Seducing the Ice-Cold CEO

Chapter 8

Leah

May was laughing so hard I thought she might actually choke on air. Her fingers were flying across her keyboard, typing who-knew-what, while tears welled in the corners of her eyes. One slipped free and rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t even bother to wipe it.

“I wish I could have seen your face!” she gasped, wheezing. “I’m sure you were pressed up against him like your life depended on it!”

I had been telling her about my disastrous first attempt at snaring Dante Kerlsen, and from the way she was laughing, you would think I was a part time stand up comedian. I scowled and tossed a balled up sticky note at her, though it barely made it past my own desk. “I’m serious, May. He knew. He figured out exactly what I was trying to do and then he made sure I regretted it. He sped up like a madman! I’m lucky I didn’t fly off the back.”

May wiped her cheek, still giggling. “Oh, come on. You were flirting, Leah. You can’t flirt with a man like Dante Rivers and expect him not to notice. You practically begged for that motorcycle ride.”

“I did not beg,” I said indignantly, turning back to my screen where the final copy of my article stared back at me. I’d edited it twice already but still kept finding things to tighten and phrases to polish. “I was... negotiating.”

“Sure,” May said, stretching the word out until it was practically a song. “And then you negotiated yourself into a death grip around his abs.”

I groaned, dropping my forehead briefly onto my desk before sitting back up. “I hate that he saw through me so easily. I wanted to be in control, you know? I wanted to have the upper hand and make him squirm a little.”

May raised a brow. “And did you?”

“No,” I muttered. “He barely blinked. He drove us back to the club like nothing had happened. I almost sulked like a five year old when I was saying goodbye to Victor.”

“What happened after that?”

“What else could happen?” I asked with a shrug. “We left. He took me straight home without a single glance in my direction. No smirk, no comment, nothing. Just silence. And of course, I couldn't act like it mattered, so I just sat there trying to pretend I didn’t feel like I’d lost a game I had started in the first place.”

May clicked her tongue sympathetically, even as she shook her head. “There is always something new in your life. I swear, you’re like a walking soap opera.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “If I’m the soap opera, what does that make you?”

“The loyal best friend who gives excellent commentary,” she said without missing a beat.

We were still laughing when Esther strutted by, her hips swaying and her chin tilted up like she was the queen of the entire floor. Her smug little smirk didn’t even falter as she passed me, her eyes trailing across my desk.

May clicked her tongue again. “Ugh. She’s totally shameless. I bet she’s coming straight from the boss’ office. She probably just handed in that article she basically stole from you.”

I gave a lazy shrug, still smirking. “She’s not shameless, just delusional. If she thinks her knockoff interview can hold a candle to mine, she’s in for a rude awakening.”

With a content sigh, I leaned back in my chair and gave my screen one final glance. My article gleamed up at me, polished to perfection. “And... done. Final edit complete. All that’s left is to hand it in.”

I sent the file to the office printer and stood, stretching my arms above my head. The tension in my shoulders cracked deliciously, and I smiled as I bent down to pick up my stapler.

May raised her coffee mug and pretended to make a toast to me. “Good luck, Sparrow.”

I blew her a kiss. “Luck is for amateurs.”

The printout was still warm when I gathered it, carefully aligning the pages before stapling them neatly in the top corner. I held it for a second, letting my eyes travel over the headline. My smile grew. It was good, really good.

With the article in hand, I made my way to our editor-in-chief, Mr. Burke’s office. The door was slightly ajar, and I peeked in to see him on a call. His voice was low and serious, his back slightly turned as he stood near the window. I considered just leaving the article on his desk, but something stopped me. I wanted to hand it over myself.

So I waited quietly, shifting my weight from foot to foot while pretending not to eavesdrop on the half-muttered conversation he was having. I caught nothing of interest, just a few names and a curt “We’ll discuss it later” before he finally hung up and turned back to the room.

He raised his brows slightly when he saw me. “Sparrow. Something for me?”

I smiled and stepped forward, holding out my article like a prized possession. “Final draft. Hot off the press.”

He took it with a nod, flipping to the first paragraph as he sank into his chair. He had barely glanced at the first few lines before his phone rang. I watched as he groaned under his breath and set the article down without comment.

“I’ll get back to you about it,” he muttered, reaching for his phone and answering with a clipped, “Yes?”

And that was it. Then I nodded and slipped out the door, only mildly disappointed. I had wanted to see his face when he read it and saw how good it was, but I would settle with being picked over Esther instead.

By the time I got back to my desk, May raised a brow at me like she expected some kind of a standing ovation. When I shook my head, she went back to her screen. Now that I had handed it in, I didn’t want to say anything, I didn’t even want to think about it until the editor got back to me or I would worry myself into exhaustion.

So I threw myself into my work instead.

The rest of the day was a blur of copy edits, fact checking, junior rewrites, and sending snippy messages to the new intern who still couldn’t distinguish between a direct quote and a paraphrase. I buried myself in tasks, chewing through them like a woman possessed. Anything to stop that quiet, nagging voice in the back of my mind that whispered maybe he liked Esther’s version more.

I hated that voice. I knew my interview was stronger, I knew it had depth and rhythm. Esther’s writing always read like she’d swallowed a thesaurus and regurgitated it without checking if the words made sense. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t land a hit every once in a while. And the thought that this might be one of those times and that she might outshine me because she got lucky made my skin crawl.

Around mid-afternoon, I was knee-deep in restructuring an interview I’d done weeks ago when the door to the office creaked open. I didn’t look up right away, I was in the zone. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw a slight jolt of movement from Esther.

She straightened in her seat like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment. Her chest puffed up. She even subtly fluffed her hair. I didn’t know whether to gag or applaud her commitment.

Then Mr. Burke came into the office and moved toward her desk. For a split second, my stomach dropped. A cold, slippery sensation uncurled in my gut like dread taking root. He had my file. But he was walking toward her. And I thought; oh God, maybe he did prefer hers.

But then he laid the file down on Esther’s desk. “I read it,” he said. His tone wasn’t angry, just blunt. “Any of our writers could’ve written this.”

Esther blinked. “Sir?”

“It doesn’t have a spark. It’s... hollow,” he continued. “Your questions weren’t engaging enough, Burough. The responses from Mr. Kerlsen sound like he was half-asleep. There’s no depth, no rhythm, no voice. No one’s going to keep reading after the first page.”

Oof. His words were firm but not cruel, and I think that made them sting even more. He wasn’t berating her, he was just stating the facts, like this was a simple correction to make. Something mechanical. But it wasn’t the same for Esther. I saw her cheeks turn a deep red.

“I think, for now, you should stick to assignments more suited to your skill set,” he added with a tight nod, then pivoted without waiting for her to respond.

He walked straight to my desk next.

I’d barely turned from my screen when he placed my draft on the corner of it. “Good job,” he said simply. “Make the edits I left in the margins and send it to publishing by tomorrow morning.”

That was it. Not praise, just those two words; Good job.

But coming from him? It felt like a golden trophy.

I smiled as I looked up at him. “Will do,” I said, fighting the urge to beam like an i***t.

He gave a small nod and walked away. From the corner of my eye, I saw Esther’s face, still red and frozen. May had the decency to lift a hand and cover her mouth, but I knew she was grinning. I didn’t even bother hiding mine. I let out a light, airy laugh and leaned back in my chair, pulling up the file of my interview on my computer and whistling softly as I skimmed through it again.

Esther stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor and stormed out of the office.

May looked over at me, eyes dancing. I winked. “Told you. Luck is for amateurs.”