The CEO's Stage

TESSA

The savory, unmistakable aroma of sizzling bacon drifted through the slightly open bedroom door, pulling me from a restless, fragmented sleep. I blinked against the morning light filtering through the blinds, my mind instantly flashing back to the suffocating argument with Oscar just hours ago. The lingering dread from last night still sat heavy in my chest, but the smell of breakfast meant only one thing.

I turned my head and looked at the small figure beside me. Ivy was tangled in her blankets, her soft breaths filling the quiet space. A genuine, warm smile tugged at my lips, chasing away the shadows of the previous night. I reached out and gently brushed a stray curl from her forehead.

"Wake up, sweetie," I whispered, rubbing her shoulder. "It is time to get ready for school."

She shifted, her nose wrinkling as she took a deep breath. Her eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep. "It smells so good," she murmured, her voice thick and raspy.

"Go brush your teeth," I told her, pressing a kiss to her warm cheek.

Leaving her to wake up, I pushed myself off the mattress and headed downstairs. My bare feet padded softly against the hardwood floor. I stepped into the kitchen and found the exact scene I expected. Oscar stood by the stove, expertly flipping a strip of bacon in a hot pan.

This was his classic, predictable move. Cause a massive argument, refuse to listen or back down, and then cook a hot meal the following morning to smooth things over.

Hearing my footsteps, he turned around and offered a wide, practiced smile. "Morning. Come on, I made us breakfast."

He stepped away from the stove and pulled out a chair at the small dining table. I walked over and took a seat. He immediately set a warm plate in front of me. Freshly cooked scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and golden, buttered toast. It did smell incredible, but my appetite felt hollow.

"Thank you," I said softly, keeping my gaze lowered to the table.

Oscar sighed, pulling out the chair next to mine and sitting down. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the surface. "Listen, I am sorry about my behavior last night. It was uncalled for, and I promise you, it will not happen again."

I stared at the eggs on my plate, tracing the edge of the ceramic with my thumb. I had heard this exact speech too many times before. "Do not make promises you cannot keep, Oscar," I told him quietly.

The air in the kitchen shifted. His relaxed posture stiffened, and a sharp edge of frustration quickly replaced his apologetic tone. "Why are you still upset? I just apologized to you. I woke up early and made this breakfast to make it up to you. What else do you want me to do?"

I looked up, meeting his annoyed gaze. It baffled me how little emotional intelligence he possessed at times. He genuinely believed a plate of bacon could erase the stinging words and the blatant disregard he had shown me.

"I need time, Oscar," I reminded him, keeping my voice steady. "I appreciate this gesture you made. But you cannot expect me to tap into another mood and start smiling the exact second you decide to apologize. My emotions do not have an on-and-off switch that you can flip at your convenience."

His jaw tightened. He opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue his point, but the rapid pitter-patter of small footsteps echoed down the hallway. Ivy practically bounced into the kitchen, her eyes wide as she took in the food on the table.

"I want to eat!" she announced, rubbing her stomach. "It smells so good."

The heavy, stagnant domestic tension between Oscar and me snapped. He immediately softened, reaching down and lifting Ivy effortlessly into the air before placing her onto her chair. "It does, huh? Let us get you a plate."

Watching Ivy dig into her breakfast with eager enthusiasm brought a real, warm smile to my face. Her presence was a grounding force, easily lifting the dark cloud hanging over the kitchen. We ate the rest of the meal in relative peace, letting Ivy’s morning chatter fill the silence.

As I finished the last bite of my toast, Oscar set his coffee mug down and cleared his throat. "I forgot to tell you something," he said casually. "My company is hosting its annual celebration party tomorrow evening. Will you come with me to the party?"

I hesitated, thinking about the logistics. "First I need to ask Val if she is free to babysit Ivy."

Even as I said the words, I knew Valerie would jump at the chance. She absolutely adored spending time with Ivy, and I knew my daughter would be in the safest hands possible.

"Yeah, of course," Oscar nodded, checking the clock on the microwave.

"I will let you know."

***

"We are running late, babe," Oscar’s impatient voice called out from the living room the following evening.

"Coming!" I grabbed my small evening clutch and hurried out of the bedroom, my agonizingly high heels clicking sharply against the floor. I paused in the hallway, adjusting a stubborn stray piece of hair that had slipped from my updo, and walked into the living room.

Oscar was already dressed in a sharp suit, standing by the front door with his keys in hand. He let out a loud exhale as I approached. "Finally."

"So, how do I look?" I asked, smoothing down the fabric of my dress.

He turned toward me. He performed a very brief, distracted sweep of his eyes over my body. "Yeah, you look beautiful," he stated flatly, his tone lacking any real heat or interest. Before the words even fully registered, he looked down at his watch to check the time. "Let us go."

My excited smile faded into a tight line. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and followed him out the door. Lately, I felt completely invisible to him. He looked at me, but he did not really see me anymore. He seemed to view me as a routine fixture in his life, an expected piece of furniture. I constantly tried to excuse his dismissive attitude, blaming the immense work pressure he faced at his firm, but those excuses were wearing terrifyingly thin.

Attending the corporate party quickly proved to be a terrible decision.

The grand venue was packed with people dressed in expensive evening wear. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the crowd, and waitstaff weaved through the room balancing trays of drinks. The moment we arrived, Oscar dove straight into the crowd. He eagerly socialized, shaking hands and aggressively networking with his colleagues and superiors.

I was left sitting entirely alone at a small assigned table near the edge of the room. I was bored out of my mind. My feet throbbed in pain from the brutal high heels, and the few attempts I had made to converse with the wives of Oscar’s coworkers had resulted in shallow, awkward small talk that I had no energy to maintain.

With nothing else to do, I pulled out my phone and spent the hours scrolling mindlessly through Instagram just to pass the time.

When Oscar finally returned to our table, pulling out the chair next to mine, he looked energized and flushed from the networking. "Hey!" he greeted.

I did not bother hiding my irritation. I dropped my phone into my purse and looked at him. "This event is incredibly boring."

Oscar let out a light, dismissive chuckle. He opened his mouth to reply, but a loud, booming voice echoed over the venue's speakers, cutting him short.

"Warm greetings to all the ladies and gentlemen, as well as our distinguished guests," the announcer’s voice rang out, instantly quieting the massive room. "I would like to welcome all of you to our event and I hope you will enjoy being a part of it. I would now like to request Mr. Vaughn Vane, the CEO of Keystone Associates, to kindly come up here and share a few thoughts with us."

My heart intensely slammed against my ribs. The breath caught in my throat. I froze in my seat, my fingers gripping the edge of the table.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a fraction of a second, desperately trying to rationalize the sudden spike of panic in my blood. New York City was massive. There had to be more than one man named Vaughn living in this city. The chances of my boyfriend’s ultimate boss being that specific man were astronomically low.

I opened my eyes and looked toward the front of the room. The crowd parted, and a tall figure stepped up to the microphone.

The air was knocked completely out of my lungs.

It was him.

My unforgettable, passionate one-night stand from six years ago. The man whose face had haunted my memories was standing under the bright stage lights, commanding the attention of hundreds of people.

He leaned into the microphone. "Tonight, we are celebrating our company’s twenty-second anniversary, and I value you all who are sharing this special day with me."

I pressed a hand to my chest, desperately trying to calm my racing pulse. I told myself that he likely would not recognize me in a crowded room this large. Six years had passed. I was just a brief encounter in his past.

I tuned out the rest of his speech, the words blurring into a meaningless hum in my ears. However, I was deeply affected by the commanding authority of his deep, baritone voice. It vibrated through the speakers, demanding respect and attention from every single person in the room. Even from a distance, I could see the perfect, tailored fit of his expensive dark suit. It clung to his broad shoulders and chest, radiating an air of untouchable confidence.

I forced myself to look up at his face again, and the moment I did, the floor felt like it dropped out from beneath me.

His sharp brown eyes were locked directly onto me.

He was not scanning the crowd anymore. He was staring straight at my table, straight at my face. Recognition shone clearly in his intense gaze. The noise of the party, the clinking glasses, the murmuring crowd—it all faded away. The silence between us felt heavy and electric. His stare held mine hostage, pinning me to my chair and making it physically impossible for me to look away or break the connection.

"Is he looking at you?" Oscar’s voice suddenly cut through my trance, pulling my senses back to reality.

I jerked my head away from the stage, breaking the intense eye contact. My heart hammered wildly against my chest, threatening to crack my ribs. "I do not know," I muttered under my breath.

The walls of the venue suddenly felt too tight. I needed to move. I was desperate to escape the heavy weight of Vaughn’s gaze.

"I need a drink," I told Oscar abruptly. I grabbed my purse, stood up on my aching feet, and bolted away from the table before he could question me further.

I navigated blindly through the sea of people, making a direct line for the long mahogany bar at the back of the hall. I told myself I would grab a single, strong drink. The crowd behind me suddenly erupted into loud, roaring applause, signaling the end of Vaughn's speech. Perfect. I would get my drink, march back to the table, and convince Oscar to take me home immediately.

I leaned against the smooth surface of the bar counter, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. I vowed to myself right then and there that this would be the absolute last time I ever crossed paths with Vaughn Vane.

Suddenly, a deep, familiar voice spoke directly beside me.

"Scotch, on the rocks."

I froze in pure panic.