display of bubblegum. The little girl was dry now, laughing like the storm hadn’t tried to kill her an hour ago.
“She’s lucky,” the store owner said behind the counter. “She could’ve died.”
Jayda shrugged. “Couldn’t let that happen. She’s got too much sass to waste.”
The door slammed open.
And the air changed.
Jayda turned—and her stomach dropped.
There he was.
Mr. Right. Mr. Wrong. Mr. Arrogant-as-Hell.
Alex Kingsley. Six feet of tailored ego with rain on his shoulders and fury in his eyes. He looked like a storm dressed in Prada.
Arabella gasped. “Daddy!”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t melt. He walked past Jayda like she was invisible and scooped Arabella into his arms.
“You ran,” he said, voice hard.
“I—I had to get my unicorn,” Arabella whispered.
He didn’t respond. Just held her.
Then turned to Jayda.
Their eyes locked.
Recognition flared.
“You,” he said. Like the word tasted bad in his mouth.
Jayda smirked. “Hello to you too, Mr. Corporate King.”
“You’re the one who called?”
“After saving your daughter from becoming Manhattan roadkill? Yeah.”
Alex’s eyes raked over her—dripping wet sneakers, bruised jeans, hoodie clinging to her curves. He looked... unimpressed.
“You let her drink this?” he asked, pointing to the half-empty hot chocolate. “God knows what’s in it.”
Jayda blinked. “You serious?”
He stepped closer, still cradling Arabella. “You should’ve called the police. Not dragged her into some street shop.”
“I did what you failed to do,” Jayda snapped. “I kept her alive.”
“She wouldn’t have been in danger if you hadn’t distracted her.”
Jayda barked a laugh. “I distracted her? Are you for real?”
“You think this is a game?” Alex’s voice dropped, icy. “You don’t get points for saving someone when they never should’ve been in danger to begin with.”
“Oh, so now it’s my fault she was in the damn street?”
Arabella tugged his sleeve. “Daddy, she helped me—”
“Not now,” he cut her off.
Jayda’s fists curled.
This man. This man.
“I could’ve left her there,” she said quietly. “Let the SUV take her. Would’ve saved me the headache of dealing with you.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Alex’s tone was poisonous.
Jayda smiled coldly. “Because unlike you, I have a soul.”
He stared.
She stared right back.
Arabella blinked between them like she was watching a very spicy soap opera.
Finally, Alex turned to leave. “I’ll have someone wire compensation for your... effort.”
“Shove your money,” Jayda called after him. “I don’t save people for tips.”
He paused at the door.
Then turned, voice like smoke. “Then what do you save people for?”
Jayda’s eyes burned. “Because I can.”
He left without another word.
Arabella waved sadly over his shoulder.
Jayda stood alone in the bodega, fists clenched, chest tight.
She’d saved a life today.
And still ended up feeling like she lost.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
-
- Writer
