Page 41 of Saved By the CEO

I lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. That earns me a smile just as the elevator dings and the doors slide open.

I have never been so relieved to see the executive floor in my life.

Fresh air fillsmy lungs as I step out into the crisp autumn morning.

I nailed that.

Atlas Development had asked to meet me over breakfast, and I’d jumped at the idea. Their offices were gorgeous. Huge windows, lots of greenery, exposed brick walls.

I met with their CEO, Melanie Dyer, a smiley woman in her mid-forties who made me feel at ease within seconds. She was witty, down-to-earth, and easy to talk to. She showed me around, introduced me to a few people, and told me about the company.

Atlas is smaller than BenCo, but still substantial. They specialize in housing projects for lower-income communities, and everyone there seemed genuinely proud of the work they were doing. There was a whole backstory that I don’t remember a word of, but it moved me when Melanie told it.

We sat down in their cafeteria, ate bagels, and talked about me and my background. No college degree, but plenty of workexperience. Waitress, receptionist, office coordinator, and most recently, executive assistant.

She asked why I thought I’d be qualified to work as a PR Manager. I told her about the press briefings and interviews I’d done for BenCo, and how, before that, I’d often been part of conversations about press strategy. She nodded along as I spoke and asked a few follow-up questions, but nothing that felt like a trap.

We talked about my ambitions, where I saw myself in ten years, and what I hoped to accomplish if I joined Atlas. The conversation flowed easily. It felt less like an interview and more like talking to a friend.

When we were done, Melanie walked me to the entrance.

“It was lovely meeting you, Carly,” she said. “We’ll be in touch.”

Now I’m climbing into the back of an Uber, about to head back to the office before Mr. Bennett starts wondering how long a doctor’s appointment is supposed to take.

I look out the window as the car pulls away, and I smile.

Bye-bye, BenCo.

It’s almost comical.

I’m curled up next to Josh on his couch, half-watching a movie neither of us is paying attention to, thinking about how I’m going to have to tell him about the virus and Mr. Bennett soon, when Josh reaches over and presses the back of his hand to my forehead.

“Are you getting sick?”

I sit up and touch my cheeks. I’m burning up.

Mr. Bennett and I had planned a session for tomorrow morning, but apparently, the fever has decided to arrive early this time.

Fantastic.

I bite my lip, thinking. Should I tell Josh now? I really, really don’t want to. The conversation about the virus is something we need to sit down for. Preferably while I’m fully conscious and not actively fighting for my life. It also feels cruel to drop a bomb like that and then immediately go,Anyway, I need to leave now so my boss can finger me. Bye.

I’ll talk to him tomorrow, after work, I decide.

“I should head home,” I say, pushing myself upright. “Thanks for tonight.”

I lean in to kiss him, but before I can stand, he catches my wrist.

“Are you all right?” he asks. “That felt like a fever.”

“I’m probably just warm from the blanket.” I make another attempt to stand. “I’ll be fine.”

The room tilts violently. My knees buckle, and suddenly, I’m falling. Josh catches me before I hit the coffee table.

“Jesus, Carly.” He helps me back down onto the couch. “You’re staying here tonight. You’re clearly sick.”

I shake my head, which is a terrible idea, because I’m already dizzy. “I need to go.”