My Possessive C.E.O.

Chapter 18 - We Meet Again

I suddenly found it hard to breathe. I tried to reach for the door to run away, but my legs forbid me to move. His blue eyed intense stare kept me paralyzed.

“James…” I whispered, with a hint of shakiness in my voice. It was obvious how nervous I was.

I notice he was back to normal, in a crisp navy suit, hair styled neatly, and clean shaven. The polar opposite of what drunkenly stumbled in my apartment last night.

He moves towards his desk, pulling out his oversized plush chair, taking a seat. “Please, make yourself comfortable Ms. Andrews. We have much to discuss.” As he gestures toward a couch in front of him, business professional tone on point.

After a few moments of silence, still unable to physically move my body, he adds. “… And you’re not leaving until we are finished here.”

There he is. That’s the bossy asshole I know. He knows exactly what to say to piss me off.

Suddenly, my body is getting warm. “Excuse me?! What, you think you can keep me hostage here or something?” waving my hands around the room.

James lets out a small smirk, while leaning back in his chair gracefully, positioning his hands behind his head. He looks so relaxed, as I’m on edge.

“As far as your boss is concerned, you are discussing very important documents with a… ‘future business partner’ as we speak. It would be a shame for you to lose your job if you left here early without that contract you need…”

This motherfucker. He really stooped that low.

“You... You-“ I tried to reply, fighting the anger boiling in my system.

“That’s right Carmen, I called your boss to send you over here because we need to talk.”  James interrupted.

At this point, there was no holding back. He purposefully intruded on me at my job, my safe place, away from him, and somehow managed to manipulate his way in.

“Talk about WHAT James?! What is there to talk about?! You think you can just send me some lovey dovey bullshit photos and show up at my apartment drunk, telling me you ‘need me’ and you’re an ‘emotional wreck’ blah blah blah SHUT the fuck up James! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

His jaw is ticking. He’s infuriated. Good, because I am too. And I’m not done yet.

“I swear to god you are the most difficult man I have ever encountered, but at the same time you are so sweet, and gentle… it drives me insane. Who are you? Pick one! Are you bipolar or something?!”

That was it. He had enough.

Suddenly in one swift motion, all the contents of his desk are shoved off into the floor, glasses breaking, papers flying, and his coffee spilling all over the carpet. His fist are clenched, as he slams his desk. He immediately ignores the mess and abruptly leaves the table heading for the door.

My hands cover my mouth, eyes wide with fear. Within seconds he demolished his office.

He storms out of the room, slamming the door so hard 2 picture frames fall, shattering as they crash on the floor.

I stare at the destruction in front of me. It all makes sense. This beautiful, confusing, man wasn’t mysterious at all. He was bipolar, and he knew it.