Page 94 of Mr. Hotshot CEO

Her face falls. “I’m sorry. He’s in a lunch meeting.”

Right. People like Julian Fong have things like lunch meetings. He doesn’t need me to bring him food.

I look at the bag, then turn back to Priya. “Want some soup dumplings?”

One of the delicate dumplings broke on my trip to Fong Investments, but otherwise, they’re good. Priya has never had soup dumplings before, but she likes them. We split a pineapple bun, and I save the other for Julian. At first, I’m a little jealous of this young, attractive woman who works with Julian all day. However, it soon becomes clear that although she’s fond of him, it’s not likethat. In fact, it sounds like she thinks of him as an older brother, and when she mentions her boyfriend, the last prickle of doubt I had is erased.

“Next time,” she says, “you should call me first, and I’ll let you know if he’s available.”

Julian strides in a little after one o’clock. He stops when he sees me by Priya’s desk.

“Courtney?” he says, like he’s not sure it’s actually me, like he’s confused to see me in this part of his life.

I jump up. “I, um, brought you lunch, but Priya told me you had a lunch meeting, so we shared the soup dumplings, and...here.” I thrust a paper bag toward him. “Here’s your pineapple bun.”

My boyfriend is wearing a pinstripe suit, and I’m wearing the casual clothes I usually wear to the lab. He smiles at me. “I think I have three minutes until my next meeting.”

I can’t help feeling disappointed. I came all this way to see him, waited half an hour, gave away his dumplings, and now he only has three minutes for me.

But really, it’s my fault for not calling first.

He ushers me into his office, and as soon as he closes the door, his mouth is on mine.

Yes, that’s better.

He pulls back and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “You taste like pineapple bun. Not that I’m complaining.”

I look around his office. It’s large and the furniture and art on the walls look quite expensive.

I don’t belong here.

I put my arms around him because at least I feel like I belong when I’m holding him.

“Sorry I don’t have more time,” he says. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I just thought I’d surprise you at work.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I have a present for you.” I pull out a flash drive. “I won’t tell you what’s on it. You’ll have to look for yourself once I’ve left.

He nods as he slides it into his pocket. “I can’t wait until I have you alone tomorrow.” He winks at me before I leave.

I’m very much looking forward to tomorrow.

* * *

That evening, I doa stupid thing.

I Google my boyfriend.

Among the news about Fong Investments and his family’s philanthropy, I find a picture of Julian and a beautiful woman at a gala. According to the caption, her name is Olivia Tremblay. She’s wearing a stunning blue gown and she has a perfectly-messy updo. She’s smiling up at Julian, who is turned partially away from the camera, with adoring eyes. Another Google search reveals she’s a lawyer at a prestigious firm. Julian mentioned an ex named Olivia once, so I know they were actually together.

But they’re not together anymore. He’s with me and he cares for me, and sometimes he’s in such a rush to be inside me that he doesn’t wait until we’re in the bedroom. It might be hard to believe, but this man wants me. He’s the one who suggested we have something more. When I mentioned my depression, he said he’d be there for me, and he’s seen me when I’m in a bad place.

If Julian were here right now and I spilled out all my insecurities, he would tell me again that he wants me. If I told Naomi, she would reassure me, too.

Although it’s not cold, I wrap myself in a fuzzy blanket and sit down on my recliner with a cup of tea, a few gingersnaps, and one of my favorite novels. This is what I do when I start to feel shitty: I try to treat myself well. Sometimes I also do little things that make me feel productive, like putting away the dishes or throwing the garbage down the chute.