Texting The CEO - Page 25

“What would you like to drink?” he asks, his face lighting up boyishly.

I grin at the mischievous smirk, his eyes glinting playfully.

Then I turn and see what he’s smirking at. It’s a small robot on wheels, with an iPad built into its rectangular head. It whirs quietly toward us and then stops.

“Good evening, lady, good evening, gentleman. Would you like some drinks to start?”

“What is this?” I ask.

“I own stock in a tech startup. They’re prototyping a new service robot. I’m not sure it’ll go anywhere, but I’m friends with the man’s father. So I said I’d help out.”

“Right.”

Stop, stop, stop. I warn myself in a vicious voice, trying to make myself see reason.

“Right….”

He arches his eyebrow as if silently asking me what the heck my problem is. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me, and there’s something behind the look. For a second, it’s like he’s one of my old teachers, patiently waiting for me to stutter through my answer.

It’s not his age. I love his age, gray hair, and firm, mature body.

It’s that judgment. It’s the words from the car.

“That way, fewer people see me, right?” I snap.

I’m convinced it’s my womb, that feeling deep inside.

Whatever it is, it tightens now, a frenetic ball of…of destiny. I’m done denying it. Something inside of me is hungering for this man on the deepest level a person can feel. That’s so dangerous it hurts.

What if he doesn’t feel the same?

I know he can’t feel it.

“You’re hiding me away.” My heart is hammering, and my voice is rising, and I know I should stop. I need to stop, but then I’m on my feet, and tears are in my eyes. “You were happy you had tinted windows because nobody could see us. You want to bring me to the most private booth in the whole restaurant. And now this robot crap….”

I almost knock the chair over as I stride down the hallway, my eyes stinging with my tears. Luckily, I’m holding my bag, which means I’ll have a way out. I can call someone, anyone.

Shouldn’t I have waited to hear his response?

The question comes too late. I’m down the hallway, in an elevator, hammering the button. Felix comes walking around the corner, taking long steps, his tall body moving fast.

“Fiona, wait.”

The doors slide closed, his voice becoming muffled and then disappearing as the elevator begins to move.

I clutch tightly onto my bag with both hands, repressing the urge to scream.

I don’t know what that was. It was like suddenly the idea of us being together seemed so ridiculous.

Isn’t it easier to end it now, before he wants more than kisses or before I want more than a few dates?

I already want more than that, though.

My thoughts won’t stop, around and around and around.

I walk down the street, not even sure where I’m going, my feet carrying me quicker than I can think.

It’s not even like I’m running away from Felix anymore.

Already, I regret letting the doors close. His face was so confused, so understanding…or was it angry?

It all happened so fast that I can’t remember clearly.

Maybe there was another explanation.

But going back will mean facing what I just did.

Storming out like a bratty kid. Ruining my chance with the man of my dreams.

I come to a stop when I realize I’ve wandered down a small side street with a few clubs and bars dotted around. Lights shine onto the street. Men and women talk out front, some of them smoking cigarettes.

Something seems off about the place, like a bad vibe.

The feeling isn’t more specific than that, but my instincts tell me to get away. Danger, danger, something in my mind screams.

As I turn away, two men swerve into my path. One is tall and has wide shoulders. He wears a tank top, both arms covered in tattoos, thick scars knotting through some of the designs. His head is bald. The other looks just like him, right down to the bald head, but he’s shorter, leaner. They look like brothers.

“Hey, sweet girl,” the bigger one says. His accent is Russian, I think. “I maybe have a job for a sweet girl like you.”

The smaller man mutters something and the younger one sniggers. I don’t need to know what the bigger man said to know it was cruel.

But I’ve got more to worry about right now than being insulted.

“What do you say? I give you good money, and you give me….”

He grins as he reaches down, squeezing onto his crotch.

“And we get you some lovely drugs to clean away all this extra cushion, yes?”

I blink, fresh tears stinging my eyes. He nods at my belly, making it clear exactly what it means.

“Get out of my way,” I whisper.

The bigger man laughs and walks forward, veering slightly from side to side as though he’s finding it difficult to keep his footing. But he’s nowhere near being drunk enough for me to be able to knock him over.

Tags: Flora Ferrari Erotic
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