Chasing the CEO (The CEO Duet, #1)

by Campos, Cecilia

  “Okay, good. Then let’s talk about guilt.”

  “Yes, go on.” This man is full of new insights. I have never met anyone that knows everything so well. Who’s thought so thoroughly about these kinds of things and formed an opinion on them. It’s fascinating.

  “Feeling guilty is an emotion that leads to bad things, Stellina. It makes you do things you normally wouldn’t do. It’s not productive, because people who feel guilty, will go looking for a way to make peace with what they’ve done. Guilt is a way to punish yourself. Because you punish yourself, you will feel worse about yourself. That makes you do things you normally wouldn’t do. Which will make you feel even more guilty ... it’s a vicious circle that never ends. So, you need to stop that. You need to realize that you did the best you could under the circumstances, and then let go of that feeling of guilt. Even if you had been that trucker who crashed into your car—which is not the case, but even if it were—you would have done the best you possible could at that moment under those circumstances. Capisci?”

  “Yes, I think I understand. You’re a pretty smart guy, aren’t you?”

  “Nope. I just had plenty of less happy feelings in my life, so I have a lot of experience. Though I wish I didn’t have to go through them. But I believe that all experiences contribute to how you grow as a human being. Apparently, I needed to do a lot of growing in my life. But the happy and less happy moments in my life only helped me become the man I am today, and to be here with you now. So, all considered, I can only be grateful.”

  With a sigh, he takes both my hands and kisses them. “So, enough is enough, Nina. Enough. From now on, you will let me guide you, and I say it’s enough.” His strong hands pull me into him.

  “I need you,” I admit, although I don’t really know what I need right now. Do I need his friendship? His understanding? His guidance? His intelligence? Or merely his physical presence? His hands and his mouth and the way he makes me feel?

  “Let me in, Stellina. Into your heart and into your head.”

  “I can only offer you my body,” I say sincerely. I don’t have anything else to offer right now.

  “I will take that too, Nina. But first, I will give you something right now.”

  His hands find my breasts and he starts massaging them. Hard. There is no hesitation. He understands me without me having to explain anything, and I let it happen. He kisses my lips again and his tongue is exploring my mouth hungrily. I let it happen too. His fingers do magical things between my legs. I let that happen as well.

  He makes all my feelings of guilt disappear. He sets free all my sorrows. He runs his hands through my hair and lets his scent crawl into my nose. He lets the stubble on his face rub my skin and lets me see little stars in front of my eyes.

  I let it all happen.

  If my life were a highway, I would be lost now.

  SEBASTIAN

  I try to get a grip on myself. It took me by surprise I got this emotional. Normally, I am very capable of keeping my emotions in check. I don’t know what it is about this woman. She stirs feelings in me I managed to keep locked away for all these years. Maybe it’s the way she looks at me with those expressive eyes. She can see right through me, breaks through all of my carefully constructed walls. Walls like skyscrapers that protect me and help me survive.

  I gave her what she needed. A shoulder. Understanding. A different way of thinking. But words will never be enough for my Stellina. It’s the warmth of my hands, my lips, my body that she longs for. I sensed she understood, that I would take over from this point on. That she can lean on me. That I will be the light in her darkness.

  After giving her a few minutes to catch her breath, I say, “Let’s get on the road again, babe. This load will not drive itself to Ingolstadt.” With this, I close the subject for now. I can see she still doesn’t believe the depth of feeling I have for her. I guess I’ll just have to prove it to her then.

  Chapter 19 – Do your thing

  NINA

  Once back on the road, I try to relax. Everything Cowboy told me—about my parents, his childhood, about his relationship with the mafia—is kind of ... a lot. It all seems so unreal. But he’s right, I have to take this load to its destination, so I try to let go of all my doubts, so I can do my job.

  As for my feelings concerning my parents’ death ... it’s one thing to know it wasn’t my fault, but a whole other to actually feel that way too. My head and my heart don’t agree on this subject, but he seems to understand. He seems to understand me, and he seems to want to help me.

  I turn on Spotify and the music helps me let go of everything. Cheerfully, I start singing along with the song, a very sexy, up-tempo beat.

  “What’s this song called?” he asks me, curious.

  “Doe je ding,” I reply, laughing. “That means ‘Do Your Thing’ in Dutch. It’s from Loekoe, do you know it?”

  “Yeah, sure, Loekoe!” His reply has a sarcastic edge.

  “You don’t?” I take my eyes off the road for a moment to look at him.

  “No,” he replies sincerely. “Dutch music is not really my thing.”

  “Oh. What is your thing then?” Judging from the way he looks at me now, he likes my curiosity.

  “I’m more of a nineties guy. At the moment, mostly country. I used to be a huge fan of rock music and ballads. You know, Europe, Bon Jovi, Whitesnake.”

  “Oh, that explains your long hair.”

  “Well, that actually has little to do with that. Speaking of which ... what do you think of my long hair anyway?”

  “It looks good on you, although I normally like men with short hair. I don’t really get the long hair. I mean, you always have it tied in a ponytail, so you might as well cut it, don’t you think?”

  “You have a point. I think that my long hair gives me the feeling that I’m in control of things, because I decide to wear it long.”

  The look I give him says it all; I think it’s bull. “But if you wear it short, you can decide when to cut it again as well, don’t you?”

  “Also a valid point.” He looks very serious now and a little panicky.

  “What’s wrong? Why the long face?”

  “Because this conservation is going in the wrong direction, Nina. You see, in order for me to make you understand why my long hair is so important to me, I will have to tell you more about myself, but it’s still too early for that. It’s not a nice story, and I think you have heard plenty of ugly stories today already.”

  He pauses, then quickly adds, “Prince. I’m also a fan of Prince. You know ‘Purple Rain’?”

  “Of course I do, but you won’t get away with it so easily. I want to know more about your control-freaky attitude with regards to your hair. So spill it.”

  “Oh, you think I’m a control freak?”

  “Of course I do. I don’t know much about you, but it did notice that you love to be in control, yes. Like I said, spill.”

  “When I was little, we lived in a small town. You know what it’s like in small towns—everybody watches each other. The moment you deviate the slightest bit from what is normal or socially accepted, life gets hard for you. Our family did everything they could to be accepted. We went to church every Sunday, our front yard was always neat, there were no weeds anywhere, and our sidewalk was always spit spot. My hair was always short; my mother cut it herself. She was not a hairdresser, so my haircuts weren’t exactly top-notch. Every two weeks, she would cut my hair again; I hated it. It was hell for me. Sitting immovable. The straightjacket. Pretending to be someone you’re not.”

  I can sense that this is just a small part of the whole story, but I don’t want to pressure him into telling me the rest. Maybe he’s right and I’ve heard enough ugly stories for one day. However, I can’t help asking, “Then who were you, if you weren’t yourself? You can only ever be yourself, can’t you?”

  “No, Stellina. Many people don’t live their lives as themselves. They’re afraid of what people might think of them. T
hat they won’t fit in. That they will be rejected or bullied when they show their true colors. It happens everywhere, but in a small town like mine, it’s an even bigger truth.”

  “You were not allowed to wear your hair long when you were little. Now that you’re grown, you choose to wear it long. It’s kind of adolescent reaction, don’t you think?” He should be offended by my comparing him with an adolescent. Maybe this time, I’ve gone too far. He reacts calmly, however.

  “Yes, I’m adolescent and a control freak. Those two words, that’s me. Does that scare you off?”

  “Not at all. We all have our things. I’m emotionally frivolous and unreasonable. That’s me, those two words. Oh wait, three. Does that scare you off?”

  “No. I like that about you. But I don’t think frivolous and unreasonable are the correct words, though. I love people who have passion. Who dare speak their minds. Who are brave enough to be themselves and who don’t care what other people think of them. I’m like that too.”

  “Yes, but my emotional outbursts can sometimes be ...”

  “Be what?” he asks while I try to formulate the right adjective.

  “Inappropriate. In Holland, we say ‘just act normal, that’s crazy enough.’ Sometimes, I struggle sticking to that, because my Italian temper is not normal here.”

  “I like it, this Italian temper of yours.”

  “Well, it’s good to know that you like my inappropriateness, but hey, we all do our thing, don’t we?” I turn the volume up and start singing along with the lyrics. I don’t think he understands all the lyrics, about closing your eyes and doing your thing, since they’re all in Dutch, but he seems to enjoy it nevertheless. He unties his hair and starts head-banging to the music, laughing. I laugh too, and continue to sing. Fantastic.

  AFTER WE PARKED THE truck in a trucker park in Germany, he holds my hand while we take Gnocchi for a walk. It feels a little awkward, his hand in mine, but his grip is strong. He doesn’t care that I have doubts. He has none; he never does when it comes to me.

  “Isn’t that bit childish? Holding hands?” I roll my eyes at him.

  “You know I’m an adolescent, right? So, this fits perfectly, don’t you think?” He looks at me and adds, “I thought you didn’t care what people think? If they think this is childish, it‘s their problem, not mine. When we’re walking somewhere, I want to hold hands with you.”

  Suddenly, Gnocchi starts pulling at the leash, in the direction of a parked Tesla. He wants to go there, but I pull him back.

  “Does he know that car?” He pets my pit bull on his head, trying to soothe him.

  “Yes, that’s Tim’s car.” The words tumble out of my mouth, sounding apologetic. That was not my intention. My cheeks turn pink and reveal my shame.

  “He’s one of your sexcapades?” His eyebrows shoot up and his eyes quickly find mine.

  “Yes.” Bloody mess in a mess. I hope we don’t run into Tim in the restaurant. That would be awkward.

  “I thought sexcapades were one-time events only? How come Gnocchi knows that car so well then?”

  “Tim has always been a bit of an exception to the rule ...” I look at my feet. If there is one thing I do not want to talk about, it’s my sexcapades with other men.

  “No need to feel ashamed. He was part of your life. I too have a past that I need to part with. I understand.” He presses my hand, which is still in his, against his lips and kisses it lightly while we walk.

  After Gnocchi does his thing, the three of us walk into the restaurant for a bite to eat. Gnocchi walks up to the special doggy corner to lie down in one of the doggy beds. I know everyone here and enthusiastically greet everybody, while I point at a table next to the window.

  I quickly scan all the tables, but Tim is nowhere to be found. Thank you, God. When I sit down, I expect Cowboy to sit across from me, but he doesn’t. I look up at him, surprised, when he takes his chair and places it next to mine.

  In no time, his hand is on my bare thigh, squeezing it. I smile at him. “You can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

  “I have wanted to do that the whole time, but it seems a bit dangerous to distract you like that while you were driving.”

  I suddenly get the feeling we’re being watched, so I turn around and see Tim sitting at another table. He’s staring at us. Toadstools with noodles ... He’s here after all! What the hell is going on today, with everything getting so out of hand? My God. Now what?

  Keep it together, Nina. Simply keep it together. He’s just one of your sexcapades. Nothing to be ashamed of.

  Cowboy senses my nervousness. He’s even smiling a little to himself over my discomfort, the jerk. A yummy jerk, though.

  He starts caressing my thigh with his thumb. He watches the process while he does it and then looks at me with those honey-colored eyes, that make my panties melt.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend? Tim?”

  “Um ... yes, okay,” I reply, but I don’t sound so sure at all. “But he’s no friend of mine.”

  “Oh, sorry, my mistake. He cannot be your friend, because you’re just fucking him,” he states dryly.

  That tone ... dripping with sarcasm. He thinks they are bullshit, my sexcapades. Or he disagrees with them. Or he disapproves of them. I guess all of that’s true. But it’s not his place to judge me. Who does he think he is, speaking his verdict on my life like freaking Judge Dredd? Did I ever ask his opinion? Didn’t think so.

  “Exactly! You got that right, I’m fucking him, yes! So he cannot be my friend. You’re a quick learner!” Shit, that came out more harshly than I intended. But I’m pissed and cannot contain myself. That’s the Italian temper I warned him about. Let’s see how much he enjoys it now!

  Next to me, I hear someone cough. I turn around and it’s Tim. Poop salad with gorgonzola sauce ... I get up quickly to give him a hug. I can only hope he didn’t hear me. He hugs me back and when he releases me, his gaze wanders to Cowboy, who slowly rises to shake his hand.

  “Hello, I’m Sebastian. Nice to meet you. She doesn’t fuck me so that must mean I am her friend,” he says cheerfully, like that’s a normal thing to say to someone you meet for the first time. Whether you’re banging Nina or not ... “It’s not that she doesn’t want to fuck me, though. Actually, she can’t wait. But we made a deal, you see. So ... no fucking for now.” Jesus... can’t he just shut up?

  “Oh,” Tim says. Yes, I wouldn’t know how to respond to that either, but he recovers quickly. “Glad to hear it.” He switches to English and coughs in an uncomfortable way. Cowboy pulls back a chair for him and points at it with an inviting gesture. Tim sits, continuing the conversation in English when he asks Cowboy, “You’re from America, right?”

  I don’t allow Cowboy to reply; he’s said enough. “He is. He’s a colleague from America and a friend of mine.”

  “Okay. Nina, I’m actually glad I ran into you, I’ve got something important to tell you.”

  He brings out his cell phone and starts scrolling through pictures. Proudly, he shows me a picture of him with a beautiful girl. I take the device from him and study the picture.

  “This is Suzanne.” In the picture, he has his arms around a tall girl. She has wild curls, just like me, but bright blue eyes. They are both looking into the camera with very happy faces.

  “Good-looking girl,” I say admiringly, handing the phone over to Cowboy, so he can have a look too.

  “It all happened very fast. We moved in together and if it’s up to me, we will get married soon too.”

  “Wow! Congratulations!”

  “Thanks. You could call it an instant love.”

  “Instant love?”

  “You know, fast. Like instant coffee? But I’m sure she’s the one, Nina. So, I wanted you to know, because ...you know... you and I have to stop seeing each other now.”

  “Fucking,” Cowboy interrupts shamelessly. “You have to stop fucking.” Why does he have to be so rude?

  “I under
stand.” It’s all I can get out.

  “But, even if you wouldn’t have had plans to move in with someone, Nina wouldn’t have been able to fuck you anymore either way,” Cowboy continues matter-of-factly, as if this topic of conversation is the most normal thing in the world.

  “Wouldn’t I?” I can’t refrain from acting surprised at this. Who the hell does he think he is, speaking for me like that! I decide who I do or don’t fuck, not him!

  Tim is obviously feeling uncomfortable now. “Okay ... I understand. Anyway, good luck with ... everything.”

  “Yes, you too, Tim.” I get up and give him a hug. He hugs me back, but it’s very quick. He wants to get away as soon as possible. I can’t blame him.

  Once it’s just the two of us again, I am very irritated and fuming. I don’t want to cause a scene right here in the middle of the restaurant, where there are so many people that I know and bump into on a regular basis. So, I take a deep breath to calm myself.

  The waitress comes to take our order and I get my usual. Cowboy wants what I have. The meal is served soon, and we eat in silence. It’s a very long silence. I am too angry to speak and I just know I won’t be able to hold back my temper. So, I take a bite, chew, and swallow. I only look at my plate, but I can feel his gaze on me the whole time.

  As a matter of fact, I want to get out of here. I don’t want to eat anymore. I don’t want Cowboy in my truck anymore, but getting up, walking out, and driving off without him is not an option. I can’t leave him here. Can I?

  The fact that Tim is seeing someone doesn’t affect me much. I’m not jealous or anything. Tim was just an adventure, and it was nice while it lasted. I’m happy for him. I’m having an adventure with Cowboy and after Cowboy, there will surely be lots of others to have fun with. It doesn’t affect me at all. Really. I don’t want a traditional relationship. I don’t want one steady partner. I don’t doubt my choices at all. I’m doing A-okay. Really.

  “Are you mad at me?” His voice cuts through the silence.