GETTING THE HEART OF THE CEO

Lindsey raised an eyebrow, surprised by the strange expression on the man’s face.

“It was a calm day.”

“Should I assign you a car?” He didn’t take his eyes off his prey.This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

“It’s not necessary,” she replied, heading towards the stairs.

“Don’t be stubborn. You’re my wife, and you can’t take public transportation,” he indicated behind her.

“If you’re worried about what people will say about Mr. Pratt’s wife, don’t fret. It hasn’t been made public who he is. They only know you’re married,” she affirmed without turning to look at him and continued on her way.

Kyle watched her disappear from his sight, annoyed by her response. He went up the stairs straight to his room, pacing back and forth, bewildered. He didn’t understand what was happening with this young woman.

He entered the bathroom and took a shower, feeling every drop of water rolling down his body. He was confused, distressed, and suffocated by the things he was discovering about his wife. He tried to control his breathing, refusing to believe he had made a mistake with her.

‘What does she do on weekends? Is that when she meets her lovers?’ These were the questions swirling in his head.

It was Saturday. Lindsey woke up as usual, got ready, and went downstairs for breakfast. On her way to the kitchen, she was surprised to see Kyle sitting in the kitchen area with a coffee in hand. On a plate, there was a turkey ham and cheese sandwich, and next to it, a glass of orange juice.

“Good morning, Mr. Pratt! Enjoy your meal!”

“Good morning, Lindsey! None of that ‘Mr.,’ call me by my name.”

Yesterday it was ‘Mr.,’ today it’s Kyle. It’s like he’s bipolar. Lindsey smiled mischievously, walked past the coffee maker, avoiding eye contact, and poured herself a cup of coffee.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, she took a sip of her coffee while glancing at him, watching as he brought the cup to his mouth. The sensuality with which he did it fascinated her.

“Madam, please sit; I’ll serve your breakfast.”

Lindsey snapped out of her thoughts and sighed slowly, speaking affectionately.

“Enough of ‘madam.’ I’ve told you to call me Lin.”

Gladys blushed, feeling embarrassed for addressing her that way in front of Mr. Pratt.

Lindsey sat down to eat in silence, unsure of what to say or how to act in front of the neutral man next to her. She chose to remain silent until she finished eating.

“Thanks for breakfast, Gladys. As always, delicious,” she interrupted the silence, looking at Gladys, who returned the smile, then shifted her gaze to Kyle. “Excuse me, Kyle, I’m going to retire.”

He simply nodded.

She hurriedly climbed the stairs, entered her room, and gradually regained control of her heart rate.

‘Oh God, why does this ogre make me so nervous? Poor heart of mine, every time he’s near, it wants to leap out of my chest.’

Seeing her go up the stairs, Kyle stood up from his seat and strode to his office. He approached the window, waiting for his prey to leave the house.

Lindsey grabbed her purse, went down the stairs silently, praying not to encounter him on the way. She quickened her pace, got on a bus to a passenger terminal, took another public transport, traveled for an hour until she reached her destination, got off, and greeted a group of three people.

“Finally, you arrived, friend,” greeted Janna.

“Congratulations, Lin. Sorry I couldn’t accompany you yesterday on your big day. I had a commitment with my sweetheart.” With a wide grin, Luan kissed her on the cheek and hugged her tightly from side to side.

“Step aside, sweetie,” Stefany said, pulling Lindsey into a playful hug. Amidst laughter, the four friends entered through a door to the exterior of a house. Kyle watched as the guy flirted with Lindsey.

“Now what do we do?” Without answering, he got out of the car and, with broad steps, reached the entrance of a wall. He read a small sign on the right side of the door, [A GRAIN OF SAND MAKES THE DIFFERENCE.]

“Shall we go in?” he whispered to Freed, who was already by his side. The main door was ajar, he pushed it open, and as he peered inside, he was puzzled. It was a humble place, like an old duplex. At first glance, he saw a hallway. Taking quick steps, he walked down the corridor, and upon emerging, he saw a spacious courtyard surrounded by nature. His wife was laughing heartily, rolling a ball with some children-a scene so tender he hadn’t seen in a long time. He decided to stay in the shadows, and with long leaps, positioned himself on the side of the house by a large column. There, the two friends remained unseen.

“Pass me the ball, Lis!” Luan shouted, surrounded by children.

“Better to me? Luan, they’re cornering me!” Stefani ran back and forth, waiting for the ball.

“Pass it to them because I’m already caught,” Janna laughed with two children holding hands.

Seeing herself pursued by about five children between 5 and 8 years old, Lis threw the ball to Stefany, and the game continued.

Minutes earlier, as the young people entered the back of the house, they encountered a group of children with a ball waiting to play. Joyfully, they ran towards them.

“Can I help you with something, gentlemen?” The men were startled to see a middle-aged woman in front of them with a stern look. Freed felt embarrassed for hiding like a pervert. In a hesitant voice, he was about to respond when Kyle stepped forward.

“Good morning! Would you be so kind as to tell me, what are these young people doing here?” The woman’s expression reflected distrust at seeing two well-dressed men in her premises. She thought about the children and asked again with suspicion.

“Who are you?”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Freed Gregen, and this gentleman here is my friend Kyle Pratt. We’re here to get to know the place. Some young people came in, and we decided to visit. Could you tell us what this place is?”

“I’m Jimena Hoston, the director of this shelter for homeless children. I take care of approximately 20 children of different ages.”

“What are these young people doing here?” Kyle asked, curious and intrigued.