Texting The CEO: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance
CONTENTS
Texting the CEO
NEWSLETTER
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
Three Weeks Later
Five Months Later
One Year Later
Nine Years Later
NEWSLETTER
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS
LAIRDS & LADIES
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD
IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS
INKED BY LOVE
Collaborations
About the Author
TEXTING THE CEO
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
_______________________
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 293
FLORA FERRARI
Copyright © 2022 by Flora Ferrari
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
TEXTING THE CEO
It was a mistake.
I should never have stolen his phone number, mainly because of a silly crush.
Felix Franklin is forty-two years old, the billionaire CEO of the company where I work as a lowly assistant. He wouldn’t look twice at me, and not just because of my position.
I’m twenty, on the curvy side, spending a lot of my free time hunched over a sewing machine, dreaming of being a fashion designer.
Felix is forty-two and ripped. His hair is iron, and his wolfish blue eyes are intense. He looks confident and dashing in photoshoots and an alpha in the extreme.
But when I get his number, I can’t resist.
I won’t have to meet him. I won’t have to tell him I’m a virgin or that he’s so much more experienced than me.
Really, what harm can one text do?
It turns out the answer is a lot.
It can bring Felix crashing into my life in a whirlwind of possession, jealousy, and primal hunger.
It can bring the darkness of our pasts up and make us reveal things we wanted kept secret.
And it can bring us together…even if I’m always wondering, always doubting if he truly feels the same as I do.
* Texting the CEO is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
NEWSLETTER
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CHAPTER ONE
Felix
“I can’t stand the idea of leaving you all alone in the world.”
Mom slumps in the chair, unable to sit upright, a handkerchief clutched in her hand. Her nurse, Sebastian, stands respectfully at the edge of my office, near the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city.
I lean forward and look my mother in the eye with a sigh. She was a solid, unbreakable woman when I was growing up, always in control.
The first time I watched her in a boxing match, I remember how stunned I was that this woman – this fierce tigress in the ring – was the same woman who tucked me in at night.
Now, her illness has made her weak.
Her cheeks are gaunt. Her eyes are pits.
Something dark drops into my stomach. It shouldn’t be this way. My mom should not be this way.
But what she’s asking is impossible.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
Some of her old fierceness comes into her expression.
She gestures with her hand. “Sorry for what?”
I laugh awkwardly. “For not finding a woman. For not giving you grandchildren. That’s what you’re pissed about, isn’t it?”
She grimaces. “Is that what you think it is? No, you silly boy, I don’t want you to be alone. You have everything a man could want…except somebody to share it with.”
I groan. We’ve had this conversation before. But it’s not as though I’m going to argue with my dying mother. Even before the illness began to take her, I didn’t make a habit of disrespecting her.
“Do you have something to say?” she snapped.
I shake my head, smirking. “Nothing much. Only that I’m not a boy anymore, Mom. I’m damn near fifty.”
Even if it’s not true, she laughs, her face lighting up. It’s moments like these when I can almost forget about her cancer.
But a second later, the laughter becomes a hacking cough. She leans over, coughing forcefully into her handkerchief. Sebastian moves from the window, the tall, lean man’s face pinched severely, but then Mom spins on him, shaking her head.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she says. “Just maybe… a glass of water, please.”
Sebastian moves to the edge of the room. My heart twitches as I take in the sight of my mother, looking so vulnerable I could roar.
We’ve tried everything. I've paid for expensive experimental treatments, trials, and even research with my fortune as CEO of one of America’s biggest media conglomerates.
And all I can do is make her comfortable. All I can do is attempt to make her last days not so painful.
Is there a chance?
The doc says there is, but not a big one. Maybe ten percent. Probably less.
Mom sips on her water and then frowns at me, though her eyes are glinting in a way I recognize well. People say I’ve got the same glint in my eye, that I inherited it from her. It reminds me of how she looked when I was a kid when our rent was late, and the landlord was harassing her, and I thought she would break his legs.
“Why haven’t you found a woman, Felix?”
“I’ve had girlfriends,” I say.
She tilts her head, not needing to speak. We both know I’ve never felt serious about anybody. I’ve stopped dating in recent years, not seeing the point in trying.
Maybe part of me has accepted that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my days. On the other hand, perhaps part of me is okay with that.
Except….
“What?” Mom says eagerly.
I grin. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
“Don’t play games with me, silly boy.”
We both start laughing.
“You were thinking about something. I could see it in your eyes. What is it?”
I run a hand through my hair. Sebastian and I exchange a glance, the nurse smiling briefly. We both know that once Mom has got her teeth into something, nobody could make her let go.
“I’m waiting for the right person,” I tell her.
“You’ve been saying that for years.”
I sigh. “I know.
That’s why I didn’t want to say anything. But it’s the truth. I can’t just rush into something for the sake of it. It wouldn’t be fair to her. It wouldn’t be fair to me.”
Mom reaches across the table. I struggle to believe the hand belongs to her, with her bones pressing through her paper-thin skin and her veins showing.
It makes me wish cancer was a person, a real human being, so that I could throw the bastard out the window.
I squeeze onto her hand as she meets my eye.
“This isn’t about what happened when you were a kid, is it?”
I grit my teeth. My jaw aches. My mind flashes with blood, and I hear somebody scream. There’s a smell of smoke, and then I forcibly remove myself from the memory.
“No,” I say. “I don’t think so, at least. Hell, Mom, it’s not like I spend all day every day thinking about why I do things.”
“I wish it didn’t have to happen. I wish I’d done something.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” I tell her sternly. “You know I hate it when you do that.”
She looks at me for a second longer, then turns to Sebastian. “I’m getting tired. Can we go?”
“Of course.” Sebastian strides across the room, offering his arm. “We’ll get some sushi if you like.”
Bizarrely, sushi is the only food Mom has been able to keep down lately.
But even at this, her lip curls. “I can’t stomach it.”
“Lucy….”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll try.”
She meets my gaze significantly. “Because trying is all we can do.”
After she leaves, I find it difficult to focus on work. Instead, I pace my office, my hands behind my back, ending up at the window which overlooks the city. I remember when I first moved into this office. I was thirty-four at the time. I’m forty-two now, and yet it seems so long ago.
The excitement, the thrill, the pride….
It’s still there but in a lesser form. When it comes down to it, business is business, no matter how big or small. It’s all about putting in the hours and keeping things running smoothly.
It would make Mom’s life so much sweeter if I found a woman before….
I can’t finish the thought. Despite all the evidence, there’s still an ember of hope nestled deep inside of me, threatening to flare to life, to become an inferno that will consume me if I let it. My mom can’t die. The thought simply refuses to enter my mind.
Even so, she’d like it if I found somebody.
But the thought of dating makes my stomach churn. It’s impossible to know when a woman actually likes me or simply wants me for my money.
But that’s a secondary concern. The main problem is me.
No matter what I told Mom, I think she’s right. When I was a kid, what happened changed me somehow and made it difficult to feel deep loving emotions like everybody else.
I’m broken in some way, shattered. I clench my fists, feeling my forearms tense, the muscles getting taut.
I feel my body starting to shake.
Mom’s visit has stirred me up.
Is that what happened? Did my mind break when….
“Sir,” my assistant says over the intercom. “We’ve got Tokyo on the line.”
I’m glad for the interruption. It’s better than going around and around with all of this when I know there’s no solution.
No woman has even ignited it inside of me, whatever the hell it even is.
I’ll know it when I feel it. That’s what I’ve always thought.
But as the years wear on, I’m beginning to wonder if that’s a lie.
The truth could be far grimmer than I realize. I’m never going to feel it, or I’m not capable of feeling it.
What I told Mom was true. I don’t spend much time analyzing my feelings.
I’ve never even stopped to define what it is.
It’s not some Hollywood conception of romance. It’s not some skin-deep physical attraction.
It’s something else, I think, something different.
I drop into my desk chair, adjusting my collar as I set up my computer for the conference call. This is where I’m most at ease, making deals and keeping the business running flawlessly.
The rest of my life – women, children, happiness – I leave to other people.
I’ve got thousands of employees relying on me. I’ve got several subsidiaries to keep churning along. I’ve got so much work I could never think about anything personal ever again.
And yet, as I wait for the call to come through, Mom’s words niggle at my thoughts.
There could be someone out there for me.
I just haven’t found her.
Soon, I’m speaking with my contacts in Japan, able to push all of this to the side.
It’s best that way. Then I don’t have to torture myself with things that have never been. And may never be.
CHAPTER TWO
Fiona
I clutch the piece of paper to my chest, hardly able to focus on the TV, my heart drumming so hard it feels like it’s going to bust open my ribcage. That’s as dramatic as dramatic gets. I know that.
I can’t fight the feeling.
My mind won’t stop returning to Felix Franklin, CEO of the company where I work as a lowly assistant’s assistant.
Not an assistant, but somebody who helps an assistant.
I can’t complain.
It’s a job, and it helps me pay my share of the rent. I was lucky to get it since entry-level positions are fiercely sought after these days. But apparently, I aced the interview, which was a shock to me.
I guess my nervousness came over as exaggerated confidence or something.
Closing my eyes, I see Felix Franklin, who has never met me and doesn’t even know I exist. With so many employees, it’s not as though he can keep track of them all.
But I’ve seen him in photos and once or twice in person, striding across the office.
My body tingles all over when I think about his six-foot-two frame – Wikipedia can be helpful sometimes – with his wide shoulders, rock-hard chest, and pulsing muscles. His hair is silver, alluring, and he’s got the bluest, most wolfish eyes. It’s like he’s always on the hunt for something.
The next deal, the next opportunity…the next woman?
I have no clue about the last bit. He must have had girlfriends, of course. A man like him would find it difficult not to. But there’s no mention of them online.
I squeeze the piece of paper as though it isn’t a complete waste of time.
He’s so dreamy, flooding my thoughts with fantasies. I imagine walking into his office to deliver a note, which I’ve never had to do. But in the dream, he gestures to me, nodding at his lap and telling me to take a seat in a commanding tone.
I giggle in the waking dream, knowing that would never happen.
The sternness of his voice makes me shiver. He’d know exactly what to do, and then we’d….
I stop myself. I’ve indulged far too many times recently, letting my hand stray down between my legs, letting my lust hammer and burn as I imagine his firm arms wrapped around me. Then he’ll whisper in my ear that I’m beautiful, that he wants me badly, all the while his strong hand sliding up between my legs and pushing against the wetness there.
“What are you doing?”
I open my eyes to find Rachel standing over me.
My roommate and best friend couldn’t be more different from me, with her cheerleader figure, tanned shiny skin, and vibrant blonde hair. But we’ve got history, enough to fuse us together no matter how unlikely.
“What’s that?” she asks, nodding to the paper I’ve almost ruined by clutching too tightly.
I loosen my grip, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when the phone number is still readable.
“Nice,” Rachel grins. “Who’s the lucky man?”
I swallow, struggling to find the right words. For Rachel, getting a man’s phone number isn’t a big deal. It’s all part of th
e fun of life, and it weirdly hits me when she assumes it’s the same for me.
Sometimes, it’s like she doesn’t understand how different we are. It’s like she can’t understand that people – and especially men – simply don’t see us the same.
I swallow.
“It’s Felix Franklin’s personal cell phone number.”
“What?” Rachel gasps as she drops down next to me, basically tossing her work bag onto the floor. “Tell me everything.”
“I was running an errand for Julia.”
“The boss from hell,” Rachel groans.
I laugh. “I had to pick up some sushi for her. I took it to her office, but she wasn’t there. I started getting worried. You know what she’s like. Fine, maybe she’s not the absolute worst, but she can be pretty horrible. If the sushi went all icky, she might throw one of her fits.
“Anyway, I walk around her office, thinking maybe she left a note on her desk. Her computer was open, Rach. There was an email on there…from Felix. It turns out the sushi was for his mom. He’d left two phone numbers in the email, his mom’s and his, just in case she couldn’t reach him on the work line.”
My hands tremble when I remember the next bit.
“I don’t know what came over me. It was like I went into crazy autopilot mode. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and just started scribbling. I was sure she was going to come into the office.”