CEO in New York City

thighs were touching-the solid heat of it caught my attention, "is your virginity a conscious decision, or are you using it as an excuse to not get close to anyone?" "I guess maybe a little bit of both?" Jonah studied me carefully, his gaze straying from my eyes to my lips and then back up. "What are you afraid of?" That was a loaded question. If only you knew.

But seriously, with everything going on in my life, romantic relationships were way down on my list. And I mean way down. These panties were proof enough of that. I had my parents to worry about, which meant I never had time to get close to anyone. If I did, my virginity was always something I could use to push them away when things got too serious. Most of the time, I just didn't want a relationship or the emotional ties that came with it. I probably would have done the same thing tonight if another man had come along, but now, in Jonah's presence, it felt like I was throwing caution to the wind-my usual excuses were flying out the window at record speed. I mean, it wasn't like I planned on staying a virgin forever. And this guy, well, he was pretty hot. And his one-liners didn't make me want to run away. So why not give him a chance? What was the worst that could happen? Sure. I could lose my virginity to a pair of Halloween underwear. Maybe I should just play it cool and see how it goes. "There are a lot of things to be afraid of." Jonah nodded. "But if you're always afraid, you'll never live." It's a nice sentiment, I could almost believe it if I didn't think you were just saying it to get my panties off. "I wouldn't say that if I didn't." Jonah gave me a sly smile. "Besides, I don't need to resort to cheap pick-up lines to get someone into my bed."

"I'm sure you don't." - I took a sip of my drink as he sipped his, and our eyes locked. We ended up at an expensive hotel across the street from the bar. When I heard the price of the room, I nearly fainted, but Jonah paid without a second thought. His expensive clothes and Rolex had already tipped me off to his wealth, but seeing him spend hundreds of dollars for one night made me feel a little uncomfortable. I didn't have time to think about it. As soon as we walked into the room, he pushed me against the door and kissed me. He tasted like expensive whiskey and smelled like fabric softener, soap, and musk. It was an intoxicating combination of scents and flavors, and I quickly became addicted. I melted against him, grabbing his jacket to pull him closer. "Let me know if it's too much and I'll stop," he whispered in my ear as he nibbled on my lobe. His tongue licked the spot where his teeth had touched before moving down to feast on my neck. "Don't you dare." His hands were groping at my clothes, tugging at them to remove them. I did the same to him, eager to feel his warm skin against mine. By the time his hands were removing my skirt, I didn't really care about the 'panty problem' anymore. Now, they were just a small barrier between me and my fabulous and pleasurable destiny. I felt him hesitate, and then a smirk crossed his face. "Why, Naomi, you make me regret that my Three Little Pigs underwear is in the washing machine!" "I'll forgive you, as long as you brought the Big Bad Wolf." In fact, I heard him laugh like a schoolboy. The rest of the evening was a blur of new feelings and sensations. We did so much and touched each other for so long that I lost track of time. He was dominant and rough, but never malicious. I matched his roughness with my own, and when we finally collapsed, exhausted and satisfied, I was forever changed. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," he asked as we lay face to face, him stroking my hair and me laying against his chest. "Nothing," I said with relief. "For the first time in years... I'm not thinking about anything. Just this moment. Just us." Jonah touched my face, drawing me into a surprisingly tender kiss. "Nice." I tucked my head under his chin, listening to the steady drumming of his heartbeat. My fingers traced the tattoos etched into his skin, and I followed the black lines until my eyes began to droop. I dozed off before I could help it. With a sleepy groan and the beginnings of a hangover, I regained some semblance of consciousness hours later. My surroundings were unfamiliar, and it took me a good thirty seconds to remember where I was. Memories of firm hands and a distracting mouth flooded my addled brain, and I smiled at the wicked images. I'd never imagined sex could be this intense. Sure, I'd read my fair share of romance novels and heard my girlfriends talk about their sex lives, but I always thought the stories were way too exaggerated. Pushing my messy hair out of my face, I rolled over, reaching for my, well, Jonah, only to touch the cool sheets. My heart sank. I sat up and looked around the room. The only source of light came from the bustling city outside the large window. Had he left a note? Nope. A business card on the pillow? Nope. A message on the bathroom mirror? I threw back the covers and went to check. Nothing. Frustrated, I flopped back onto the bed. I should have known he wouldn't stick around. He was way out of my league.

Rich, muscular, hot, tattooed, and mesmerizing? I knew it was too good to be true. I'd acted out of character, and sure, I'd enjoyed it, but there was no fairytale ending. No, that's not me, I'll never be prom queen, the lyrics rang in my mind. 1 No that's not me / I'll never be prom queen - Catie Turner - Prom Queen I could feel myself starting to feel self-conscious and a little guilty. I pushed the feeling away. Why should I feel bad? Why should I allow him to have this power over me? It wasn't like I'd fallen in love. Me? Never. Not with him. Please, Naomi, I scolded myself, you can't be in love with someone you've just met. I decided that what I felt for him was 'first-sex affection'. A simple mix of lust and gratitude! Annoyed, I got out of bed. The room was paid for for the night, but there was no way I was going to stay there. If he could knock and leave, so could I. I got dressed as quickly as possible, and despite my disappointment and determination, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed. I hadn't expected to exchange phone numbers or anything (I had), but I'd at least earned a goodbye. Before I left, I took a moment to calm myself. What's done is done, I thought. It was fun and now it's over. When you leave, put him out of your mind and move on. That's exactly what I did. At least I tried. I really tried. I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I stepped back to admire my work. The morning sun streamed through the open garage door, catching the freshly polished metal of my motorcycle. I still needed to order a few parts, but it was looking better every day. I grabbed a rag to wipe my hands before heading back inside.

Dad was in the kitchen reading the paper, a fresh cup of coffee in front of him. It was still strange to see him in the morning. All my life, he'd always left for work at dawn. Recently retired, he took his time now. We usually had coffee together before he went out to run an errand or play golf. He greeted me with a smile and a nod before saying, "Working today?" "Yes." I walked over to the sink. "I don't have to be there until noon." "That should be nice." "Yeah, but only because I don't have to go into the office. We have a new client who wants me to handle his case personally, so I'll be working for his firm for a while." Dad looked impressed. "He must be someone important." "Mayfair Real Estate, owned by the one and only Thomas Mayfair." "Oh. Him." Dad wasn't impressed anymore. The Mayfair family was well-established in the community. They owned

wasn't impressed anymore. The Mayfair family was well-established in the community. They owned nearly half of the real estate in town. My father had worked in maintenance for forty years and had maintained several Mayfair buildings. He'd also had several run-ins with the Mayfair family patriarch and had made it clear exactly what he thought of him. However, I couldn't afford to send Mayfair away.

I would have liked nothing more than to wipe the pompous smile off his face, but unfortunately, that wasn't an option at the moment. Landing the job would cement NYC Consultants as the go-to firm for New York City's elite, which in turn would make me the most successful CEO in the company's long history. No one else had managed to attract the clients and money I had. "Like it or not, he's got money and influence." I washed my hands in the kitchen sink. "So he gets what he wants." "Kid. You've got money and influence, too." I laughed, drying my hands on a towel before picking up an empty mug. "You're not wrong, but that's how the game is played...and I intend to win." "Oh, yeah, what's the prize?" I poured myself a cup of coffee. "Whatever I want." Dad gave me a thoughtful look-the one he usually gave me when he didn't agree with something I said. "Be careful, Jonah." I rolled my eyes. "What's the fun in that?" "I'm serious," my father said, unamused.

"You don't know Mayfair as well as I do." Be smart... "And perceptive," I concluded for him. "I know what to do. I'd love to stay and talk, but if I don't get ready now, I'll be late." I grabbed the mug, raised it to my dad in a playful toast, and left to get ready. I heard my dad grumble as he went back to his newspaper. As I was walking up the stairs, my cell phone rang. I smiled when I saw a text from Jeannie. I'm leaving for New York soon! I didn't respond until I got to my room and lay down on my messy bed. Me: When? Jeannie: In a few months. Gina has an audition. Me: We'll have to meet and talk. Send me the dates. Jeannie: We'll do it! I love you! I laughed, hearing my ex-wife's cheerful voice in my head. Our marriage didn't last long, but while it did, it was some of the best years of my life. I sipped my coffee, enjoying a few moments of solitude before heading to the shower. Two hours later, I pulled into the parking lot of Mayfair Real Estate. Before I went in, I stopped to review their file on my tablet. The company had been founded fifty years earlier by Thomas Mayfair himself. He had run the business for a while before handing the reins over to his son. Tom Jr. didn't have his father's business acumen, but he still managed to turn a decent profit. However, when he left, everything changed. The current manager was Bart Dulce, a ten-year veteran of the company. I wasn't sure why the company was losing so much money. It would take a thorough investigation to find out.

I showed my card at the front desk after greeting the receptionist, and she smiled as she directed me to Dulce's offices. When I walked in, I looked around to get a first sense of the place. Everything seemed normal. Sure, the phones seemed silent, but that didn't mean anything. Several employees were standing and chatting near each other's cubicles. That wasn't a cause for concern either. Socializing was normal and helped the company feel. At the end of the day, it was how each of them did their job that mattered, not who spent five minutes talking to someone else. I walked across the carpet and felt people's eyes on me as they watched me arrive at Bart Dulce's office. I was expected, so I imagine they were also trying to form an opinion of what I looked like. I smiled at those who managed to catch my eye, and I could see their relief that I wasn't some stiff-necked idiot who would put an X on their name because I had seen them talking. In the alcove across from Dulce's office, her assistant sat in front of several chairs. It was a small waiting area hidden from everyone else. She was focused on her work, and it took her a moment to notice and acknowledge me as I approached. She smiled to welcome me, and I was struck by how that smile transformed her from a pretty woman into a beautiful woman. Her curvy frame stood out and definitely caught my eye-that and a nice pair of breasts. Her wild brown curls were pulled back into a messy bun, and loose curls framed her oval face. I was drawn to her chocolate brown eyes-they were wide when she met my gaze. "Good morning," I said. "I'm Jonah Michaels. I'm here to see Bart Dulce." She didn't speak at first, and I cleared my throat. "You..." She paused, and I watched as she nodded slightly. "Okay, of course. Mr. Michaels..."

I smiled. She seemed oddly disturbed by what must have been a completely normal workday situation. I studied her closely. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. She reminded me of someone I'd known from a long time ago. "Mr. Dulce just got a call from Mr. Mayfair," she said, a sudden sharpness in her voice. "It shouldn't be more than a minute or two." I nodded and smiled again. "Well, I'll wait then." Could I ask you a few questions now, or would you rather I wait...?" I deliberately left the question open-ended so she wouldn't feel like I was cornering her. She let out a sharp but barely perceptible sigh and narrowed her eyes in a deep glare. Her teeth actually clenched as she forced a polite smile. I was taken aback by her sudden coolness. Sure, I understood that my arrival usually signaled trouble in a company, but at this point I saw no reason for hostility. However, she seemed actively irritated. I figured I'd find out why in due time. Maybe she was worried about her job. "I'll be happy to answer any questions you have, Mr. Michaels." Satisfied, I dragged a chair over to her and sat down across from her. "Excellent. What's your name?" "Naomi." "Well, Naomi, do you know why I'm here?" "No. Enlighten me." I was taken aback. Her response was simply rude, disguised as interest. I chose to ignore her. There was obviously something else going on with her. "It's no secret that this company is in financial trouble. I'm here to fix it, if I can. I like to think I'm good at what I do, so the sooner I learn how things work around here, the sooner I can start looking for solutions."

"What can I tell you that might help?" This time, I heard real interest in her voice. "You're Mr. Dulce's assistant. An assistant usually takes over certain aspects of the business that the manager can't handle on a day-to-day basis. That means you know as much or more about certain aspects of the business than most other managers." "You must have known some pretty bad managers." She almost smiled. I smiled at that. "Let's just say no company would be in trouble if everyone was as good as they could be." She leaned forward, her eyes wide with mischief-or was that a flash of arrogance?-as if she were about to tell me a secret. "Or if the owner didn't have his head up his own ass." I was surprised and quite amused by her bold statement about Mayfair. She wasn't wrong. However, before I could say anything else, the office door opened and Mr. Dulce hurried out, looking exhausted. "Mr. Michaels, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." He held out his hand to me. "Would you please come to my office?" I looked away from Naomi to shake hands with her boss. My handshake was firm and brief. "Nice to meet you," I said, standing up.

"Naomi, it was a pleasure meeting you." With that, I followed Dulce into her office, intent on getting my mind off her assistant's intense gaze. "Actually, I asked Naomi to join us to take notes from our meeting," Dulce said. "She's a great asset and knows the firm as well as I do

to discuss is confidential." Dulce addressed her directly, but I felt like he phrased the confidentiality of the meeting more as an assurance to me. "I trust that won't be a problem." "I'm a professional," Naomi said before Dulce could add anything.

"I know how to keep confidential information confidential." Her words were innocent enough, but they didn't sit well with me. I felt like there was some information missing, like she knew something I didn't, at least not yet. "Good." I pushed the sentiment aside to focus on the matter at hand. "Let's get started, then." I gestured for them to enter the office ahead of me. When Naomi walked past, she refused to look at me. This should be interesting. Dulce's office was large but sparsely decorated. As I sat down at the round table in the center of the room, Dulce gestured to a small counter in the corner. "Can I get you anything? Some coffee? Water?" "No, thank you."

- I set my bag on the floor and picked up my tablet. - I assume you both know I wouldn't be here if the situation wasn't serious. Naomi and Dulce sat down. Naomi was directly across from me, her expression more guarded than it had been earlier. - Yes, I spoke with Mr. Mayfair this morning. - Dulce sat back in her chair. - He just briefed me on what he asked you to do. - That doesn't surprise me, - I said. - Many employers want us to make a genuine first impression when we walk in the door. - You mean they want to catch their employees off guard. I glanced at Naomi, whose disdainful expression had returned. - If they're doing what they're supposed to do, that shouldn't be a problem, right? - We're happy to help in any way we can. - Dulce interrupted. Naomi looked like she wanted to say something else, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, she set her tablet on the table and busied herself taking notes. - Could you start by sharing your accounting files with me? "I need all the sales reports, personnel files, expense reports-everything." "Of course. Naomi can provide you with everything you need." Dulce inclined her head toward her. "I'll send you the most confidential files myself." "After I review the files, I'll make some preliminary changes-small changes to help with day-to-day business. It's important that I have your support for these changes to ensure a smooth transition." "You're the expert," Dulce said. "If it helps us get back on track, we'll do whatever you suggest." "I should warn you that I don't beat around the bush. I'm required to report everything I find to Mr. Mayfair, and I'm not going to sugarcoat the truth." Naomi narrowed her eyes hard. "You sound like we did something wrong." "In my experience, when a company loses as much money as this one, it's because a lot of things were done wrong."

Still, I don't think we should jump to conclusions about incompetence or mismanagement. There are as many reasons why businesses fail as there are businesses." "I agree with that," Dulce replied. "I'm not going to sugarcoat the truth," I repeated for emphasis. "Still, I like to investigate things as thoroughly as possible." I pulled my notes out of my bag and looked at them both expectantly. "Now, could you show me around?" I didn't know why I bothered setting my alarm anymore. Mommy's cat, Schmoopes (a combination of Schmoopy and Boots-Mommy and I couldn't decide, and as a result, Schmoopes was born), was better than any alarm. Every morning, she would shove her cute, wet nose into my eyes, startling me awake. She meowed loudly. "Good morning, sweetheart," I whispered, and reached out to pet her. Only then did she stop and curl up next to me. I hugged her tightly. I had just started to doze off when I heard a thud and the squelch of little feet on the thin old carpet. I still loved him. He really ties the room together, I thought, remembering a quote from my favorite movie. When Timmy was a baby, I would always get up at dawn to feed him, and even though he was three years old now, he still loved being with me early in the morning. He would climb into my bed, a blanket over his head as he snuggled close to me. My poor babies (the cat and Timmy) probably had to cuddle with me more than they would have liked, and I allowed myself a moment of happiness. There were times when I was really down, and a day would go by and I would feel like my feet were stuck in mud. Yesterday was one of those days. I had eaten almost an entire box of cookies. And a brownie (okay, two). And half a chocolate bar.

Needless to say that my feelings were not a solution, but my usual self -control had been changed and becoming unmolding after getting home from work. - Hi, Mom.I kissed his forehead. "I know, honey." He put his thumb in his mouth and fell asleep soon after, but I wasn't so lucky. Consultants were usually not a good sign. When Bart first told me that Mr. Mayfair had hired a consultant, I expressed my concern. "I don't like the idea of ​​someone new coming into our little family and changing things." "He's just coming in to make some adjustments. There's nothing to worry about." I had believed Bart-until Jonah Michaels showed up and opened his mouth. It was bad enough coming face to face with the man who had abandoned me after that one-night stand. To make matters worse, the bastard looked better than I remembered him. Damn it! He was also the one who was going to make changes, and no good could come of that. Not for the staff, at least. Schmoopes started meowing again. Not wanting Timmy to wake up, I got out of bed to feed our little cutie. The room I shared with my son was small and cluttered. I pushed my way through her toys and headed for the door. My mother's bedroom door was ajar, and I stepped inside to check on her. Her room was full of clothes, and a finished dress hung folded over my mother's sewing machine. For years, she had taken on odd jobs here and there, doing alterations to earn extra money. A few months ago, I had helped her set up an Instagram account to showcase her work, not that she needed it. Still, she was now gaining a large following among the hipster crowd as well as her regular customers.

Her reputation was spreading to a whole new generation. Despite her success at what she did, she only had time to work at night, between taking care of Dad and babysitting Timmy for me. God only knows when she actually slept last night, I thought worriedly. She was fast asleep, so I closed the door completely, wanting her to get as much rest as possible. In the living room, Dad was sitting in his recliner, watching TV. He spent most of his time there, as walking was extremely difficult for him now. I paused on my way to the kitchen to kiss him on the forehead. "Did you get any sleep?" "A little, but not much," Dad said gruffly.

"I forgot to take my meds before bed." I picked up the dirty dishes from the side table next to him. "Why didn't you call me or Mom to help?" "I didn't want to wake the kid. Besides, you and your mom have enough to do." "We don't care, Dad, you know that." He looked at me with a slightly affronted expression. "Well, I do care." I said nothing, sensing he was in one of his moods. There was no point in dwelling on the subject. He was a