How to Kill a CEO

The silence inside that room was torture. When the warm wind shrieked through the window jamb, it made the temperature inside that office feel like hell. Once the huge guy sitting across the table looked at her with a sharp warning gaze, Ramona was almost convinced that she was talking with a devil. The fat, full-bearded, 'lumber-jack-looking' type of it. "Madame, this is a picture of a butt." "Yes, I know." "A very supple... smooth..." The secret agent c****d his head to that right while looking at the picture. Then with the most hushed tone, he popped, "... close up picture of a masculine butt." "Exactly, sir. I know Anatomy." She sarcastically raised an eyebrow upon recognizing the amusement that flooded the man's face. Wasn't she serious-looking enough? Maybe. Thus, she pouted her lips a little, tapping the molave table with her polished nails. "I want you to find my husband using that--" "You gotta be kidding me." "Do I look kidding?" Straitening her back, she opened the expensive tote bag on her lap and fished an envelope from it. Her eyes were never leaving the man's face when she gently pushed the envelope across the table, dragging it slowly until it stopped right next to the files sitting before the agent. "Here's your partial payment. Find him as soon as possible--" "Using a candid shot of an ass?" "Well, at least it's a decent ass." "But still an ass." Gregor shook his head in disbelief. He was suddenly confused between needing to laugh and throwing the picture in his hand to the bin. However, the thick white envelope resting on his desk stopped him from doing any of those. The pretty woman before him looked like she was going to eat his head off if he said no. "Are you really expecting my team to find someone using this photo, Madam? Do you have any other picture of Mr. Myers?" "No. That's the only one I got." Ramona blinked her eyes a couple of times as if thinking. Still, with one of her aristocratic eyebrows halfway up her forehead, she started to explain, "You see, my husband, Jacques is a very secretive man. That photo was taken during our honeymoon..." "And you weren't able to take a proper photo of him?" "I was in Dublin." "Well, my wife wanted us to spend our honeymoon there too." Gregor nodded, trying to understand things. "So, why don't you have a picture of that honeymoon?" "He was in Dubai, chasing camels and signing contracts for an oil company." "Oh! Okay... I wasn't expecting that." Scratching his chin, the agent stood up from his swivel chair, taking some paper with him. "I'm gonna call our caricature artist so you could start describing how Mr. Jacques Meyer looks like." "Umh... Unfortunately, that wouldn't be an option too." Ramona followed the man's action taking her bag with her and squaring her shoulders. Every move she made was screaming 'crazy rich, as her thousand dollar perfume bounced against the walls. "I don't know how he looks like." "Again, Ma'am. I don't think I got that part right." "I said, 'I don't know how Jacques Myers look-like.'" She shrugged her shoulders, unsurprised with how the Private Investigator's mouth dropped to the floor with her answer. Gregor looked like he was about to die of a heart attack. That wasn't Ramona's concern, though. "You're paid. Your company is known for being the best in its field. Do your job, Gregor." She waved her fragile hand as if swatting a fly. "Hold on, Mrs. Myers. You want me to find a person, you don't even know anything about, using nothing but a picture of his goddamn butt--" "A very, very sexy butt." she cut him off, smirking with pride when she corrected him. Well, if there was something that she could at least brag about her soon-to-be-ex-husband, it was the fact that even his rear could come up photogenic before skinny dipping in his Dubai swimming pool. Based on how wrinkle-free and tight his bum cheeks were, she could guess that he was a little over his thirties, not necessarily the typical old CEOs that she encountered around the metro. He was also on the muscular side. His skin looked soft, and every drop of water clinging on it sultry accented his asset in a mouth-watering way - glistening a little and yet leaving enough shadows for the contour. The photo also captured a cute glimpse of his spine dimples, sensually profound as it rested a little above his billboard-worthy humps. Given that perfect color, she could tell that the devil was a beachgoer, if not, probably just someone who hated underwear so much, he'd instead flaunt his nakedness everywhere. For Pete's sake, he didn't even have underwear lines. 'Yeah, bum so hot, my womb exploded when I first got the pic...' She let out a harsh breathe, remembering her reaction when she requested him to send her a picture right after she signed their marriage contract. Yes, that very same paper that solidified the merger between her parents' company, the Greenfields, and his company, the Myers. Breaking off the short trance, Ramona grabbed the picture from the desk. Her strides were fast when she walked around the table and step right into Gregor's way. She strongly thought that the guy should learn how to differentiate her husband's million-dollar ass from a crowd. "Look at the picture." Her voice had a slight tinge of despair when she spoke. Her eagerness was so evident that it was beginning to make her face red. Even her fingers were tight as she waved the picture on his face, forcing the huge man to look down. "Look at it!" "Mrs. Myers--" "Concentrate on it. His ass is phenomenal." she snorted. "I don't think millions got the same. Is your ass the same, Gregor? You have to deduce. He is in Dubai. He is an oil magnate. I don't care how much or where in this freaking world you will find Jacques right now. But I'm chipping, so go figure."