CEO Secret Romance

ISABELLA POV I was lying curled up on my twin trundle bed when I began to hear my grandfather’s voice echoing from the balcony downstairs. “Isabella, honey, could you come join me for a minute? I’ve made some yummy pancakes,” he announced in his typical playful voice. I rolled lazily from side to side. Wasn’t it ten minutes ago that we had some French fries when he served me breakfast in bed? “They are really good,” his voice came again. “Okay, grandpa,” I responded lazily and knowingly. “Just give me a moment to change.” “Alright, honey,” he said. Grandfather has always been like this, treating me like his little pet. Since my graduation from Louisiana State University and the subsequent employment letter I received five days ago from Alexander Stone’s company, this loving, patronizing attitude of his has worsened or, should I say, become much more affectionate. Either way, it sometimes made me feel precious, while other times it just made me sick. I let out an indulgent smile. Just yesterday, he had tried serenading me to bed like a little toddler. I smiled again to myself before stretching out and getting up from the bed. I ran my hands over the foolscap sheets and three files laying diagonally on my personal table, my laptop beside them with its backlight popping on and off at intervals, fluctuating my Tiger’s face screensaver. I rubbed my palms over my face and re-read the acceptance letter I had prepared. “Still feels like a dream,” I whispered to myself. I just couldn’t believe that I could get so lucky and so quickly. In my employment letter, it was stated that I am to resume on Monday. Today was a Saturday. I would be resuming as the new secretary to the CEO of one of the largest, richest multinational corporations in the whole of San Francisco; The popular Alexander Stone’s Group. I had never personally met him, but his name was not new to me. The Stones were renowned as a family of billionaires, and the immense wealth they commanded is as ancient as the city itself, inherited across five generations. It was indeed a family of old money. I stared at the only photo enlargement in my room. The one I had taken standing in a pink nondescript dress at the orchard, with grandfather standing next to me, his arm over my shoulder, a childlike smile plastered on his wise, wizened face.” “I will miss him so much,” I muttered again to myself. By this time next week, I will have to pack out completely into the Staff housing block located within the company’s estate. That was also part of the necessary bureaucracy associated with the job. If not, I would not have minded going to work from here. I am all he’s got, and he is all I’ve got. That’s been the constant since my birth. Raised by my grandfather, I was merely three years old when tragedy struck—losing my parents and grandmother in a plane crash. Grandpa and my nanny, Miss Lancelot, had been the only father and mother I know. It must have been difficult for him. I sensed the hardship for a man as sensitive as grandpa, I could tell, but for my sake, he had mastered himself and had conquered the trauma so he could give me a life and a shoulder to lean on. However, that story could wait for another day. I have already sent word to Miss Lancelot to come over and stay with grandpa while I am away. Grandpa says he is fine with it, but he is only pretending; I know him inside and out like the back of my palm. I know he is only feigning understanding. I see the worried creases beneath his chin and the redness in his swollen eyes. That is why we have had over fifteen different segments of ‘family moments’ since the past three days. “If that’s what he wants, then he’ll totally get it. Grandpa deserves so much more,” I said again to myself. “Isabella,” Grandpa’s voice echoed again. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, sweet Grandpa, I’ll be right with you.” I flipped my laptop closed and hurriedly opened the door as I made for the sitting room downstairs in my nightgown, no longer bothering to change. Bella, sweetie, you almost took forever,” Grandpa grumbled light-heartedly. “I know, Poppa, and I’m sorry,” I apologized, rubbing my hand over his back to soothe him. “Come on, darling, you know you can do no wrong. You know that?” He asked, almost too seriously. “I know, come on, Poppa… I mean, how couldn’t I?” I made a face and chuckled. “And oh, where are those heavenly pancakes? Poppa’s girl is finally here to dig in, ready to gain some weight!” I cheered, flapping my hands. Grandpa got up charismatically, immediately assuming the character of a chef. “Just sit… like a queen right there, let me go get them,” he said, tottering towards the microwave. He added, “Trust me, Walmart’s got nothing on me.” I giggled aloud. After pancakes with Grandpa, he had fallen fast asleep, lying haphazardly on the couch, while I sat next to him, propping him up to rest more comfortably. My smartphone rang repeatedly, flashing Chloe as the caller’s identity. Chloe had been my friend since high school. If I were to put it correctly, I would say she was my ride or die. “Hi, Prom girl,” I picked up, hailing mischievously. “What’s up, battleship priestess?” She teased back. “No going out today?” She asked. “Well, I was planning to, but what do I say now when my grandpa is just beside me,” I said jocularly. “Grandpa? Come on, the old boy is a man of his own, why don’t you just let the poor man be, young lady?” Chloe advised. “Shut your trash hole,” I said, feigning anger. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m actually at the Linea shop,” she said. “The coffee shop?” I inquired. “Yeah, just casually staring at some cute rich white boys… Why don’t you come join, mama, will you?” she suggested. “Always… always the boys for you,” I mocked. “Get over here, schoolgirl,” she voiced. I paused and took a quick glance at Grandpa on the couch, who was still fast asleep, before I said, “Save me a seat.” “That’s my girl,” Chloe continued with her jesting. “Whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes before I hung up. At the coffee shop, from the outside, I could see the brilliant pale golden lighting of the interior from a distance. The tables were arranged side by side with brown vintage-styled umbrellas hovering over each of them. It had a lot of wealthy-looking patrons seated on the arranged chairs, engaged in conversations. Immediately as I went past the central transparent glass, I instantly caught the brown, humid smell of the coffee. When I turned, I saw Chloe sitting at a corner on one of the chairs, her legs crossed. Then she blinked with one eyelid naughtily alongside a head gesture that meant ‘Take your order.’ While shaking my head in resignation, I approached one of the baristas who warmly greeted me, offering a charming smile as she handed me the Americano Chloe had ordered. As I prepared to pivot and head in Chloe's direction, a tall man clad in an expensive three-piece suit abruptly dashed into me. The cup I was holding tumbled, and some of its contents splattered onto his white shirt. Chloe immediately stood up and ran towards us. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said to the man. ‘She’s so sorry, sir. We apologize,’ Chloe pleaded on my behalf. ‘Sorry?’ The man asked with an angry smile. ‘Sorry is not enough, young lady. Your blind ass should at least look carefully before you leap so you don’t go pouring coffee on the president tomorrow,’ the man fumed. ‘I beg your pardon,’ I retorted. Chloe tried to restrain me, but I shoved her off. ‘You beg me what?’ the man asked, not believing his ears. ‘I said I beg your pardon. Who the hell do you think you are?’ ‘Isabella!’ Chloe yelled my name, pulling at my arm, but I flung it away. ‘Do you know who you are talking to, young lady?’ the man asked again. ‘Do I look like I care? Are you the pope? And even if you were, do I look like one of your aides?’ I shrieked bitterly. ‘You don’t go about talking to people like that. Get off your high horse, please,’