Page 4 of Possessive CEO

“It was just five minutes and I didn’t–”

“What if a customer came in and saw nobody at the counter? They leave and we lose sales. Without sales, you won’t get paid.”

I don’t remind him that we’re the only cafe in town. If anyone wanted an overpriced cup of coffee, this is the only place to be. “Sorry. Won’t happen again,” I mumble.

I watch him as he walks around the counter and toward me until he’s standing just a foot away. I can smell his scent—a disgusting mix of sweat, body odor, and perfume. Mr. Jacques is as short as me but twice as wide, his belly hanging over his belt, buttons looking like they’re one deep breath away from popping.

“Are you tired of this job, Emily?”

Oh, boy. Here we go.

“Because I can always find a replacement for you. Wouldn’t be too hard to train someone to pull espresso shots and mix the drinks, right? Sure, you’re my oldest employee, but what about it? Does it mean you can half-ass things around here when I’m not around?”

I understand what he’s saying, but I’m working double time to not gag each time he opens his mouth. This close, a wave of pungent odor washes over me. My nostrils twitch, resisting the urge to recoil. What did he eat for lunch? Rotten fish?

“But you know… I’m not a bad boss,” he grins, exposing something stuck between his front teeth. Something green. “This will serve as your warning to not leave your post during work. You won’t die if you hold your pee.”

I need this job. I need this job. I need this job. I have to remind myself why I’m here. If I lose this, I won’t be able to pay our rent.

He moves closer to me and I clench my fists, physically stopping myself from stepping back and putting as much distance between us as possible. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he reaches out and runs his finger down my arm. “I’m an understanding man, Emily. Maybe I’ll be generous. Maybe I’ll give you a little extra bonus. I mean, I can be nice if you are.”

He lets the words hang in the air and it’s all I can do to not vomit everything I’ve eaten that day. In what world does he think I’m desperate enough for money that I’ll let him touch me more than this?

He licks his lips and leers at me. I clench my jaw tight as his hand reaches for my face. I can’t do this. I can’t take it anymore.

So I close my eyes, hoping his touch won’t linger. I can’t promise not to flinch, though.

But instead of his clammy hand on my skin, I hear something crash. My eyes snap open and I’m momentarily confused by the sight before me.

Someone is standing with his back to me. In an instant, I know it’s Ethan. I don’t know how I know. I just do.

Mr. Jacques is on the floor, the table behind him upturned. All the customers grab their cups and run outside, obviously realizing they don’t want the same fate as Mr. Jacques.

“Wh-who the f-fuck are you? Don’t you know me?” he stutters, beads of sweat on his forehead and spit flying out as he speaks. His whole face is red, but he shows no sign of getting up. And for the first time since I started working for him more than a year ago, he looks scared.

Ethan stands to his full height. I can’t see his expression but it must have been murderous because Mr. Jacques tries to make himself smaller. “I know who you are, you sick pervert. You won’t be able to touch her again, but if you continue this disgusting behavior, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your days rotting in jail.”

Mr. Jacques is wise enough to keep his mouth shut. He’s no match for Ethan. It’s easy to see that. Speaking of which…

He spins on his heel and walks toward me. He’s still vibrating with fury, and I don’t fully understand why or what he’s doing here. With his finger, he tips my chin until I’m gazing into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“M-me? Uh… Y-yeah. Y-yeah, I-I’m o-okay.” Well done, Emily. Now he’s gonna think you’re incapable of simple speech.

“Let’s get out of here.” He grabs my arm lightly and leads me to the door. I’m almost outside when my mental faculties finally return.

“Wait,” I tell him as I pull back. “Where are you taking me? I’m working.”

He doesn’t even blink when he says, “Not anymore.”

“No! I can’t quit this job. I need it. Please. He won’t do that again. I can’t lose this job,” I plead, voice reeking with desperation. I think of Mel and her swimming lessons. Her school fees. Our rent. Food.

Ethan’s expression softens and he runs a thumb along my jaw, making me flush from head to toe. “No, you don’t. Let’s talk outside. I need you to trust me.”

Logically, I know I shouldn’t. I just met him three days ago. We barely exchanged a few words. I don’t even know his full name or what he does for a living. He could be a murderer or kidnapper.

But no. My gut says he’s none of those things.

Without another word, I let him lead me into his truck. I’m still wearing my uniform, complete with an apron. The moment I sink into his plush leather seat, I almost groan. The sweet relief of sitting after hours of standing.

---