Seducing the Ice-Cold CEO

Chapter 19

Leah

Mr. Burke’s voice echoed through the conference room, filled with that familiar, authoritative cadence that usually commanded my attention. But today… not so much. He was congratulating the team—“A strong performance this month, everyone, commendable work”—but I couldn’t focus.

My mind had slipped away, right back to the day before.

Specifically, to the part where I was curled up beside Dante Rivers on his couch, pretending to edit while relishing the heat of his body so close to me. God, the way my heart had pounded when I leaned in and asked him if I could pursue him.

I nearly smiled, just thinking about it. I realised too late that my lips had actually curved in a grin. I quickly covered my mouth with my hand, trying to disguise it as a casual itch on my cheek. A glance around told me no one had noticed, thank God. Everyone else still had their eyes on Mr. Burke, their expressions appropriately attentive and professional. I cleared my throat softly and straightened in my seat.

Leah Sparrow, get a grip.

Still… I couldn’t help replaying that moment, finding pleasure in the fact that Dante hadn’t pulled away. If I’d just leaned in a little more… maybe tilted my head… I could’ve stolen a kiss right there. I was fifty percent sure I could’ve gotten away with it, too. I sighed inwardly, barely resisting the urge to bury my face in my hands. I couldn’t help but wonder what Dante was like, kissing someone? Would he still be all restrained and in control? Or would his polished surface c***k?

I had a feeling it would be very nice to find out. Chairs scraped softly across the floor and I blinked, realizing everyone was rising. I hurried to stand as well, grabbing my notepad. The meeting was over. But then Mr. Burke looked directly at me and said, “Leah, could you wait behind a moment?”

I paused. “Sure.”

May, already slinging her laptop bag over her shoulder, shot me a curious look as she passed. Her expression screamed: Do you know why you’re being held back?

I shook my head, shrugging at her. She raised her brows, mouthed Good luck, and disappeared out the door with the others.

Once we were alone, I made my way toward the head of the table where Mr. Burke was shuffling through some papers. Despite his gruffness, he didn’t intimidate me not anymore, anyway. He looked up as I approached and gestured toward the chair beside him.

“Sit down, Leah.”

I did.

He slid a paper aside and looked up at me, his face unusually light. “I wanted to tell you this in person before it goes public around the office.”

My brows lifted, curious. “Oh?”

“The second edition of the magazine,” he said, tapping the stack of documents in front of him. “The one with your interview with Dante Kerlsen? It’s gone to print. We already have pre-orders in the thousands.”

I blinked. Then I beamed.

“Seriously?” I leaned forward slightly. “That’s… that’s amazing.”

“There’s been a lot of buzz,” he continued, nodding. “We’re getting attention from outlets that don’t usually look twice at us. Well done.”

That warm, fizzy feeling of accomplishment settled over me like sunlight. There was nothing, nothing, sweeter than success, especially when it came on the heels of something I’d poured my entire self into.

Hopefully, except kissing Dante, a snarky voice in my head said.

“Thank you,” I said to Mr. Burke, trying not to sound too breathless. “Really.”

“So.” Mr. Burke picked up another paper. “What’s next on your schedule?”

I mentally scanned my calendar. “I’ve got a follow-up piece on the sustainability report from GardenCore, and since I’m slotted to work with the intern, Ivy Fairchild, I’ll be doing a lot of on-site training for the foreseeable future.”

The words came out automatically, but even as I said them, I could already feel the boredom settle in my chest. They were necessary tasks, sure, but nothing thrilling. Nothing electric like that interview with Dante had been. I sighed internally. A job couldn’t be exciting all the time, I guessed.

Mr. Burke hummed. “Shelve all of that.”

I blinked. “Sir?”

He leaned back, face folding into a grimace. “I’ve been invited to the Apex Finance & Investment Conference as a guest speaker.”

My jaw dropped as I shot to my feet. “You what?”

“I know, I know.” He waved a hand as if trying to downplay it. “Don’t make a big fuss.”

“Too late,” I said, grinning. “That’s amazing! Congratulations!”

The Apex Finance & Investment Forum was a huge deal. It was an umbrella association of some of the most powerful finance and tech companies in the world and their annual conferences were events that pulled in global CEOs, economic think tanks, analysts, and cutting-edge start-ups. And now, Mr. Burke was going to be speaking at one?

This was big. Only the best of the best were ever invited to speak at the Apex Finance & Investment Conference. Keynote or guest, it didn’t matter—if your name was on that list, you had carved out a seat for yourself at the pinnacle of the industry. So when Mr. Burke muttered a clipped “thank you” in response to my congratulations, I blinked. There was nothing pleased about his expression. There was no satisfaction, no pride, just the same vaguely annoyed look he wore when the coffee machine broke.

I tilted my head, watching him shuffle the stack of papers in front of him like he wanted to crush them into pulp. “You don’t… seem excited,” I said carefully. “Is something wrong?”

He huffed, not even looking at me. “It’s an inconvenience.”

I stared. “An inconvenience?”

“I’m already busy enough here,” he said, finally glancing up. “Traveling back and forth for an event I didn’t even ask to speak at? What a waste of my time.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

He looked at me from over the rim of his glasses. “Which brings me to you. You’ll be going, as my personal representative.”

My stomach dropped. “...What?”

“To give the speech.”

My brain didn’t quite process the words at first. I just blinked at him, the way someone might blink at a gentle earthquake. Like I could feel the tremor but wasn’t yet ready to admit the ground was splitting under me.

“…What?” I croaked again, and promptly dropped into the nearest chair. Surely, I had misheard him.

But Mr. Burke didn’t so much as pause to repeat himself. He just kept arranging his papers, flipping one over like I hadn’t just short-circuited. “You’ll be fine,” he said simply, and I could only sit there, numb and stunned.

This wasn’t just a speaking engagement, it was the speaking engagement. The Apex Conference wasn’t a cute local networking event. Its attendees were international investors, CEOs of billion-dollar firms and evenfinance ministers from multiple countries. Every one of them were Titans.

People like Mr. Burke fit in there. He was a man who founded a hedge fund at nineteen, grew it to obscene success, and sold it for hundreds of millions before he hit thirty. A man who had no real reason to work now; he did so because early retirement bored him and Turning Point, a side project, had turned into a money spinning media company practically by accident.

Of course he belonged there. He had the credentials, the name and the clout.

Me? I was just a reporter.

“I—I really think Ms. Arya would be a better fit,” I managed to stammer, desperate. “She’s the assistant chief editor. She’s—well, I’m just a financial reporter.”

Mr. Burke finally stopped fiddling with his papers and looked up at me. He didn’t look irritated or amused, just… unimpressed.

“You’re not wiggling out of this one, Sparrow,” he said flatly. “I’ve already submitted your name in my reply. It’s done.”

I gaped at him. “But I—”

“And,” he cut in, his tone turning pointed, “you really need to stop saying you’re just a financial reporter as if you haven’t turned down more promotions than I can count.”

I froze.

He gave a dry little huff of laughter, like he knew exactly what kind of turmoil he’d just stirred up inside me. “It would’ve been you instead of Arya, you know, as Deputy Chief Editor. You were the first name I considered. The only reason she got it was because you turned it down without so much as reading the job description.”

“I just…” My voice trailed off. I had no argument, because he was right.

I had turned it down. I had turned down every step up, every extra inch of responsibility, because the idea of letting go of what I loved—actual reporting, digging, writing—made my chest feel like it was caving in. I didn’t want to sit behind a desk and oversee other people’s stories. I wanted to write them.

Mr. Burke stood, gathering his files and tucking them neatly under one arm. He wasn’t smiling, but there was something warmer in his eyes as he looked at me.

“You’ll do fine,” he said again, this time softer. He reached out and patted my shoulder briefly but firmly. “I said I would send in my best, and I am. Make whatever preparations you need. You leave Friday morning.”

And with that, he turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him. For a full five seconds, I just sat there, frozen, then I buried my face in my hands and groaned.

What. The actual. Hell.

I wanted to be flattered. I was flattered. Somewhere under the shock and panic, I could recognize this for what it was: a massive opportunity, and a challenge I probably should rise to.

But all I could think was: Me? Standing up there in front of ministers and billionaires? Me, who still has to check how to pronounce “revenue amortization” every few weeks? Me, who gets nervous ordering takeout on the phone?

I groaned again, louder this time, and let my head thunk gently against the edge of the table. I was going to die. Or worse—bomb, publicly, and spectacularly.