My secret lover is the CEO

I hung up and bolted toward the bathroom. Right before the corner, a strong arm yanked me into a storage closet. I smelled Creed Aventus—my favorite men's cologne. The one I'd told him I loved. He remembered. Alexander wrapped around me from behind, lips brushing my ear. “Running away, baby?” His lips grazed my earlobe. My legs almost gave out. I begged him to let go—I needed to change. He ignored me, tightened his hold, and guided me up a hidden staircase to the second floor. He pushed open a door, locked it behind us, and pinned me against it. “This used to be my temporary place. Better than the bathroom for changing.” I protested weakly, “Why did you lie to me?” “I never lied.” He frowned, looking genuinely hurt. “You never gave me a chance to tell you.” “You only called at night.” “Every time we met, you went straight to sex.” “You never asked my last name, my job—nothing!” His tone even sounded a little aggrieved. …Was that true? Yes… I'd only ever gone to the Coastline Estate at night. But he was my sugar baby. Of course we only met for sex! I smiled awkwardly. “Okay, my bad. But I need to change now. Can you step out?” I pointed at the garment bag. He gave a cold little smirk, strode to the sofa, sat down, and spread his legs. “We've seen each other naked for two years. What's there to be shy about?” True. I rarely saw him fully dressed. So I turned around, calmly unzipped my gown. His gaze burned hotter and hotter on my skin. Finally he couldn't take it—he reached out with a long arm and yanked me down. I tumbled into his lap, bag and all. Then came the fierce kissing. Right as his hand started sliding lower, my phone rang. I pushed him off, answered, and motioned for him to stay quiet. “I'm upstairs changing.” “Okay, I'll be right down.” I hung up, quickly slipped into Ava's spare robe, and headed for the door. He grabbed my wrist. “You're just leaving like that?” I smiled sweetly. “Mr. Mellon, with your connections I'm sure you've already done a full background check on me.” “I don't know why you let me ‘keep' you for two years.” “But what I said last time was true. No sex after the breakup.” “My husband is looking for me. Goodbye.” I shook him off and walked out. “Wen!” he called after me, frustrated. … Ethan saw us come downstairs one after the other and gave us a strange look. “Where the hell did you go? I couldn't find you,” he snapped, pulling me closer. “Wine spilled. I went upstairs to change.” I held up the empty garment bag. He didn't care. He lifted his chin toward Alexander. “How do you know him?” I raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile on my lips. “Met him at a club a few years ago. One-night stand. He just recognized me.” Ethan laughed, but there was anger in it; he clearly thought I was bullshitting. “Wow, you get around.” “Wen, listen—I don't care about your past. The Hayes Group is bidding against the Mellon Group on a huge resort project. Go apologize. Don't screw this up and embarrass the family.” I rolled my eyes. What a clown. When he couldn't convince me, he ditched me and pushed into the crowd. “Mr. Mellon, about the Hamptons resort project—Hayes has the capital and the experience—” Alexander coldly dodged the offered champagne flute. “It's an open bid, Mr. Hayes. No backroom deals.” “However, after your wife's little ‘performance' tonight, I have serious doubts about your company's judgment.” He gave me a meaningful look. Petty. My dumped sugar baby was holding a grudge. The Hayes family had been good to me—his parents treated me like their own daughter. I sighed and walked over with my most polite social smile. “Mr. Mellon, I didn't expect you to remember me. Still mad about me accidentally scuffing your loafers at the Met Gala after-party? Name your price—I'll buy you a new pair.” He sneered. “My shoes are custom. You couldn't buy them even if you wanted to.” “I was just saying—next time you piss someone off, apologize before the statute of limitations runs out.” “Sorry expires too.” He turned and left. The crowd stared. Ethan was furious but couldn't explode in public. He pulled me aside. “Why didn't you tell me you pissed him off? What about the bid now?!” “That was all bullshit—the shoe story was made up. I didn't expect him to play along.” “You…” “I'll go to Mellon headquarters tomorrow and formally apologize. It'll be fine.” “You think he'll still give you face after this?” “Trust me, this will work.”