Page 19 of Caged By the Stranger
There’s something…intimidating about him, which is bonkers. Nothing about the guy should be intimidating. When his mouth isn’t ticked up at the corner, he’s quiet in thought with this deep, far-off look in his eyes like he knows secrets of the world that no one else does. It’s…unsettling. I don’t even know how he got invited on this cruise. I’d love to find out his sales record. Guaranteed, I freaking smoked his, but that delighted look in his eyes right now tells me that the first chance he gets McDonnell alone, he’ll spill the beans about why I’m not a good candidate for the job.
“Charlie…”
“What?” Snapping my attention back to Carmen, I find her flashing me a peculiar look.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Fine. I’m fine. What were you saying?”
“We were just wondering what your take on this all-expenses-paid cruise was? Does McDonnell have evil plans for all of us, or is he really the best CEO to have ever CEO’d?”
A steward, dressed in a formal uniform for the evening, calls for our attention near the doorway. He makes theannouncement that dinner is ready to be served and for us to take our seats.
“I doubt it’s anything malicious,” I inform Carmen, taking her hand to help her from her stool as she gathers her drink. The least I can do isnotburst her bubble.
As we step toward the dining table, I notice there are place cards in front of each of the chairs. Assigned seating. What the hell does that mean? Is there a pecking order?
I feel an elbow in my ribs, and Carmen whispers in my ear as she nudges me toward the head of the table. “Tell me if you find anything out.”
I spot my name at a seat right next to the end of the table. Right next to the head of the table, to be exact. That has to be a good sign, right? Maybe my boss knew what he was talking about after all.
Taking my seat carefully, I try not to wince at the awkward sensation against my nether region. It is so incredibly bizarre to be sitting in a room full of my work counterparts, wearing a cock cage under the table, unbeknownst to them. Well, all of them except one. Where the fuck is Rory?
Glancing down the table, I find every single chair is occupied. Did he skip out or something? He’s honestly so eccentric, it doesn’t surprise me that—
“Good evening, everyone.”
The smooth, deep voice that I remember from earlier comes from above me to my right. I follow the crisp dress shirt and black suit jacket up to find Rory’s intelligent eyes twinkling in the candlelit room, a hush going over the table. What the fuck is he doing?
“I think I’ve gotten the chance to meet most of you, but for those I haven’t, I’m Riordan McDonnell, CEO of Amor. On behalf of myself and the company, I’d like to welcome you to this appreciation cruise for all your hard work this past fiscal year.”
His mouth keeps moving. Words keep coming out. Professional words, free of sarcasm or innuendo, but I stop hearing them after that. All I hear isCEO of Amor.CEOas in…CEO of the fucking company that I work for.CEO,as in the guy who will be picking who gets the promotion. McDonnell.Rory McDonnell…
Roryis Riordan McDonnell?
Why didn’t I take one of his fucking business cards when I had the chance?
No. What did I do instead? Showed him my dick and asked zero questions later.Holyfuckingshit!I never cared that our company doesn’t have pictures of our sales reps or board members on its website until this moment.
“Charlie?”
“Huh?”
He’s seated now. When the hell did he stop talking and sit down?
The steward is holding a tray of salads. Rory’s curious gaze flicks from mine to the steward like an instruction. I mumble something unintelligible and sit back to allow the man to place a bowl in front of me, and then he moves on. When he rounds the table to the salesman across from me, I finally find the nerve to speak again.
“Riordan?” I mutter accusingly under my breath, realizing my theory about him looking like an Italian model has been blown entirely out of the water by his Irish-sounding name.
There’s that annoying hum. “Yes. But…my friends call me Rory.”
Friends. AmIsupposed to be his fucking friend? I can’t be his friend. I work for him.
You know what else I can’t be? The guy who shows him a fucking cock cage!
Fortunately, everyone sitting around us is eager to speak to the elusive CEO we’ve never set eyes on before. That affords me the luxury of silently reliving every embarrassing interaction I had with the man. Maybe the yacht will sail close enough to shore so I can grab a life preserver and jump overboard.
When dinner is cleared, I still haven’t looked at him once, but there’s no way to salvage this. Even if he doesn’t give a damn if his employees wear cock cages, how in the hell could I ever work directly under him knowing what he knows and has seen what he’s seen?
