Page 141 of Flirting With The CEO


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“Thank you,” Levi says solemnly. “I work very hard at it.”

Mark adds something dry under his breath that I can’t quite hear, but it sets Alex off again—laughter sharp and unrestrained.

They’re too loud. Too animated. Absolutely unconcerned with who’s watching.

I catch Jamie’s eye for a second. She lifts her glass at me, grin unapologetic.

See?it says.We’re fine.

I smile back.

Levi launches into another story—this one involving a disastrous Secret Santa exchange and a ceramic llama that apparently haunts him to this day.

“Still have it,” he says proudly. “Sits on my shelf. Judges me.”

“That tracks,” Alex says.

“Honestly,” Jamie adds, “I’m just impressed you didn’t set it on fire.”

Levi gasps. “I am a grown man.”

Mark raises his glass. “Debatable.”

The group dissolves into laughter again, the sound carrying across the room—warm and unfiltered.

For a moment, I just watch them. This strange, loud constellation of people who somehow became mine.

Then Derek’s hand settles more firmly at my waist, grounding me back where I belong.

Later, when the music shifts and the room softens into that end-of-night warmth, Derek murmurs, “You okay?”

I nod. “Better than okay.”

His thumb presses once at my waist. “Good.”

Christmas comes quietly.

We decorate together—first his house, then mine. He’s methodical. I’m not. We negotiate ornament placement like it matters, laughing when he insists symmetry counts and I hang something crooked on purpose.

His tree is tall and understated. White lights. Gold accents.

Mine is… not.

There are ornaments from years I pretend don’t matter anymore. He listens when I tell him the stories anyway.

It feels intimate in a way I didn’t expect. Like we’re learning how to inhabit each other’s spaces without asking permission first.

Christmas morning is at his place.

The living room smells like coffee and pine and something warm in the oven.

There’s a large present under the tree with my name on it. Large enough that my stomach tightens. I eye it.

“That’s not a ring box,” I say carefully.

He smiles. “No.”

I exhale. “Good.”