Craving My Ruthless Ceo novel Chapter 124

Chapter 124

Anna’s POV

I stared at my phone, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.

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Roman’s last email glared back at me, demanding the restaurant name and address. The audacity of him thinking he could just order me around like that outside of work hours made me so mad.

But underneath the anger, a thrill raced down my spine.

My billionaire CEO, instead of working or closing million-dollar deals, or being out with any woman he wanted, and he could have anyone, was obsessing over my whereabouts. Blowing up my emails and demanding answers.

It was obvious he suspected I’d lied about dinner with Zoe.

The months working for him had taught me his patterns. When he distrusted someone, when he doubted their story, he bombarded them with questions designed to catch inconsistencies.

Now he was demanding my location. I wasn’t going to give it to him.

But even as I tried to focus on my wine and the ambient lighting of the restaurant, my eyes kept darting around.

I wouldn’t put it past Roman to somehow find my exact location and show up here. The man had resources I couldn’t even fathom. But why would he do that for me? His assistant.

Just before I could shove the thought away, Laurent’s voice pulled me out of my spiral.

“You’ve been on your phone quite a bit.”

I looked up to find him watching me, his expression curious and slightly annoyed.

“Is everything all right?”

I placed my phone down on the table, face-up this time, and forced a smile. “I apologize. Everything is good.”

Laurent set down his fork, his gaze never leaving mine. “You were texting back and forth there for several minutes. I can’t help but wonder if it’s another one of your emergencies.”

The undertone in that last word wasn’t lost on me.

And I knew why. Because I had used “emergencies” as an excuse to cut our last date short.

“It’s actually Roman,” the truth slipped out. “He’s just checking in to make sure I’m safe.”

Laurent’s eyes narrowed. “Does he do this often? Check on you outside of work hours?”

I realized my mistake immediately.

“Is that how he checks up on all his staff, or just you?”

“It’s about the campaign,” I added quickly, backpedaling. “He’s just making sure everything is still on track.”

Laurent picked up his wine glass, swirling it slowly. “And he can’t wait until Monday? When you’re back in the office?”

“Well.” I reached for my own glass. “You seem to forget, I’m his executive assistant. My contract kind of states I’m at his beck and call. It’s one of the hazards of the job.”

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Chapter 124

“Hmm.” Laurent took a sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “I see.”

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He wasn’t convinced. I could tell by the way he set his glass down thoughtful.

I needed to break the ice and shift the conversation away from Roman.

“So,” I said brightly, “tell me about France. Do you miss home?”

Laurent’s expression softened. “I do. But I can visit anytime, which helps.” He speared a piece of meat. “I’m enjoying the States, though. New York has its charm.”

He paused, then added with a slight smirk, “Though I must say, Americans have a strange obsession with ice in everything. Water, wine, coffee. It’s barbaric.”

I laughed. “Ice is refreshing.”

“Ice dilutes perfectly good beverages,” he countered. “In France, we respect our drinks too much to drown them.”

“Oh, please. You French and your superiority complex about food and drink.”

“It’s not superiority if it’s fact,” Laurent said, his eyes twinkling. “Your coffee is like dishwater. Your bread is full of chemicals. And don’t even get me started on what you call cheese.”

“Excuse me?” I leaned forward, mock offense written across my face. “American cheese is a staple.”

“American cheese is not cheese. It’s a petroleum product shaped like cheese.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re such a snob.”

“I prefer the term cultured.” He grinned. “But really, the portion sizes here are obscene. Do Americans truly need a steak the size of their head?”

“We like value for our money.”

“You like heart disease,” he shot back. “In France, we eat small portions of quality food. Here, you eat mountains of mediocrity.”

“We do not.” I started, then paused. “Okay, maybe we have a slight problem with processed food. And possibly the portion sizes are a bit much. But that’s what makes it America.”

“That’s what makes it concerning,” Laurent said, but his smile was teasing.

I was laughing now, genuinely enjoying myself despite the earlier tension. “Okay, food snob. What else don’t you like about America?”

“How much time do you have?” He grinned. “The tipping culture is exhausting. Just pay your servers a living wage. The sales tax not being included in the price is maddening. And why does everything close so early? In Paris, the city is alive at midnight.”

“New York never sleeps,” I pointed out.

“New York is the exception, not the rule.” He leaned back. “But I will admit, you do have better air conditioning. And your bathrooms are cleaner.”

“Wow. High praise.”

“Don’t let it

go to your head.”

The conversation flowed more easily after that, the banter light and playful. Laurent told me about his favorite spots in

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Chapter 124

Paris, the hidden cafes and the bookshops along the Seine.

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Then he set his fork down, his expression turning more serious. You should visit,” he said. He picked up his wine glass. “Let me show you the city properly. Not as a tourist, but as someone who knows where to find the real beauty.

“I’ve always wanted to, but I can’t find the time.”

“Nonsense. Life is too short.” He reached for his fork again. “You can’t be an assistant forever, Anna.” His tone was gentle but firm. “You have too much potential for that. And modeling. Have you given it more thought? You’d be perfect as the face of the campaign.”

1 set down my fork. “We’ve had this conversation before, Lauren I don’t think modeling is for me.”

“In my younger years, before I fully took over Beaumont in France, I was a scout.”

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