The Groveling CEO

CHAPTER FOUR: I Create A Problem

CARTER’S POV

She came back the next day.

And the day after that.

I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to say anything. This was my company. My building. My executive floor. If my wife— my estranged, divorce-paper-filing, completely unbothered wife — wanted to come in, sit at other people’s desks, and teach Janet from HR how to make paper cranes in the break room, that was fine.

Totally fine.

I was fine.

“You’re not fine,” Daniel said, stealing another forkful of my pasta.

“Get your own food.”

“I have food.” He gestured at the sad salad he’d pushed aside. “I don’t want it. I want your pasta.” He chewed thoughtfully. “Also, your secretary is currently in the break room turning half the floor into origami enthusiasts.”

I looked up. “What?”

“Yeah. She’s been in there twenty minutes. People have abandoned their desks. She’s very popular, Carter. People like her.”

“People should be working.”

“People are charmed.” He pointed the fork at me. “Your wife is charming. You should try it sometime.”

“Daniel.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Eat your salad.”

He took another bite of my pasta instead.

I spent the rest of the afternoon pretending to read a merger proposal while being hyper-aware of exactly where Stella was. The sound of her laughter two offices down. The faint trace of her perfume when she walked past my door. The fact that she hadn’t looked at me directly since the hallway incident.

She can’t know.

She’d heard those words. I knew she had from the way she’d gone still. She thought it was about another woman.

It wasn’t.

It was about the Nakamura deal quietly circling the drain and the media already sniffing around our marriage. The last thing I needed while my wife was trying to leave me was to hand her more reasons to walk away. So I kept my mouth shut and let her think whatever she wanted.

Stella did not disappoint.

She knocked on my office door at half past two — actually knocked, which was new. She usually just walked in like boundaries were optional.

“Come in,” I said.

She leaned against the frame in a crisp white blouse and a skirt that hugged her hips. Professional. Devastating. I hated how much I still wanted her.

“The Morrison report,” she said. “You want it by Friday?”

“End of day Thursday.”

She made a note on her tablet, eyes on the screen. “Anything else?”

I looked at her. She looked at her tablet.

This polite, distant professionalism was the most effective torture she’d ever devised. She treated me like a mildly interesting client instead of the man whose name she’d moaned four nights ago.

“That’s all,” I said.

She nodded and turned to leave.

I don’t know what possessed me. One second she was walking out, the next I was at the door, my hand braced above her head on the frame. She turned, and suddenly we were close, too close. Her back against the wood, my body caging her in.

“Carter,” she warned.

“Stella.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

We stared at each other. Neither of us moved.

“This is a terrible idea,” she said.

“Probably,” I agreed.

“I still want a divorce.”

“I know.”

Her fingers grabbed my tie. My hand hit the lock with a soft click.

One pull and I was on her.

Her tongue slid against the corner of my mouth, demanding. “f**k, Stella.”

She answered by yanking the tie harder, dragging me back in. The small, satisfied sound she made went straight to my c**k.

I picked her up by the thighs. Her skirt rode up as I set her on the edge of my desk. Papers scattered. Her tablet clattered to the carpet. Her heels dug into the backs of my legs, locking me in place.

I shoved my sleeves up. Her hands were already under my shirt, nails raking over the tattoos on my back. Buttons popped. My belt hit the floor. I freed my c**k, the King Albert piercing catching briefly before it sprang heavy into my fist.

She watched, lip caught between her teeth. She always watched. Her eyes dark and breath shallow. The piercing wrecked her faster than anything.

I dragged the bar through her soaked folds, letting the metal catch her c**t until her breath hitched. Then I pushed in, one slow inch at a time, watching her stretch around the thick length and the steel that would leave her feeling me for days.

“More,” she breathed.

I gave her all of it. Buried to the hilt, I stayed there, letting her flutter and clench around me. Her nails dug harder into my back.

We found a rhythm . Short, sharp thrusts that rocked the desk. Pens rolled off the edge. Every time I tried to pull back, she yanked the tie and dragged me forward.

I should have kept it fast.

Instead I slowed down. Pulled almost all the way out, then slid back in deep and deliberate. My forehead dropped to hers.

“Stella…”

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered.

I couldn’t.

Her face was flushed, eyes glassy and locked on mine. She was close. I ground the piercing against her c**t with every thrust until she clamped down hard, biting into my collar to stay quiet. My name came out muffled against my skin as she came.

She took me with her.

Two more strokes and I pulled out, striping hot across her thigh and the ruined silk between us.

We stayed tangled, breathing hard. Her fingers loosened on my tie, smoothing the wrinkles instead of pulling. I traced my thumb over the bite mark on her lip.

She didn’t stop me.

She didn’t look away.

Outside, keyboards clicked and phones rang. The building had no idea what had just happened behind the locked door. In here, the air smelled like s*x, her perfume, and something I was terrified of losing.

I helped her off the desk. Her legs trembled slightly before she steadied herself and sat in my chair like she owned it. I leaned against the desk, watching her fix her blouse with that perfectly unbothered expression.

I was smiling.

I couldn’t help it. A stupid, helpless grin I didn’t even try to hide.

Stella looked up and saw it.

Her expression flattened. “Stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You have that stupid face on.”

“I don’t have—”

“Carter.”

“Stella.”

She stood, smoothed her skirt, and picked up her tablet from the floor. She walked to the door with complete dignity, as if she hadn’t just been f****d on my desk.

Then she turned.

She looked me up and down slowly.

Then she raised her middle finger. “f*****g bastard.”

And walked out.

I laughed, actually laughed out loud in my empty office like a man who had completely lost the plot.

I sat back down at my desk, still smiling.

My phone buzzed.

James.

He’d had the awareness to clear my afternoon schedule without being asked. God bless that man. I was going to give him a raise.

A significant one.