Page 21 of Mr. Hotshot CEO

There are two doors in the room in addition to the one that leads to the hall. I poke my head in the first one and find a walk-in closet. Now, I’m not one of those women who’s particularly excited by walk-in closets, but I can still appreciate a nice one.

However, it’s nothing compared to what’s behind the other door.

An en suite washroom with a Jacuzzi and a shower I’ve never seen the likes of before. There are multiple shower heads, and... My God, you could have some really great sex in here.

At that thought, I duck my head and turn back toward the bedroom. Unfortunately, I run smack into Julian, and for the first time, I get a sense of what’s under that suit.

Muscle. Definitely lots of muscle.

“Um,” I say, stepping back. “This is all very nice. Lovely. Impressive. But...” God, he’s distracting. It’s hard for me to talk properly right now. “I’ll need to return to my apartment soon to get my stuff—my clothes and other things.”

“Of course. We can do that tomorrow morning. Until then, there are toothbrushes, toothpaste, floss, and other essentials in your washroom.”

“What will I wear to bed?”

As soon as I utter those words, I clamp my hand over my mouth. I don’t need to be thinking about that when he’s in the room with me. I don’t needhimto be thinking about that.

I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

I wonder if he’s going to make a comment about me sleeping in the nude.

He scratches the back of his neck. “I can lend you one of my T-shirts for the night.”

Strange to think of Julian wearing something as basic as a T-shirt, but of course he doesn’t wear suits 24/7.

I nod briskly. “Great. That works. Now, could you give me a few minutes alone so I can call my sister and tell her where I am?”

He exits the room without another word.

I sit down on the bed and take a moment to catch my breath. God, this is really happening. I’m spending the next two weeks in a luxury penthouse. Two weeks with this incredible view.

I pull out my phone and call Naomi.

She answers on the first ring. “Courtney, what’s wrong?”

“Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“Because you never call—you always text—and it’s ten o’clock at night.”

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just spending the night with a guy and thought I should give you his info in case anything happens.” I provide his name and address.

“Julian Fong,” Naomi says. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Fong Investments. He’s Charles Fong’s son, and he runs it now.”

“You’re sleeping with a CEO?”

I pull the phone away from my ear. “Could you take your voice down a notch? And we’re not sleeping together.”

“Then why on earth are you spending the night with him?”

“Actually, it’s more than one night...” It takes me five minutes to explain the strange events that have led to this point.

“Right,” Naomi says. “I see. Except I don’t really see.”

“I’m getting five thousand dollars for doing almost nothing. I’ll give the money to you, and you’ll be able to afford our trip to New York City this fall! Isn’t that great?”

“Courtney, you don’t need to get the money for me. If New York is that important to you, I can try to figure something out, okay?”