The CEO's Redemption Read online

  Mel catches my gaze and says, “You look terrific, hun.”

  “Thanks, I’m back to my pre-baby weight. Once I focused on just being happy, I started to eat right, exercised and spent time in the sun. Then, it all came together.” I don’t share how I joined a local church where we sing and say a few prayers on Sunday.

  Maybe I’ll join more of the community someday, maybe not. The important thing is, I feel connected to some higher power.

  Much later, I grab some food, more beer, and chat with all the girls in the group. The men have started a game of hoops on the side of the house and it sounds serious.

  With so much peace and joy, my second wedding day fades into evening. Finally, I sit on Gray’s lap, a bit buzzed. Sweet jazz plays from the speakers as the caterers start to clean up.

  He hugs me close and kisses me sweetly on the lips. “Happy?”

  “Best day ever, except for one thing.”

  He laughs, knowing me all too well. “Except for the fact there were so many people.”

  “I wish we could throw a party for maybe, an hour or so, say hi to everyone, then ask them to go.” I chuckle at how silly I sound. “Maybe the beer has gone to my head.”

  “Nah. I get it. You never really liked crowds.”

  “No, I do, I do. I love every one of these guys, just one or two at a time.”

  Mel approaches with her driver Jack, and Gabi. “I’m afraid we need to go. Are we still on for Wednesday?”

  “Absolutely.” I give her a hug. “See you then.”

  After everyone leaves and the baby falls asleep, me and Gray lay together in the hammock and look up at the stars.

  Cicadas sing like drunken afuche players, crickets buzz, and fireflies give us a lazy light show. I hold Grayson’s hand while he rocks us, a leg hanging over the edge, toe in the grass.

  With my head on his shoulder, I turn, and look into his intense, gray eyes.

  “Happy?” His finger swirls a lock of hair around my ear and I honestly don’t know how to answer.

  Happy seems so trite, so small, so undeserving a word. What I feel is so much more intense. It makes my eyes water and my heart pound. I’m light years beyond mere happy.

  As I kiss my husband, my lover, the father of my child, and my best friend, I decide there are no words to describe how I feel.

  Instead, I take his hand, lead him to our bedroom, and drop my dress on the floor along the way.

  The End

  The CEO’s Valentine

  A Billionaire Novella

  By Stella Marie Alden

  The CEO’s Valentine

  Chapter 1

  Grayson Patten III

  “Jeannie, you will not believe what just happened. I just got my performance—” This blond beauty storms into my borrowed office, lifts these huge blue eyes, and her mouth drops open.

  “Who’re you?” Her blush reaches to the top of her forehead as I stand and reach out my hand.

  “James, ah… Statten. Head of Human Resources. And you would be?”

  Warily, she steps forward and yet shakes with a solid grip. “Izzy. Sorry, I mean Isabella, Isabella Harte.”

  Her arms cross over her well-endowed chest to where my eyes had wandered. She’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and painted-on jeans.

  “Sit, sit.” After motioning her toward the guest chair, I slide back down into mine, quickly scooting forward to hide my politically-incorrect yet growing interest.

  I wonder if she noticed because she backs away toward the door and glances around the small but neat office. “What happened to Jeanine?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Huh? How is that?”

  Shit. Busted.

  “Hold on. Let me log in.” I swivel the monitor to be sure that she can’t see, type a few keystrokes, and after a bit, blatantly make up a lie. “It says here she quit. Found a better offer.”

  I feel like a total ass when she plops down in the chair, mouth turned down like she just lost her best friend. “Jeesh. She never said anything to me. That’s her kid’s picture on the desk, her awards are still on the wall…”

  Isabella Harte suddenly jumps up and steps across the tiled carpet to the edge of the desk. “My God, you fired her, didn’t you!”

  “Hey. Don’t blame me. I just got here.” She’s damn astute, though, and I’ll get to the bottom of this but not in front of my angry employee.

  “Let’s stay focused, okay, Ms. Harte? What were you ranting about when you barged into my office?”

  Immediately, I regret my phrasing, for her heart-shaped chin juts out further, her neck tics, and those beautiful eyes darken. “Ranting? I’ll tell you why I was ranting. You know, employees get rated on a one to five scale, right? I just got a fucking three. A three? I worked my ass off. I saved this company so much money but do I get credit? Hell no. Do you know what Dan said? I’m too forward. Confrontational? What the fuck? I’m not confrontational. I just tell people what they need to hear and most times I get blamed for the bad news.”

  With that attitude and in this economy, she’s lucky to have a job. “Given the circumstances, a three seems quite adequate. Most people would be pleased.”

  She paces the small space waving her hands in the air. “Hell no, it’s not adequate. I worked seventy-hour weeks. I brought the Prudential account home under budget and in half the time, not to mention Wells Fargo, Bank of America, and a couple others. I deserve at least a four point 0.”

  “Ah huh. And did your manager tell you why you didn’t get what you think you deserved?”

  She breaks away from my gaze and stares out the plate glass, down onto the grid-lock of lower Broadway. “Dan? Yeah, he did. Said my delivery was lacking, that some people think I need to soften my tone, that I’m… confrontational.”

  I can’t help but smirk. “And this is how you prove him wrong?”

  Her furious face turns back to me. “I’m no more confrontational than any man.”

  “I see.”

  However, I don’t. All I see is a beautiful woman with an axe to grind.

  She no-doubt reads the look on my face. “No, sir. I don’t think you do. I spoke with three other developers and one project manager, all women, and they were told the same thing. Don’t you think that’s odd? I also have a lot of male friends, some who are a lot more confrontational than me and they did not get that called out on their performance review.”

  As I think of what just happened to Uber and a couple other companies, a chill runs down my spine. “Those are serious allegations. Was that the only reason Dan gave?”

  “No. My billable hours were down but Dan said he’d make sure I wouldn’t get dinged for it and yet here I am. I always get fours, dammit.”

  She steps and leans over, her ample breasts almost resting on my desk. “If I file a complaint against him, you can’t fire me, right?”

  “No… but you really should learn to talk out your differences with your manager.” Leaning back, I make a steeple with my index fingers and when I put the tips to my mouth, she rolls her eyes at my attempt to look engaged.

  “Dan Masters really isn’t the type to take constructive criticism.” Brows raised, she’s daring me to disagree and I can’t. The man is a genius with customers but a hothead with his own staff.

  Apparently done, her hand reaches to the door handle. “I can tell by the look on your face you’re not going to do a damn thing. Listen, ah, Mr. Statten, right? Forget it. Forget I said anything. I’ll just take it to a friggin’ lawyer and see what he has to say about it.”

  What the fuck?

  Vaulting over the cheap desk, I land in front of her and she has the good sense to cower.

  “What did you say?” I seldom lose my temper but she just pushed all my buttons.

  I don’t move when she tries to push me aside to get out the door. “It’s illegal to treat women differently than men, even in the software industry. You can’t tell the women employees that they need to tone it
down unless you tell the males the same thing.”

  “Maybe he did.”

  “Yeah, right.” She looks at me like I’m worse than dog shit as I stare back.

  There we stand, chest to chest, nose to nose, non-verbally daring each other to back down but I’m the one who made the huge mistake.

  I stood too close.

  Her sweet pheromones trickle up my nostrils and her heaving chest is too close. Her lips are too full, her eyes too damn blue, and hell, she’s just too fucking pretty.

  Thank God, my upper brain engages because the one below my navel has something else in mind. I move aside to let her pass but not far enough and her breasts brush against me.

  Ah damn, the black centers of her eyes are dark when she looks up at me.

  “Sorry. I promise I’ll look into this. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. This really is a good company to work for.”

  A sea of blue surrounded by thick blond lashes stare into mine for the longest time and my throat goes dry. I probably would’ve promised her anything right about now and that pisses me off.

  “I tell you what. Take the rest of the afternoon off. Send me an email when you decide what you want out of life.”

  “I sure will.” Her syrupy sweet smile matches her tone and she walks out the door.

  Damn.

  I lean against the wall and hit it with the back of my head. Then, I open the personnel records in our database and find Isabella Harte.

  Apparently, Dad hit a home run when he hired her; salutatorian of her class, BS in computer science, graduated with a 4.0 GPA.

  Overachiever.

  I wonder how much of what she said was pure bullshit and check her previous year’s review. It’s true that under a different manager, she walked on water.

  No doubt, she fucked the first one’s brains out to get that kind of rating and I bet the other women she mentioned were only trying to make her feel better. There’s no way, with all of our in-house training, that Dad’s managers would be so blatantly discriminatory.

  Still, her threat worries me. I promised my father I’d take his company public and something like this could escalate.

  Too bad she’s such a troublemaker. That Midwest, girl-next-door thing makes my blood run hot. I bet if she wore heels, she’d be the perfect height to pull against my hard-on. Then, her big blue eyes would half-close and those blonde lashes flutter…

  Hell, no!

  I force myself to reflect upon her accusations. If she actually says something to lawyers and it gets out, she could screw up everything.

  I’m not about to let my dad down.

  I storm into my COO’s office and close the door. “Xavier. We need to talk.”

  As usual, he’d dressed in his California laid-back mode, with ripped jeans and a retro-band t-shirt. “Dude. Chill. It’s all good.”

  His attitude isn’t cutting it with me, not today. “Isabella Harte is claiming that women are not being treated fairly.”

  He sits up behind the shining oak, seemingly more interested but I wonder if it’s just for my benefit.

  After a few clicks on his keyboard, her picture pops up on his monitor. “Relax, she’s always bitching about something. You’re the one who said we needed to be more selective about raises. She’s probably PMS’ing. She’ll be fine in a few days.”

  I shut the office door hoping to God no one heard him. That kind of trash talk was fine in our frat house but this is real life. “Jeez Xav, you can’t say that kind of shit out loud. My dad is counting on us.”

  He slaps me on the back and shoots me a grin. “I was just kidding. Why are you so uptight? Sit down. How is he?”

  “Fine. I’m sure he’ll beat this thing.” It’s not true but it’s the answer that everyone wants to hear.

  Swallowing back the huge lump in my throat, I change the subject to something I can control. “I got accountants lined up for this week. You ready?”

  “Hell no. You didn’t give me enough warning but don’t worry. Go on up to the hospital. I’ll see to things here. You go take care of him.”

  That’s exactly what I’m doing. Xavier doesn’t know the half of it and after this morning, I have no intention of telling him.

  My dad may be a real trusting sort but me?

  Not so much.

  Chapter 2

  Isabella

  Take the afternoon off? In my book that equates to you’re-lucky-you-didn’t-get-fired.

  Shit. Who knows? I might be.

  I Google the whole scenario that just happened and find out that Patten Securities can’t fire me. If they do, I can sue. However, that assumes I can afford a lawyer.

  Seriously?

  This world is so screwed up. Xavier, who reports to the top dog can screw any woman that walks into his office and no one says squat. I just mention that my performance review might not be fair and may lose my job.

  I punch my forehead with my palm. Why can’t I just learn to shut my stupid mouth?

  In truth, this is all that James Statten’s fault.

  First off, someone in HR shouldn’t wear such a sexy scent. I have no idea if it was cologne or soap but it must’ve been really expensive to get my sorry hormones fired up.

  Secondly, he should brush back the lock of hair that falls into his eyes and shave the stubble. A guy in his position should not have that kind of bad-boy thing going on. Finally, for an HR director, he’s got about as much sensitivity as Donald Trump.

  What’s up with that?

  And why on earth, with all that in the negative column, am I wondering what he’d look like, naked in my bed? It’s probably that I haven’t had sex for over a month.

  I bet his lips are soft and he tastes like the coffee I smelled on his breath.

  Dammit all.

  I don’t care who the hell he is or how good he smells, he’s got no business trying to take Jeannie’s place.

  Maybe that’s why I went off on him. I ping her but get no response. Damn. What happened to her?

  I guess there’s nothing else to be done but update my resume with all the right key words. I got a couple friends willing to hire me but I’m not ready to move to the west coast. I just got settled and then, there’s Jared.

  Okay. So, my boyfriend is no knight in shining armor but he’s not a complete ass, not like James Statten. Well, except for lately… but every relationship has a rough patch, right?

  I mean, my Mom and Dad were married for years and fought all the time.

  Then they got divorced, Izzy.

  Whatever.

  As soon as Jared finds a new job, I’m sure everything will go back to like it was before and we can get married. Maybe we’ll even make love when I get home.

  It is Valentine’s day and he used to love it when I’d surprise him at work. Smiling, I remember all the places we made love, including the gym, late at night in his cube, and the office supply closet.

  After stopping at Starbucks for some joe, I take a nearly empty “M” train to Bushwick, rush down the stairs, and under Myrtle Ave. Then, I trudge a few blocks through black mushy snow and I’m home.

  I unlock the door to my studio apartment and…

  What the fuck?

  Maya is naked in my fucking bed with my fucking boyfriend and she’s fucking him.

  Oh my God. This can’t be happening.

  Jared scrambles to find his pants and Maya screams, ducking under the covers, as if that will help.

  Me? I just stand there like a picnic table set up on train tracks. The whistle blows and the headlight is a-comin.’

  Finally, I manage to gather a few brains cells to form a coherent sentence. “You have until five to get your shit and get out!”

  “But babe. This is my house, too.”

  “Move in with Maya. Her apartment is bigger than mine. Five! Got it?” I slam the door and ping my friend, Melanie Quinn.

  Me: Lunch?

  Mel: Sure.

  This has to be the worst Valentine’s Day on the face of
the planet.

  I wrap my scarf closer against the wind. A nor’easter is supposed to be barreling up the coast and will drop at least a foot of snow by week’s end. I hear there may be another scheduled after that.

  Bring it on.

  Our favorite hangout, Talon Bar, isn’t open yet, so I text her a small place known for a decent lunch, sit in a comfortable booth, and order a local artisan beer. The place used to be an auto body shop. The garage doors were replaced by plate glass and look out onto the sidewalk. The tabletops are covered in sixties Formica, the floors have a feeling of old cement, and the walls are cinder blocks. Like everywhere in Bushwick, there’s a disdain for opulence.

  Mel shows up in about a half hour looking like a million bucks. She always did but even more so when she married CJ and had his kid.

  “What’s wrong?” After she tugs off her warm parka and motions to the waitress, the tears I’ve been holding back, slip out and fall down my cheeks.

  “I caught Jared in bed with Maya.” It’s so damn hard to say out loud but once I get started, it spews. “In my bed! In the apartment that I pay for. Using the sheets that I bought. What the fuck? Ew!”

  When the server comes over, Mel orders me another. I down it, she pulls me out of the booth, and drags me to the lady’s room.

  She splashes cold water on my face and scolds like no other woman can. “No one is going to see you fall apart. You hear me?”

  I nod. This area of Bushwick is like a small town. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. If I sit here crying and getting drunk, it will get back to Jared.

  Fuck that.

  “He’s a loser, sweetie. Always has been.”

  I dry my face on a paper towel, and the mirror reflects this sad, puppy dog look. Then we exit the bathroom, go past the bartender cleaning glasses, and head to our booth.

  Once we’re settled, I grab the bowl of crispy kale and munch thoughtfully. “Did you know he was cheating on me?”

  “Of course not. I would’ve had CJ beat his ass from here to Texas, if that’s really where he’s from. I’ve had my doubts. Not only that, he has this roving eye thing going on. I never quite trusted him.”