Entangled To The CEO

Rainer’s [POV]

The city lights of her view glowed. Tasha’s small condo was lit from it, and the effect was a magical semi-darkness. In it, her skin was honey.

God, if I kept thinking like that, I would have to devour her all over again. I eased up, immediately missing the warmth of Tasha’s body.

“How about I light a fire?” I asked. Tasha nodded quickly, but there was a small, glowing smile still on her face.

She sat up when I turned away to the fireplace.

She tossed my boxer shorts over my shoulder, and I could hear her slipping back into her clothes.

When the kindling was blazing, I turned around to find her blouse and jeans all tidy.

At least her hair was still loose and tousled.

“I’ll grab our plates,” I said, pulling on my pants as I jumped up.

“Thanks,” Tasha said. She eyed my bare chest as I brought our full plates to the coffee table.

I handed her her wine and wished there was more I could do for her. Tasha was quiet, too quiet.

I wanted her praise, but I didn’t need it; I knew what I had felt extended through both of us. I just wanted her to say something, anything.

My fork stopped mid-air and a pile of jasmine rice spilled back onto my plate. I wanted Tasha to ask me to stay.

I wouldn’t, I mean, I couldn’t. I wasn’t the kind of man who stayed all night and cuddled, but there it was, the urge to pull her close and hold her until the flames burned down to embers.

“I can’t get over your view,” I said. “Me neither.” Tasha eyed my bare chest again. I laughed and held out a forkful of curry for her to try. Tasha shook her head.

“Am I seeing a blush on your cheeks?” I asked. Tasha almost spilled her wine.

“I think we’re a little past blushing, don’t you?” “I don’t know,” I said.

“If you do a few of those things again, you’ll have me blushing to my toes.” She finally let loose a giggle.

“Stop. We’re not talking about that.”

“You’re right,” I said. I leaned over and kissed her neck.

“Talking’s overrated.” “What would we even have to talk about?” Tasha asked.

I knew what she was thinking. Outside of work, what did we have in common? My phone buzzed in the kitchen and saved us both.

Tasha nodded for me to answer it and took a large bite. At least I knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t worry, it’s not work,” I said. Tasha coughed.

“You work past sunset?” I chuckled but bit the inside of my cheek when I saw the message from Berger.

He and the guys were out in San Francisco and my absence was a major topic of conversation.

Berger had called my assistant and heard all about my day in the East Bay.

With Tasha. The messages then devolved to the current odds on me bedding the Ice Queen and a list of suggestions for if I managed to get the chance.

I had to send out a message reminding Berger of my interior designer. Then I realized he might know Sheila.

I swore at my phone and then turned it off. When I rejoined Tasha on the couch, the fire was warm, but her expression was cool.

Even though the couch was a jumble of cushions, her clothes were wrinkled, and her hair was still a seductive riot, Tasha looked prim.

Her plate was balanced on top of where her knees pressed tightly together.

She pretended to eat as if nothing was wrong, but I knew the magic glow was gone.

“Speaking of work” she started to say. I groaned and cut her off.

“No. You’re not going to do that. Can’t we just finish dinner? Maybe have another glass of wine?”

“But you have to drive back to the city tonight,” Tasha said. I lost my appetite and left my plate untouched.

“I can always call a cab.” Tasha put her plate on the coffee table and swept her hair back over her shoulders.

I caught her hand before she could twist her hair into a neat bun. She froze at my touch and then firmly pulled her hand free.

“It’s always better to catch Stan early in the morning, especially with a progress report. He’ll be in a better mood the earlier we catch him,” Tasha said.

“You’re setting an early meeting?” I asked.

Tasha fumbled under the couch and found where her phone had fallen.

“I think it’s best, don’t you? We need to measure our campaign inch by inch so we don’t waste more resources.” I watched her type the email to Stan while I pulled on my shirt.

“I’ll just be going then.” Tasha walked me to the door of her condo and I held my breath before I stepped outside.

I wanted her to grab my arm; she wouldn’t even have to pull me back.

Instead, she kept both hands flat on the door, her body pressed against it like it was a shield.

That empty want stretched out as I waited a few more seconds, but nothing happened.

I felt that hollowness even after I crossed the Bay Bridge and drove toward Presidio Heights.

I blared the horn and cut around slow tourists, revving my sports car past sane speed limits.

I liked hearing the tires scream as I took off from red lights, jumping ahead of traffic so I was out on my own.

A speeding ticket would have been the perfect punctuation for the night. I had gone too fast and screwed everything up.

That moment, that mushroom cloud of passion, was still reverberating, but now it was a permanent black mark on my record with Tasha.

Had she thrown me out to protect herself or had I just been used as a one-night stand? I couldn’t imagine Tasha being so stupid as to choose an officemate for casual sex.

Only I was that idiotic. The thought that Tasha had shut me out to protect herself lit up the rest of my drive.

My neighborhood was dark, and the majority of the mansions were empty and silent.

All the other occupants were off on exotic vacations or living the good life in some other corner of the world.

I imagined some of them, energetic couples, happy families, all somewhere warmer, brighter.This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

I left the sports car in my driveway and walked around back onto my deck to watch the cool fog.

San Francisco was shrouded in fog, the ocean views an undulating mass of eerie gray. Tasha’s neighborhood was still clear and bright.

She’d said the fog never reached her hilly street. The thought twisted in my chest.

I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed and made her glad that I was there.

I kicked the deck railing and turned to let myself into my echoing mansion. I imagined Tasha still cozy in front of the fire, sipping her wine. I snorted to myself.

“Probably in pajamas that button up to the top. Or she’s already in bed with her outfit for the morning all laid out properly.” My giant white marble fireplace yawned at me across the wide living room.

For a minute, I considered breaking up my old dining room chairs and starting a fire of my own, but my phone rang.

“Tasha?” I asked. I stood up and paced around in three tight circles. Did she want me to drive back over?

“Did you make it home okay?” Tasha asked.

“Worried about me, huh?” I asked.

“And here I thought you didn’t care.” Tasha carefully cleared her throat.

“About that, Rainer. It was a complete mistake. I have no idea what came over me. I’m sorry. You don’t have to worry about it. It won’t ever happen again.”

“I think you forgot ‘we never should have and ‘let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.'” I kicked one of my dining room chairs.

Tasha paused, considering the loud clatter, and then said, “I don’t mean to be a cliche, but this is my career we’re talking about.”

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” I stopped myself and held the phone back while I took a deep breath.

“Never mind. Your secret is safe with me. It’s already forgotten.”

“Good night, Rainer.” Tasha hung up on me.

“See you in the morning,” I muttered. Then I threw my phone across the living room.

That damn phone was the reason I was late for our early morning meeting. It had somehow skidded into the kitchen and slipped under the refrigerator.

By the time I found it, there were already five messages from my assistant.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way,” I said when Topher called again.

“Mr. Berger dropped by to see if you were in. He seemed to think you were going to be very late this morning.” Topher was worried, I could hear it in his voice.

“No, I’m on my way.”

“It’s just, I saw this morning that a meeting with Mr. Eastman had been added to your calendar by Ms.” I gripped my scuffed phone hard.

“I know. I’ve still got time to grab a coffee upstairs, so find me there if anything else comes up.”

Berger and the other junior executives were already lounging around the dining hall when I arrived.

I ignored their catcalls and jokes, poured myself a large coffee, and then came to stand at the corner of their table.

“So?” Berger asked. “We’ve got numbers to run. What happened with the Ice Queen last night?”

“Who says I was with her? There’s a whole other world of women over there in the East Bay,” I said.