Tempted by the CEO: An Office Romance Read online

  Tempted By The CEO

  Iona Rose

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Iona Rose

  Author’s Note

  Hey there!

  Thank you for choosing my book. I sure hope that you love it. I'd hate to part ways once you're done though. So how about we stay in touch?

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  * * *

  Iona

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  Tempted by the CEO

  * * *

  Copyright © 2021 Iona Rose

  The right of Iona Rose to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patent act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  * * *

  Publisher: Some Books

  ISBN- 978-1-913990-24-4

  Prologue

  Opal

  When I see the time, I stand up quickly from my desk. Mr. Connell, CEO of Asima Assets Management, and my direct boss, has a meeting in half an hour that’s been flagged as important. I have been told to remind him half an hour before the man is due arrive. I don’t want to be even a minute late, because Mr. Connell is the kind of man who notices little things like that.

  I walk briskly from my desk to Mr. Connell’s office although there isn’t much space to cover for me to get there. As Mr. Connell’s personal secretary, I am the last line of defence between him and all of the people who want to take up his time. Most people understand that a polite no means just that. But at only five foot three, I’m not exactly intimidating. Yet, I am charged with keeping the people he doesn’t want to deal with in the moment away from him.

  Working directly for Mr. Connell for two years now, I still find myself nervous every time I have to go into his office. My palms start sweating and I can feel my heart speeding up a little, but over the years, I’ve learned to hide my nerves well, so no one would ever know I was anything but calm and confident.

  I take a half second to study the door while I take a deep breath. The door is a simple light oak bearing the company logo - a circle of red encasing the blue lettering of the company name, the capital letters in a matching red – and a nameplate that reads Robert Connell, CEO.

  Wiping my palms down my navy blue pencil skirt, I tap on the door. Mr. Connell calls for me to enter. I step inside, a bright smile plastered across my face.

  “What is it, Opal?” Mr. Connell asks, looking up from his computer and smiling at me. Mr. Connell is in his early fifties. His black hair is just starting to turn grey around his temples but his grey colored eyes are as sharp as ever. He wears his age well like a good bottle of wine, and he has no shortage of admirers, both in and out of the office.

  “You have a meeting in half an hour with Brian Meyers,” I say. “You asked for a reminder half an hour before he is due to arrive.”

  “Thank you.” Mr. Connell smiles. “Please call his secretary and confirm.”

  With a nod, I step back out of his office, pulling his door closed behind me. I mentally add the phone call to my daily to do list and hurry back to my desk. I’d like to call it my office, but truth be told, it’s more of a cubby hole. My desk is tucked back into a slight recess a couple of yards down from Mr. Connell’s office. It’s private enough and the corridor is usually quiet enough for me to work uninterrupted, but I would love an office so I could kick the door shut and keep the world out. It would kind of defeat the purpose of my job though, as a big part of my job is greeting Mr. Connell’s associates and potential new clients.

  Sitting down at my desk, I turn to my computer. I look up the number for Brian Meyers’ secretary, noting that her name is Suzy and I dial her number.

  The call is answered on the first ring, “Suzy Hayes, secretary to Mr. Meyers,” she says.

  Efficient. I like that. “Hi Suzy. This is Opal Collins. I am calling to confirm the eleven o’clock meeting between Mr. Meyers and Mr. Connell of Asima Assets Management.”

  “Mr. Meyers is currently on his way to the meeting,” Suzy assures me.

  Thanking her, I end the call. I look at my list of tasks for the day and I know instantly, I’ll be working late tonight again. There’s no way I can get through all of this before five. I see that tomorrow’s schedule is just as busy, so I can’t put off any of my tasks. I sigh and pick up the phone to make the first of many calls I have to make.

  I have just ended a call when the light on my phone flashes to tell me Mr. Connell is calling me. “Hello,” I say, picking up the phone.

  “Opal, have you confirmed the meeting like I asked you to?” he says.

  “Yes, Mr. Connell,” I reply. “I didn’t want to disturb you, but the meeting is still going ahead as planned. I would have only felt the need to disturb you if the answer had been a no.” Oh God, have I fucked up? Has he been expecting me to let him know either way?

  “That’s fine. I just wanted to check you’d called already. Mr. Meyers is an extremely difficult man to pin down and to be honest, I was half expecting him to cancel this appointment.”

  I instantly feel better. I haven’t made a mistake. Whew.

  Mr. Connell goes on, not waiting for an answer, “Please hold all of my calls until after my meeting. See Mr. Meyers in when he arrives and then make sure I am not disturbed under any circumstances for the duration of the meeting,” he says.

  “Yes, Mr. Connell.” I resist the urge to tell him I would never allow him to be disturbed during a meeting. I don’t really know a lot about Mr. Meyers or his company or why he’s having a meeting with Mr. Connell. But it must be important if Mr. Connell feels the need to point out something so obvious to me. I have to admit I’m curious about the whole thing. As Mr. Connell’s personal secretary, I usually get to know what his meetings are about, but this one is like some top-secret mission where I haven’t been told anything really, except Mr. Meyers’ name and his company name.

  I shake my head slightly. I don’t have time to be distracted by trying to work out exactly what’s going on here. It’s none of my business and if at some point down the line, I do need to know about it, then I know I will be told.

  Tending to another two calls, I fend off three calls for Mr. Connell, taking d
own the details and promising to pass them on once Mr. Connell is out of his meeting. While typing up some letters, I hear footsteps coming along the corridor. I look up from my typing to see a man I don’t recognize, making his way along the corridor towards me.

  A little on the short side, he looks to be about the same age as Mr. Connell, although the years haven’t been quite as kind to him. He has a little bit of a paunch and his hair line is receding. He’s wearing a very expensive looking suit.

  I wonder briefly if it’s to compensate for his hair line. I tell myself to stop being a bitch as I stand up and extend my hand. “Mr. Meyers, I presume?” I smile.

  He shakes my outstretched hand. He has a firm grip, but his palm is slightly sweaty. His sweaty palm makes him seem nervous, as does the slight twitch in his right eye. He smiles at me as he nods his head curtly, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

  “I’m Opal Collins,” I greet him. “Mr. Connell’s secretary. If you’d like to follow me please.” I step around in front of Mr. Meyers and lead him towards Mr. Connell’s office. My own palms remain dry, my confidence buoyed by the nerves of Mr. Meyers.

  Knocking on Mr. Connell’s office door, I push it open when he shouts for me to come in. I stand back and gesture for Mr. Meyers to enter. “Your eleven o’clock Mr. Connell,” I smile. “Would you like any refreshments brought in?”

  “No thank you,” Mr. Connell replies, answering for both men as he stands up to shake Mr. Meyers’ hand. “That will be all, Opal.”

  With a nod, I step out of the office and gently close the door. I’m tempted to remain in place and see if I can work out who the mysterious Mr. Meyers is and why he clearly doesn’t want to be here, but I decide against it. It would be the height of unprofessional and I would be fired instantly if caught.

  I return to my desk and try to forget about my curiosity. It doesn’t take long for me to lose myself in finishing typing up the letters.

  When I hear footsteps approaching, I steel myself for an argument when I tell whoever it is that Mr. Connell is unavailable but I relax when I see it’s just Jessie, one of the other secretaries.

  She’s practically skipping along the corridor, her auburn curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approaches. She’s grinning, a wide grin that makes her eyes sparkle.

  I know that look. It’s the look that says she has something particularly juicy to share with me. I feel a mild streak of annoyance run through me at the interruption for something that clearly isn’t going to be about the business, but I decide to hear Jessie out.

  Reaching my desk, she plonks herself down in the chair opposite mine. She’s so excitable she reminds me of a puppy. All she needs to do is start panting. “Guess what,” she says, her eyes shining with excitement. She can’t keep still on the chair, her whole body shifting constantly. She reaches up with one hand and twirls a curl around her finger.

  “What?” I ask, smiling despite my earlier annoyance as I feel myself getting pulled in to her excitement.

  “You have to guess,” she insists.

  I roll my eyes. “You got a promotion?”

  She shakes her head.

  “You were right about Martha from accounts sleeping with the mail man?”

  “Yes, I was right about that, but that’s not it,” Jessie gushes.

  “God Jess, I don’t know. Have you won the lottery or something?”

  Jessie laughs, a musical sound that is infectious.

  Now, I feel the last bit of annoyance leave me, even though part of me wants to shake her to get her to cut to the chase.

  “Honestly Opal, you are so bad at this game,” she says shaking her head.

  Even my lack of game playing skills don’t keep her down for long though and she grins again as she finally reveals her news, “Word is that the ever elusive Brett Connell, Mr. Connell’s son, has just pulled into the parking garage.”

  “Rightttt,” I say, drawing the word out into a question. How the hell would I have guessed that? And why is Jessie so excited about it? I mean I know Brett is rather elusive to say the least, but still. After two years of working directly for Mr. Connell, I have never met nor spoken to his son. But then is that so weird? Brett’s a grown man. He probably has his own life that doesn’t involve coming to see his father at work.

  I’ve heard plenty of rumours about Brett. Everything from him being the black sheep of the family who did time in juvie as a teenager to him being a recluse who refuses to leave his home. The truth is probably neither of those things. Obviously, the latter isn’t true, or he wouldn’t be here now. And if the former was true, Jessie would already have spilled all of the details of it to me.

  None of this really helps to explain why Jessie is so excited about this though. Or why she thinks I will care about the news. “Seriously Opal, try to at least pretend to be excited.” She laughs.

  “Ok,” I say. “I’m excited. There… I pretended. Now why is this something you’re so excited about?”

  “Now, I am offended.” Jessie tries to give me a pout, but is unable to stop herself from smiling. “I’m just shocked you even have to ask. But then in your defense, you haven’t seen Brett before, have you?”

  I shake my head.

  Jessie fans herself with her hand, as she gets up from the chair and starts to walk away. She turns back to grin at me. “I’m going to go and pretend I need to take the elevator somewhere, so I can be there when he gets out. Once you see him, you’ll understand my excitement. Brace yourself Opal. You are about to see the most beautiful man who ever existed.”

  Laughing softly and shaking my head, I can’t help but wonder what this guy is going to look like to have her that excited about his arrival. I mean is he made of gold or something?

  I guess I’m about to find out. Jessie has only been gone from my desk for a couple of minutes when I hear the ping of the elevator arriving and I know it’ll be mere seconds before the door opens. It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s this Brett guy, but a couple of seconds later, I hear Jessie laughing in a flirty way. I smile to myself as I picture her tossing her hair back and laughing hysterically at something that is, at best, mildly amusing probably.

  Pretending to be fixated on my computer screen, although I have completely lost track of the figures, I wait just a few seconds. I then realize I’ll have to start over again. Great. Thanks for that Jessie. I can’t put all of the blame on Jessie though. I should have had more sense than to let myself get pulled into the conversation, but Jessie is a good friend and I have to admit I enjoy her cheerful personality. It keeps office life interesting.

  I glance up without moving my head when I hear quick, quiet footsteps approaching. I don’t see much. I don’t let my eyes linger in case he catches me looking at him. All I see is a flash of a grey suit and that the man is tall. I mean everyone is tall compared to me, but he must be over six feet tall. He has a definite presence, a confidence that I can almost feel as he moves towards me, and despite myself, my breath catches a little in my throat.

  Keeping my eyes glued on my screen again, until Brett is almost at my desk, I know it would be rude not to acknowledge him at this point. His cologne fills my nostrils, a woodsy, spicy scent that should be overpowering but somehow isn’t. As I turn my eyes up to look at him, I try to forget Jessie’s words and her excitement.

  I smile up at him, flashing him my polished, customer service smile. It freezes on my face when I finally allow myself to look at Brett properly. Jessie wasn’t exaggerating about Brett’s looks. In fact, calling him the most beautiful man I would ever see actually feels like she’s sold him short a little bit.

  The man is that fucking hot.

  He looks like he’s around thirty-five, certainly no older than that. With thick dark hair in a trendy style that manages to look tousled and casual like he hasn’t made any effort with it at all, and yet perfectly styled and in place at the same time. Staring at his full, thick hair, I imagine myself pushing my fingers into it as his lips move to meet mine.
It would be silky soft, the kind of hair you want to touch constantly and can never get enough of.

  I force myself to look away from his hair, feeling my cheeks turning pink as I shake off the image of my hands in his hair, his lips on mine. It turns out that looking away from his hair is a mistake. It had been distracting, but it has nothing compared to his eyes. They’re the color of caramel, a warm brown that makes me melt inside. His eyes are so mesmerising that I can’t look away from them, and the longer I look at them, the more detail I see. They’re flecked with tiny specks of lighter brown, a color that is almost gold the flecks catch the light and sparkle as though they really are tiny pieces of gold leaf floating there in his eyes.

  The gold flecks make me think of my earlier thought when I wondered if the man was made of gold or something. It turns out I wasn’t wrong, except that next to him, gold would look like cheap copper. Something to be tossed aside in favor of the much better thing beside it.

  Brett clears his throat.

  Now, I feel the slight flush on my face when I realize just how long I’ve been staring at him. Wow, Jessie was so right about him. I should have been more prepared, so I could play it cool.

  Instead, I stare at Brett and I realize with horror that I’m still staring at him. Even as my mind screams at me to look away from him, I just can’t quite bring myself to do it. And to make matters worse, my mouth is still frozen in my fake, customer service smile. My cheeks are actually starting to ache from the smile. I must look like I have a damned coat hanger wedged in my mouth.