Texting The CEO

They have no idea how wrong they are. Even after I’ve told a few people my true passion is for fashion, the rumor persists.

The crazy part is I don’t care.

Let people say what they want. All they can do is snipe from the sidelines. They’ll never experience what Felix and I share.

Felix’s car pulls up right on time. He lowers the window, smiling over at me. He looks dashing as always, his pale blue shirt hugging onto his arms, his sleeves rolled up, his forearms twitching as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Ready for an adventure?” he says, reaching over and opening my door.

I climb inside. “Not to be cheesy as heck….”

“My sweet mystery girl, nothing is cheesier than saying heck.”

I playfully jab him, knowing it’s all in fun. I love – there’s that word again – how we can tease each other, always knowing it’s banter.

“What were you going to say?” he asks.

“Every day with you is an adventure,” I reply. “But since you’re being such a meanie, I might take it back.”

He arches his eyebrow as the car glides away. “A meanie?”

I giggle. “Don’t push your luck, Mister.”

He smiles as we leave the office district, driving through the city.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

He glances at me. Suddenly, some of the fun has left his face. He narrows his eyes. It reminds me of the way he looked after I told him I was a virgin.

I misread that look then, thinking it meant he was angry. I can’t do the same here.

The other option is almost too much to handle.

Wedding bells ring through my mind, replacing the warning signals that used to dominate me. But I can’t let my mind go there so easily.

“That would ruin the surprise,” he says after a pause. “Do you trust me?”

I place my hand on his forearm, squeezing gently. “You know I do. I’ll always trust you.”

He nods. “Good.”

We don’t say much for the rest of the ride. It’s only a short drive, maybe ten minutes, and then Felix is guiding the car into a parking lot of what looks like a large warehouse.

I look over at him, trying to connect the tightness of his expression and the general tautness in his body with our location.

Why would a warehouse make him behave this way?

He steps from the car, moving to walk around my side.

I laugh as I quickly open the door.

It’s a game we’ve started to play for fun…can he sneak-attack open the door before I realize and do it myself?

He grins down at me, darkness momentarily dispelled, but then it returns as he offers his hand. “Shall we?”

I hold onto him as we walk around the side of the building to a small entrance, not the big service entrance with the metal doors. He leads me down a small corridor and then to a large room.

I gaze around at the clothes, hundreds of items, maybe even thousands, some of them piled as high as the ceiling.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“Surplus stock from a bunch of local stores. I’ve been collecting it all for a couple of weeks.”

“Um…why?”

He turns to me, his smile reminding me of his old one, more wolfish than content. “For you, Fiona. Why else? Take a look around. Choose anything you want. I know you always need new materials.”

I force myself to smile instead of allowing the frown to take hold. It’s not fair to pout and be disappointed when he’s done something so thoughtful and nice.

“This is great. Thank you.”

He waves a hand. Either I’m going crazy, or it’s trembling, which is crazy considering he’s Felix Franklin.

Even if I’ve scratched away some of the public veneers, there’s no doubt Felix is a strong man, able to remain calm and conduct his business with skill and ruthlessness if he needs to.

To think that showing me around a room full of clothes could make his hand shake like that.

Is something else going on here?

He smiles – and again, there’s a shakiness to it. “What are you waiting for? You might find something special in here…princess.”

I laugh at the reference. A few nights ago, while we were in bed together, all sweaty and content after making love, I spoke about a princess dress I used to dream about owning when I was a kid.

It wasn’t a dress from real life. It was one I invented, an emerald-green color with gauze-white trailing, with little pictures of birds and squirrels and wildlife all over it.

“Why wildlife?” my man asked, his hands tickling through my hair.

“I was obsessed,” I told him. “For ages. For years. And then fashion took over.”

Felix stares at me, a soft smile on his lips. “I’m not joking. It’s here.”

“Really?”

He grins. “Yep.”

I rush around the warehouse, tossing big handfuls of clothes around. Once I get into it, it's fun putting any promising pieces aside.