Page 50 of Texting My Secret CEO
I pretend to be outraged. But I’m laughing. It’s like I can hear his husky, sarcastic voice.
DakkyDuck: Patient and OBEDIENT?
DakkyDuck: You wish.
TheRealCreator: No, I don’t. I want you sassy. Wild. I want you unimpressed. I want you… you.
Another smile takes hold of me, wide, carefree, and probably goofy.
DakkyDuck: I love surprises. But remember, you don’t have to buy me.
TheRealCreator: If I do something extravagant, it’s because I want to see you smile. Nothing else. Feel free to tell me and my goblin dick to get away from you.
I laugh hard, wiping a tear from my eye.
DakkyDuck: That’s easier said than done.
CHAPTER 18
JACKSON
On Monday, when I walk toward the elevator at six PM, Elena approaches me. “Taking it easy today, sir?” she asks, standing at the elevator with me.
I frown at her. She’s annoyed at her promotion being passed up—for now—which is fair enough. But she’s veering into insubordinate territory with comments like this.
“Excuse me?” I ask, voice gruff.
She smirks, holding my gaze. Where is this sudden confidence coming from? There’s no way she can know about me and Dakota, and even if she did, what can she do with the information? A falling stock price because of a PR scandal won’t help her.
Is she working her way up to full-blown blackmail? What’s her angle?
Or am I overthinking?
“It’s nice,” she says a moment later, seeming confused. Suddenly, her smirk looks more like a smile. “You need time to refresh. I’m sorry if I came across in a way I didn’t mean.”
I nod. “You didn’t, Elena. It’s just the work. We’re getting there, though. Have a good evening.”
“You too, sir.”
I walk into the elevator and press the button for the bottom floor. She lingers for too long. As the doors close, the smirk returns. I’m almost certain of it.
Or you’re getting paranoid.
I’m not sure that’s solid reasoning. If Pete were able to sense that something happened between me and Dakota, surely somebody else could too. I raced from the event to be with her. I’ve been texting her nonstop. I’m changing the game based on her notes.
It’s like we’ve already formed a deep bond, something far beyond the few weeks since we started messaging. Life seems brighter. More hopeful. Can people see that, sense it?
But if she doesn’t have any evidence, what can she do?
As the limo pulls up outside the office, I spot a few of my workers glancing over, curious. Someone across the street aims their phone at me for a photo. I put on my usual grumpy face—which is not a challenge—and get inside the limo.
Is that another clue?Why is the usually asocial Jackson Cross in a limo when he isn’t attending an event?
Sometimes I hate being a famous.
My mood lightens as the driver guides us through the city, toward her apartment. Dakota has done well for herself,building a big, loyal fanbase. Her apartment is just a short ride from the office. I feel pride for something I had no hand in. Is this what falling feels like?
I leave the limo and press her apartment buzzer. Her voice comes across a moment later, bright and happy. Maybe a little nervous. “Hey?”
