Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,51
So just because they brought you up, doesn’t mean they deserve a thing from you.”
Silence. Shit, why had he said anything? It was all in the past. He’d gotten over the anger years ago. Hadn’t he?
“Oh, Joseph,” Christie said softly. “I’m sorry. That must have been so hard.”
It had been. But he’d held it together for Jude. For his little sister who adored him, even if his mother had been sick of the sight of him. Even if his father had blamed him for making her leave. As if you could blame a kid for the bad behavior of an adult.
“It happened. It’s over,” he said dismissively.
But Christie didn’t seem to hear the warning in his voice. “Why did she leave?”
“How the hell would I know? It wasn’t like she popped back to tell me.”
A small silence.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quiet. “I didn’t mean to p-push.”
The stutter was back. He’d noticed it came out when she was either nervous or stressed, which meant he’d hurt her. What a prick. “Don’t apologize, honey. It’s not your fault. Anyway, it’s all in the past. Old news. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”
She remained silent a moment, then nodded and changed the subject, asking him something about his business. They chatted for a while about their jobs and he enjoyed hearing her talk about hers.
“So what made you decide on writing rather than working in the electronics industry?” he asked as they turned down the road to her parents’ house. “Because you know that job offer in my R&D department is still open.”
“I always liked writing. I’m much better at it than talking, at least. And I liked playing with new technology. So working in tech journalism seemed like a great way of combining the two things I like to do best in the world. “ She grinned. “But I have to say that job offer is very tempting. Would I get to play with tech all day?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“And do the boss every night?”
He laughed. “Okay, that does it. You’re hired.”
“What about you? Why technology?”
“Because it’s always changing. Always moving forward at such a fast rate. There’s always something new on the horizon, new ideas, new advances.” He glanced at her and grinned. “And it’s something I’m good at.”
“You are. Hey, I just had a thought with the Arkon. There’s a bit of the motherboard that—” she stopped. “Oh. We’re here.”
Joseph slowed the Tesla Roadster outside the huge, white, two-story villa mansion clearly visible through the trees. With manicured lawns, trees, and a huge “don’t bother me, I’m too important” gate, the place reeked of money and entitlement.
Christie’s tension only got worse as he announced them at the intercom and the gates opened, allowing him to drive up a long driveway lined with stately oaks.
“Right,” he said as he parked in the turnaround outside the house. “So what’s the plan? How would you like me to act?”
Her jaw looked tight, her shoulders set, a bitter look in her eyes. “Just…” She took a breath, staring at the big house in front of them. “Just don’t make a big deal of anything my mother says, okay? I hear it all the time and arguing with her makes it worse. I’d prefer to walk in, stay an hour or two, then leave.”
She was as guarded as he’d ever seen her. As if bracing herself for a blow.
“Hey,” he said, reaching over to take her hand, curling her cold fingers in his. Wanting to help her in any way he could. “There’s something I want you to remember.”
She didn’t pull her hand away, her gaze coming to his. “What?”
“I want you to remember you’re strong and brave and beautiful.” He tightened his fingers around hers, warming them. “I want you to remember that you, Christie St. John, are perfect. Okay?”
Like the edge of dawn showing in a cold, dark unforgiving night sky, her mouth curved and her face lost its tight, drawn look. Her fingers squeezed his back. “Thanks, Joseph.”
He smiled. “Good. Now, let’s go in and kick your family’s butt.”
Christie laughed and for the first time in weeks, Joseph felt like he’d finally done something right.
Chapter Ten
The party was in full swing, a number of her parents’ rich friends already gathered in the formal lounge. Waiters moved among the partygoers with trays of canapés and champagne. Probably the most expensive champagne. Nothing but the best for her mother, after all. There was even a string quartet playing.
It was a sight that, a