Oops! Falling in Love With my CEO by Accident!

I run my hands over the tight bun on top of my head and examine my shirt for any traces of breakfast. The atrium of this downtown building is magnificent: drooping palm trees, huge windows, and sunlight slanting across the pale marble floor. Looking up, I watch the numbers appear on the elevator panel above my head and shift the band of my suit around my waist, curling my toes to relieve the tension in my heels. Why would anyone normally wear clothes like this? I glance at the gray steel and green two-piece glasses of the receptionist. Imagine dressing like that every day.

Hmmm. Maybe a crazy hipster would have been a better choice than "cool executive" for this meeting? They'll probably all sport a tech vibe: ripped jeans and rock band t-shirts. After all, we're at Janus Industries. I straighten my spine. Why give them what they expect? I've stood out all my life – no point in changing course now, no matter how big the company. And at that thought, I can almost feel my father's exasperation.

Janus Industries. I still can't believe they called me. Why on earth would one of the most well-known tech companies in New York award a security contract to a fish out of water like me? It's not like we're well-known in the security sector.

I stare at my reflection in the glass elevator doors, biting a nail. Then a movement catches the corner of my eye, and as I glance at the polished floor to my right, my whole body freezes.

Oh.

My.

God.

As I turn around, I open my mouth and lean forward a bit to try and catch some air. A reflection appears next to mine, and just like that, I find myself a foot away from Janus Phillips, tapping his hand against his leg at a fast pace, staring at the board, fiddling with a leather bracelet on his wrist. Slowly, I turn around to see that he's already looking at me, and a huge smile spreads across his face as two dimples appear.

And, my god, he's more handsome than in the photos: messy black hair tousled on his head, thick lashes around dark brown eyes, and a smile so lopsided that one side of his mouth is much higher than the other. How is it possible for someone's mouth to do that?

My lips are pressed together, my breath still stuck in my nose. His jaw has that shadow that... He coughs, raising an eyebrow.

Shit.

Caught.

Staring.

Heat rises up my neck as my eyes return to the elevator. My damned skin is going to blotch. Ugh. I try to discreetly broaden my chest. Calm down, Jo. Why can't I just say "Hi!" like a normal person? Would that be too hard? I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. Is this encounter nerve-wracking enough to go to the top? To him? My god, this huge company and it's his. He's thirty-one and handles data for some of the world's largest organizations.

A cool designer jean hangs so low on his hips that the waistband of his boxer is visible, and I almost laugh when I see the faded logo of a rock band on the front of his T-shirt. At least he's not wearing one of those "OMG The Element of Surprise" T-shirts: I'm sick of software developers who find that funny. He's cute, but he must know it, right?

And if the gossip columns are to be believed, his type isn't techie girls like me, just a bunch of blonde models – he's always on the go with a gorgeous girl or something like that. I'm sure he has an ego the size of a planet. Given my short stature and flat chest, I can guarantee I wouldn't interest someone like him.

As I look at the status board above our heads, my right arm seems to be on fire. Thank god, the elevator is only two floors away. The silence is overwhelming until, without warning, the elevator dings loudly and I rush forward, almost bumping into the doors as they open. My god, how blotchy must I be now? I probably match my hair color.

"Easy now."

The slightly condescending tone of his voice ignites a fire in me. Is he patronizing me? He's right behind me as I step in and press the button for my floor.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I've seen you before. Do you work in marketing?" he says.

His voice is all friendly, warm, and deep. And when I turn to him, the little monkey on my shoulder decides to wake up and have some fun. Nobody patronizes me and gets away with it. That urge to poke the bear drove my father to the brink: he was constantly called to school to "talk about his daughter."

"Oh no." I pinch my lips together. "I'm here for a meeting."

He gives me a nod like people do when they're waiting for you to say more. I bet he expects me to know who he is. I bet women usually love that. Smiling, I turn away, desperately hoping the words will come before I have to say anything else. A heavy silence settles between us and he clears his throat.

"What company are you from?"

Bingo. Curiosity killed the cat, Mr. Phillips. As I turn to smile at him, I have to stop myself from doing a little victory dance at the somewhat puzzled expression on his face.

"Oh, I'm an independent contractor." I'm not exactly lying here, am I? "Why are you here?" My smile is sweet as sugar.

Janus's eyes widen slightly and he absentmindedly runs a hand through his unruly brown hair, making it stick up at crazy angles. I watch him with fascination. Is there gel in it? His hand drops to his chest in the silence that follows, and I trace his long, thin fingers, square nails.

"Oh, yeah, uh, I work here?"

Ah, very interesting. That's not the answer I would expect from someone whose ego must be as big as a planet. I thought he'd say he was Janus Phillips and give me a knowing smile. Where's all that arrogance?

"Oh, nice." I nod like a bobblehead. "It must be great to have a job here." I lean in and lower my voice. "I've heard it's super cool to work for Janus Phillips. A friend of mine knows someone who works here and said it's amazing." I tilt my head, trying not to laugh. What am I saying? Janus's jaw drops and a blush starts at the base of his neck; it makes me want to twist the knife a little more. "Have you met him?" I whisper.

He studies the floor for a moment, and when his gaze returns to mine, I'm surprised by the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, that conspiratorial glint.

"I've had a few meetings with him," he murmurs, and his eyes trace my hair and cheeks, landing on my lips.

My heart does a funny little stutter as I look at him. What am I doing? He's... He's... Well, I'm not sure what his game is actually, but I make fun of him, and he probably chases anything in a skirt. The heat on my face feels like a furnace. He will think I'm an idiot who doesn't realize who he is and, despite everything, I want this contract; doing security at Janus Industries would put my small technology consulting firm on the map.

I wouldn't come to a meeting without asking the CEO, would I? And here I am with my silly sense of humor about to completely ruin everything by playing a crazy game with the guy who will probably make the decision whether or not to use my company. Ugh. Stupid, Joe. I open my mouth to say God knows what - but I hope an apology will flow somewhere - when we come to a jerking stop and, before any of us can say anything, the doors part with a strong ping.

Janus moves around me, giving me a half-smile, which only makes things worse, before exiting the elevator.

"Nice to meet you, uh...I didn't catch your name...? » he said.

"Look, I'm sorry..." I start as the doors start to close. I frantically search for the off button, but before my hand can reach it, I'm whisked to the twentieth floor and my appointment.

The small reception desk on the twentieth floor is all glass lit in glowing triangles, and I bite the side of my nail, sweat running down my spine. The office stretches out before me like an airplane hangar, offering a breathtaking view, through the partitions, to the other side of the building. Colorful glass walls run through the space interspersed with gray steel pillars, light carpet marking the walkways between workspaces. You'd need sunglasses to look at the lime-colored sofa in reception. Wow . The vibe here couldn't be more different from the atrium downstairs, and I'd give my right arm for an office like this.

But all this overt trending isn't helping. Did I really try to take the CEO of this place in his own elevator? What is happening to me and am I bothering people? I have to find him and apologize.

My phone vibrates in my hand. Nora. Why is my finance manager calling me now?

"Nora?"

"Hey, Jo, I'm sorry to call but, uh, we're having a cash flow problem."

What? "How much is in the account? »

"About ten thousand dollars." His hollow voice echoes through my phone.

My God. Payroll goes way beyond that.

"I'm sorry but the rent had to be paid on Friday. The payroll this month is forty thousand, Jo.

I'm not saying I know. I don't say anything. The bright colors of the office hit me, success oozing from every pore. I feel like an ant. A very poor ant.

"What's the situation with Caltech's money?"

"I'm chasing, but they said three weeks at early ."

Oh my god . The bank won't lend me a cent – I've been down this road before.

I lower my voice to a whisper and take a few steps away from the reception. "Look at the credit cards, Nora, see if we can borrow anything," I said.

She sounds like she's been crushed under someone's heel, and I don't blame her. Cards are a terrible idea, but what options do I have? Here I am hanging on by my nails.

"Sorry, I know it's a bad idea, but it's all I have right now. I have to go and give this presentation.

"Sorry, Jo, and good luck! Fingers crossed. This could solve all our problems.

Yeah. RIGHT. I hang up and slip my phone into my pocket. Do unicorns work with ants? Or do they just trample them?

I scrutinize the receptionist's oversized plaid shirt, her lip piercing, and her knit hat that moves as she types.

"Is Janus Phillips coming to this meeting?" I blurt, and his gaze turns to me, resting where my hands are now clutching my laptop case. Damn.

"I'm sorry, Miss Williams, I don't know." She gives me a soothing smile. "This is Bob Sugar now," she says, pointing to the red carpet that runs straight through the offices, from one end of the office to the other. "I'm sure he can answer all your questions."

I groan inwardly as a tall man with peppery hair walks towards me. My arms are wet, a burning heat in my body, just before one of the biggest meetings of my life. Great.

Be professional.

Be professional.

Be professional.

If I repeat it enough in my head, maybe it will happen. Then Bob is in front of me, holding out his hand and bringing me back to reality.

"Jo Williams!" His serious face is all wide smiles. "It's good to see you again! I hear your business is doing well. You come highly recommended.

I'm doing well ? My whole body tenses. He wouldn't say that if he saw how empty our bank account was. But anyway, did someone recommend me to Bob? After the fiasco that I'll now call the elevator incident , the very idea that I was somehow selected... I feel nauseous. Can't I find better behavior somewhere? I put on my best professional smile and extend my hand.

"Me?" God, even my voice sounds wrong. "Good to hear. Good to see you too, Bob. You were a legend when I was in college.

Janus poached Bob from one of the top tech universities in the country, and he has a reputation as a genius at managing people and projects. He's close friends with my old professor at NYU, so we've crossed paths once or twice before. He's the kind of guy who hums as he walks down a hallway, tilts his head as he listens. A safe pair of hands. Lucky Janus. Des and James lead my small team and I love them immensely, but I also know that we are all young and inexperienced.

His eyes drop to the floor as if the reception carpet held hidden secrets, then he moves, giving me a broad dismissal gesture.

"Okay, okay, enough mutual pats on the back. Did anyone buy you a cup of coffee?

"I'm fine, thanks," I say, and we walk through desks and walls, past a large kitchen area where two guys are hitting balls on a ping-pong table. "Um, is Janus Phillips joining this meeting?"

Bob smiles at me. "This man is his own law. It's on his calendar and it should be there. Whether it is is another matter. Have you met him?

Condemn. "Um, not officially. Actually..." I should say something about the elevator problem, right? If Janus shows up at the meeting and...

Bob lets out a little groan. "He has a certain reputation, which is not undeserved I might add, but he is an outstanding entrepreneur and boss. I love him very much.

Oh my God, really? That's high praise coming from him. I remember the smirking amusement from earlier, the head down, the knowing look in Janus's eyes as he scanned my body: Bob admires someone like that? I'm probably not hiding the surprise, because Bob frowns and waves his hand again.

"The media prints a lot of nonsense. The rumors about him are terrible. He smiles. "Oh! Being thirty and single again.

This makes me laugh.

"Bob, I'm sure you don't really mean that. You and Mandy are a legend.

Mandy is his wife, and the story of how they supported each other early in their careers is tech industry folklore. They are totally devoted to each other. No one has ever tolerated my quirks like that. Bob's eyes sparkle.

"It's good to know that I have a certain reputation myself, even if it's different. But to answer your previous question, Janus did say that he intended to join us, to meet you.

His last sentence makes my stomach turn over. I just met him, I think, and it didn't really go well.

Bob's smile fades and a small frown appears. "We are concerned about the security breach, Jo. We need to get to the bottom of things and quickly. We have international customers who rely on us.

We stop in front of the open door of a meeting room, sunlight spilling onto the light gray carpet. As I cross the threshold and meet three pairs of curious eyes, I breathe a huge sigh of relief when Janus's is not among them.

JO

B

ob stands up and taps his pen on the polished table. "Okay, guys. Let me introduce you to Jo from Williams Security . He gives me a half-smile. "She will give us a brief introduction to her business, then we will discuss how she could help us. Jo, we talked a little on the phone about the people here. This is Matt, our head of internal security.

I look at the mop of blond hair, the ever-present band T-shirt and ripped jeans, and he winks at me as he leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. I do an internal eye roll.

"And this is Delia, Systems Management Manager."

"Hi, Delia."

I give him a small wave, then hastily place my hand on the wood of the conference table. Ugh . I'm not making things better. Delia has a hipster messy blonde thing. As she examines the clothes I'm wearing from head to toe, it's clear she doesn't think I bear any of the characteristics of someone who works in technology, let alone my ability to understand business issues. complex security. The way her mouth twists makes me think she's decided to put me in the box of trivial idiots – a box I'm starting to think I deserve you. Great. Between her and Janus, that will be two votes against me. At least Bob will be in my favor, and maybe Matt, the mophead. I turn to the third person at the table, a beautiful brunette woman.

"This is Amanda, who runs our legal department."

"Hi, Amanda. Delighted to meet you. I smile enthusiastically. She smiles back at me, with that discreet look that some stuck-up people have, and slides me a document. Jesus.

"I need you to sign the non-disclosure agreement before we begin."

"No problem." I nod. This is standard fare for security issues that no one can fix and are afraid of. Nobody wants the media to hear about it. Silence settles in the room as I scan the document for any unusual clauses - like harassment of the CEO, I think as my stomach tightens - before signing in grand style.

"Great," I said, smiling while trying to get my plummeting confidence back up from the floor. "Should I start?"

A loud voice rings outside the door and silence falls as all eyes turn to her.

"Yes, Pete, I know , it's a fucking disaster. I want everyone to work on it 24 hours a day." This is followed by a loud "Damn!", and the door swings heavily on its hinges, the wood hits the wall with a bounce, and a clearly agitated Janus Phillips strides in.

"Sorry, everyone." His eyes dart across the table, running a hand through his hair. "This is such a messed up situation..."

His words stop as his eyes land on me. A small frown appears between his brows, and I'm drawn in by his unsmiling face and the straight line of his lips. I'm hanging on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the earth to collapse beneath my hands, breath cemented in my chest, trying to soothe the burning blush that wants to rise to my face. He opens his mouth, closes it, reopens it.

"Um..." And then his expression starts to be replaced with something that looks a lot like amusement.

"Hi," he says, as his face transforms into this breathtakingly lopsided smile, and he extends his hand towards me. "You must be Jo Williams?"

"Nice to meet you," I said, taking a calming breath and awkwardly struggling to get up from my seat to reach across the table. His eyes dance over me, and the way they sparkle and crinkle at the sides catches me deep inside. My God, it's beautiful.

" The Jo Williams, huh?" he said, nodding. "Nice to meet you properly." His lips curl slightly as he turns his attention to the room. "Where are you?" And in the blink of an eye, his fun and joviality transform into lively dynamism.

"Jo was going to tell us a little bit about her story, and then we were going to talk about the issue at hand," Bob said slowly, his warm calm clearly adding salt to Janus's good humor.

"Yeah yeah." Janus runs his hand through his already unruly mop of hair. "We understand what a fucking genius she is: we've all seen her resume and know what she's done to fix Caltech. Bunch of idiots. Let's move on to the sorting part, shall we?

Someone coughs in the silence. Everyone studies their laptops while I stare at them wide-eyed. What CV? The one where I managed to get into college by the skin of my teeth? And Caltech . Phew. Six months ago, they called on us to look into security issues with their poorly designed network. We fixed the problem, but it was a huge headache.

And he doesn't seem angry with me at all – just very amused and terribly impatient. As if things couldn't happen fast enough for him. I snort internally. I don't know how he's going to deal with me, I'm the most methodical person on the planet.

"Okay," Bob said, breaking the silence. "Matt, do you want to start telling Jo a little history about our systems and how they evolved into the current architecture?"

Here we go. I take out my notepad and colored pens and, while they answer my questions, occasionally chatting about structure, I draw a diagram of their system. The network begins to take shape as I make connections, highlighting in red and green where I think it's okay, where it's weak, and where it needs further investigation. After three hours, my little map is quite detailed. Time passed quickly.

"Do we know how they got into the system? » I ask.

Matt cleared his throat. "Still unknown. We're going through all this data now. It could be particular hardware, software, or something that got through our defenses, like malware or a phishing email.

As Matt reviews the data he has and what he's looking at, Janus stands up to glance out the window, then comes to stand behind me, leaning slightly over my shoulder and looking at me. add notes to the map. He watched what I did throughout the meeting, and my writing faltered as he moved to place his hand on the table near my wrist. I look sideways at the strong muscles running down to the long, expressive fingers, the curl of dark hair on his arms. I try to look at him and heat begins to rise in my chest. He looks at the pad, his face serious as his eyes scan the paper. Then his unsmiling gaze lands on mine and I'm treated to his warm brown eyes scanning my face, dipping to the redness of my neck, and my tongue sneaks out to wet my bottom lip as his eyes dart to She. What will everyone think if they catch him doing this? I return my eyes to my map. Maybe he does it all the time. Maybe he doesn't even realize he's doing it. Maybe I'm flirting unintentionally too.

"I've heard a lot about your security technique," he said suddenly, a long finger stretching out to tap the side of my keyboard. And his tone is tinged with sarcasm.

I look at my diagram and suddenly I'm hot all over. This is a billion dollar company that operates worldwide, and all I have for a global network like this is a piece of paper and some colored pens? And mess around in the elevator? Really ? What am I thinking ? Janus Phillips is... is... like THE person in tech right now. Janus Industries could solidify our reputation in the field of security. My blush rises higher, and I blink once, twice, then take a deep breath. This is a client. He has the right to ask questions.

"I take notes this way," I say, but I can't get the stiffness out of my voice.

As I turn to look at his face, I realize two things: first, he didn't miss my mortification, and second, I completely misinterpreted his comment. He doesn't judge me. His face is open and relaxed; he is really interested. I groaned internally. This is professional attire. Presumably Bob told him about me before the meeting and he just wants to understand how I work. A small frown appears between his eyebrows, a cold distance crosses his face, and I curse the terrible chip on my shoulder that is doing me no favors. He probably thinks I'm a real idiot now. I'm desperate for something to save the day.

"You know what they say, it's never that remarkable for the one who does it." I turn my head towards him, my eyes widening. I hope he understands.