All Chapters of Too Late To Apologize, Mr. CEO: Chapter 141 - Chapter 147

I scrunched down in my seat, cheeks red with humiliation. Claire strutted across the parking lot, hips swinging, and got in the car with her muscular companion. He’d climbed in the back with Ethan, but he and Claire seemed really comfortable together. She’d given him her keys and their hands had almost touched! Who was this guy?I thought back to when I’d first seen him…*** “Who is that guy?” Bernard asked. I reluctantly pulled my attention away from my noodles. “What guy?”“The guy sitting with Claire and Savannah. The effortlessly macho hunk with the hazel eyes,” Bernard said. I followed his gaze and then quickly looked away. I’d spent the whole memorial service trying to avoid Savannah and didn’t want to draw her attention now. I wouldn’t call him “an effortlessly macho hunk,” but I guess he was handsome if you liked that sort of thing. Claire didn’t. She liked stylish, dignified men. He was leaning forward, listening intently to what she was saying. She seemed relaxed, comple

The Uber ride was heavy with anticipation, scented with pheromones. When we walked into my apartment I found myself seeing it through his eyes. How the warm colors, the impeccable taste and presentation, almost succeeded in making up for the lack of personal photographs and mementoes. Matthew walked across the living room to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out at the glittering city skyline. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “And it keeps your secrets well.” I poured out the Scotch and handed him a glass. “Can’t have a blabbermouth apartment,” I said. “True,” he said, turning to face me. He set his drink down on a side table, stepping into my personal space. “But eventually you need to tell at least one person the truth.”When he kissed me, the last remnants of my carefully constructed control dissolved. His lips were smooth and firm, his hands gripped the small of my back and pulled me tight against him. It was a slow, intimate exploration, a grounded connection that I didn’t rea

The view was spectacular. Bernard and I were in the Arden International conference room on the fiftieth floor, and from here I could see the whole city. It was spread out before me like a smorgasbord and I saw something that looked very tasty indeed.Bernard handed me the report. “The valuations on their regional distribution centers are inflated,” he said. “But if we squeeze their supply lines for another thirty days, their board will capitulate. We can buy them out for sixty cents on the dollar.” His voice was missing its usual zest. He enjoyed this kind of corporate maneuvering as much as I did, if not more. “If we act now we can get this done by Christmas.” His voice was flat, his gaze distant. He could have been talking about the weather in a city he didn’t live in. I leaned back in my leather office chair, thinking. Sixty cents on the dollar would be a bloodbath for Walker and Sons. They were a family-owned business, started by their great-grandfather back in the thirties.

Over the next few days we auditioned dozens of kids. We tried to find a place for anybody who wanted one. If they couldn’t sing or act they could still be street urchins or workers in the background of Scrooge’s factory. Today we were taking applications for the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. I looked around and spotted Emma and Ethan in the audience, waiting for Emma’s turn. I waved at them and they waved back, Emma smiling cheerfully. The first auditionee was one of the high school students and very fashionably goth. Today she’d gone for the corpse bride look—black lace gown, long black hair, dead white makeup, heavy black eyeliner. She swept to her mark and gracefully extended a slender arm, pointing at Matthew. Who made a note on his tablet. “Thanks, Elfreda, we’ll get back to you,” he said with a smile. She smiled back, completely ruining her spooky goth vibe.The next candidate was a tall, skinny middle-schooler carrying a scythe with a silver-painted cardboard blade. The o