The CEO Above My Desk (Mckenzie Shinabery) novel Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Violet

“My mother fell,” I say. Straight to the point. “During a transfer.”

He doesn’t react.

“How bad?” he asks.

“She’s fine,” I say quickly. “Shaken. No fractures. She keeps asking for me.”

Rowan’s gaze doesn’t leave my face. “And you stayed.”

“Yes.”

Not defensive. Not proud.

Just fact.

“They asked when you were coming,” he says.

I nod. “I’m going tonight.”

Another pause.

“You didn’t leave early,” he says.

“No.”

“Didn’t ask.”

“No.”

Something unreadable crosses his expression.

“Why?” he asks.

I don’t soften it. “Because I was needed here.”

Silence again.

He turns slightly, leans one hip against the desk. “You could’ve gone.”

“I know.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I don’t miss work,” I say.

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09:54 Tue, May 5

Chapter 23

The words come out sharper than I intend.

Rowan studies me like I just confirmed something he’s been watching for weeks.

“They keep calling,” he says again, quieter now. “That means she’s distressed.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re still leaving now,” he observes.

“Yes.”

He considers that.

Then, “Do you need time tomorrow?”

No.

The answer is immediate. Reflexive.

“No.”

His eyes narrow. “That wasn’t a question meant to be answered quickly.”

“I know.”

Another beat.

“Fine,” he says finally. “You’re cleared to leave.”

I nod once. “Camille’s taking me.”

“Good.”

I turn to go, hand on the door-

“Pierce.”

I stop.

“Yes?”

“If they call again,” he says, voice low, “you tell me.”

I look back at him, surprised despite myself.

“I can handle it,” I say.

“I know,” he replies. “That’s not what I said.”

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Tue, May 5

Chapter 23

Something about the way he says it lands heavy in my chest.

I nod. “Understood.”

I leave before I can overthink it.

Camille is waiting exactly where I left her.

“You good?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, even though my hands are shaking again.

We head toward the elevator together.

Behind us, Rowan’s office light stays on.

And I don’t know why that feels like it matters.

The drive takes forty minutes.

Forty minutes of red lights, stalled traffic, and the quiet hum of Camille’s car filling the spaces neither of us knows how to talk around.

We pull into the lot at 7:34.

The rehab center sits on the east side-low, rectangular, brick stained darker by age and exhaust. Not impressive. Not expensive-looking. The kind of place you choose because it’s what you can afford, not because it’s what you want. But it’s clean. The lights are warm. The windows don’t feel like a cage.

High ratings. Decent doctors. That’s what I tell myself every time I come here.

Inside, the air smells faintly of disinfectant and cafeteria food. A nurse at the front desk looks up and smiles when she sees me.

“Oh, good,” she says. “She’s been asking for you.”

My stomach twists.

Camille squeezes my shoulder once before I walk down the hall alone.

My mother’s room is halfway down, door cracked open. I push it wider.

She’s sitting up in bed, hair unbrushed, eyes sharp and unfocused all at once. The moment she sees me, her face hardens.

“Where have you been?” she snaps.

“I” I take a step closer. “Mom, I’m here now.”

She looks past me, scanning the doorway. “Where’s your brother?”

My chest tightens. “I don’t know.”

Her hand closes around the plastic cup on her tray.

O

Her eyes widen. “Of course.”

We walk to the desk. I open my banking app, fingers steady now, and decide not to think about it.

One month.

I tap confirm.

The screen loads.

The payment goes through.

The nurse’s mouth parts slightly. The other nurse beside her stares at the screen like she expected it to decline.

Even Camille looks at me, eyes wide.

“Have a good night,” I say quietly.

We leave without another word.

As we reach Camille’s car, she pauses and looks at me sideways.

“How did you manage a full month?” she asks quietly.

I open the passenger door and hesitate. “I got promoted.”

Her brows lift. “Promoted?”

“Not the kind that comes with balloons,” I add dryly. “Rowan gave me an advance. And a black card.”

Camille freezes. “A black card?” she repeats.

“For a wardrobe,” I say, already sliding into the seat. “Apparently I’m not allowed to look like I survived a library collapse anymore.”

Her grin is immediate. Bright. Unapologetic. “Oh my god.”

I glance at her. “Don’t.”

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Chapter 23

She’s already bouncing a little as she gets into the driver’s seat. “I am absolutely going to.”

“Camille.”

She starts the car, still smiling. “You realize what this means, right?”

“That I’m in debt to my boss in more ways than one?” I mutter.

“That you’re getting new clothes,” she corrects, pulling out of the lot. “Proper ones. Shoes. Jackets. Everything.”

I lean my head back against the seat, exhausted. “This is not the time.”

She glances at me, softer now. “Actually? It kind of is.”

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The CEO Above My Desk