Chasing the boss

Lucian  

The moment Lexi's phone lit up again with Ethan Shaw's name, my entire body went on high alert. I watched the color drain from her face as she quickly silenced the call, her fingers trembling slightly against the screen.  

“You know him,” I stated, steering her firmly toward the private elevator. My grip on her elbow was perhaps tighter than necessary, but the sudden appearance of that particular name in connection with Lexi Carter set off every alarm bell in my system.  

She yanked her arm free the second the elevator doors closed. “It's personal.” 

The way her chin jutted out in defiance would have been adorable if the situation weren't so dangerous.  

I studied her in the elevator's dim lighting. The rapid pulse at her throat, the way she unconsciously bit her lower lip. For a woman who claimed to hate me, she stood remarkably close to me in this confined space.  

The garage doors opened to reveal Marcus waiting with the town car. “Change of plans,” I told Lexi, guiding her toward it with a hand at the small of her back. She stiffened but didn't pull away this time. “My driver will take you home.” 

“What about the rest of the tour?” Those whiskey-colored eyes narrowed at me.

I resisted the urge to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “Rescheduled.” I replied, ss I handed her into the car, I made sure my voice dropped low enough that Marcus wouldn't hear. “I don't know your connection with Ethan, but be careful. I'm just a call away if you need me.”

I can't believe I said that. I felt really embarrassed. What am I? Her boyfriend?

She shook her head. “I don't need you, Mr. Cross.”

“Ouch,” I muttered.

Lexi didn't come to work until three days later. Not that she didn't want to come. I didn't call her. My face still burns in embarrassment whenever I remember my last statement to her. The hell.

Three days later, at the Children's Hospital Benefit.  I spotted Lexi across the crowded ballroom, looking stunning in an emerald green gown my assistant had discreetly arranged for her. If she knew the dress was from me, she wouldn't wear it. 

I had my assistant call her the night before to inform her I would be needing her to cover a story.

She held her camera and notepad tightly, but her book has been empty since three hours ago. I am sure she was expecting something shady and bad.

“Enjoying the champagne or just the view?” I murmured, appearing at her elbow.  

She startled, nearly dropping her glass. “Do you have to materialize out of thin air like some sort of overgrown bat?”

I plucked the champagne from her fingers and took a sip, watching her eyes track the movement of my lips. “I prefer to think of it as making an entrance.”  

Lexi rolled her eyes but didn't protest when I guided her toward the silent auction tables. “Why are we really here, Mr. Cross?” Her voice was laced with frustration. “This doesn't seem like your scene.”  

“You'd be surprised.” I nodded toward a group of children in remission being escorted by nurses. “The hospital's oncology wing is my pet project.” 

Her skeptical expression softened just slightly. “You fund pediatric cancer research?”

“Among other things.” I steered her past a display showing the new neonatal unit my foundation had built. “But please, don't let that ruin your image of me as a heartless capitalist.”  

For the first time since we met, I saw genuine confusion flicker across her face.  

Later That Evening we arrived at The Bronx Foster Home.  

Lexi stood frozen in the doorway as I handed out winter coats to a group of wide-eyed children. Who were excited to see me.

“You... you know this place?” She asked, her gaze fixed on me.

“Intimately.” I crouched to help a small boy zip his new jacket. “My father and I have visited here since I was nine before he died. He told me it was a family tradition and I must continue.”

I watched the realization dawn in her eyes.

“You're staring, Miss Carter.” I teased.

She blinked rapidly. “I just... you never mentioned…” 

“Because it's not for publicity.” I straightened, brushing invisible lint from my suit sleeves. “Contrary to popular belief, not everything I do is for show.” 

Lexi opened her mouth, then closed it again when one of the teenage girls approached shyly.  

“Mr. Lucian?” The girl held out a handmade card. “We made this for you.”

As I accepted the card, I didn't miss how Lexi's fingers twitched toward it, her reporter's curiosity clearly warring with something softer.  

“Thank you, Maria.” I tucked the card into my inner pocket without looking at it. Some moments were too private even for prying journalists.  

The ride back to Atherton was quiet, Lexi stared out of the window with an unreadable expression. When the car pulled up outside her apartment, she finally turned to me.  

“Why did you really bring me today?” She asked, her serious expression told me she wanted to hear the truth.

I considered lying to her. Considered deflecting with a joke about her article. But instead, I told her the truth.  

“Because I wanted you to see me.”  

She was stunned. Shock written all over her face.

“What?!” 

“Yes, I wanted you to see me.” I smiled, looking around. “This is who I am, not some heartless billionaire who fucks celebrities.”

For a moment I knew she didn't want to believe me.

I won't force it.

Wait, but why do I care what she thinks of me?

I never cared what people thought of me. But somehow, deep down, I want Lexi to know me for who I really am. Not some fucked up billionaire.

“I will leave now, thanks for the ride.” She said, turning to her apartment.

“Oh…alright.” I entered the car and it zoomed off.

“Is everything okay, sir.” Gregory asked from the driver's seat.

I decided against lying. Everything is not okay.

“I need to see a therapist, Greg. Immediately.”

“Okay sir. I’ll arrange for that.” 

He dialed a number and chatted for a while.

“She’ll be glad to see you immediately sir.” Gregory replied.

I nodded. It's a she. Good. Because I might end up needing motherly advice.

Few minutes later, we pulled up in front of a massive building. 

Greg took care of all the necessities.

“This way sir.” A female receptionist replied, leading us to a large office.

A slender, silver-haired woman sat on a white sofa. Late sixties I presume.

“Come on in, my dear.” She welcomed, offering me a seat. The chair was a comfortable leather chair.

“Will be outside sir.” Greg excused.

I nodded, waving him out.

“Spill.” The woman ordered, and as if on cue, I narrated my concern to her. From how I met Lexi. To how I act strange whenever she's around. And sometimes say ridiculous things like, “call me when you need me.” What kind of boss says that?!

The woman nodded, scribbling in her notebook as I confessed. When I finished, the woman set down her pen with a knowing smile. I nodded, my gaze fixed on her, expecting some explanation.

“My dear, what you're describing are classic symptoms of limerence.”

I stiffened in the leather chair. “Limerence?”

“That overwhelming romantic infatuation,” she explained, adjusting her glasses. “The physical reactions. The irrational need to both impress and provoke her.” She tapped her notebook. “You're not acting strange, Mr. Cross. You're falling in love.”

The pen I'd been fidgeting with snapped in my hands. “Ehn!”