CEO'S GIRL CHAPTER 5

The flight to Geneva was a quiet, private affair. Elizabeth had expected Edward to bury himself in work, but he had left his phone in his briefcase, a silent but profound gesture. He spent the journey watching her, his gaze intense, as if trying to decipher the new code of her existence. They arrived in Switzerland to a world of breathtaking majesty. The crisp, clean air of the Alps was a stark contrast to the smog-choked city they had left behind. Their first stop was a private villa overlooking the serene, impossibly blue waters of Lake Geneva. The gentle lapping of waves against the shore was the only sound, a peaceful melody that seemed to strip away the pretense and formality of their lives.

For the first time, Edward wasn’t a CEO and Elizabeth wasn’t a wife. They were two people, standing on a terrace, watching the sun dip below the jagged peaks. That evening, he planned a quiet dinner in a secluded restaurant in the heart of Montreux. He spoke little, but his every action was an act of quiet service—pulling out her chair, pouring her wine, his hand resting on the small of her back as they walked. She was used to his coldness, his professional detachment, but this new attentiveness was a foreign, intoxicating thing.

The next day, their journey took them deeper into the mountains. They boarded a panoramic train that snaked its way through the snowy peaks, through tunnels of rock and over impossibly high bridges. Elizabeth was mesmerized, pressing her face to the window, her breath fogging the glass as she watched the world unfold in a kaleidoscope of white and green. Edward watched her, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. He had seen the Alps countless times on business trips, but seeing them through her eyes, seeing her wonder and joy, made them new again. They disembarked in a small, car-free village, a place where time seemed to stand still, and the only sound was the gentle ringing of cowbells. They spent the day walking through cobblestone streets, stopping for hot chocolate in a quaint café, their shoulders brushing with a comfortable intimacy that was completely foreign to them.

As night fell, they retreated to their hotel suite, a sprawling, modern space with a massive window that looked out onto the silent, snow-dusted mountains. A roaring fire was lit in the hearth, casting a warm, dancing light across the room. The air was thick with a new kind of tension, not of awkwardness or coldness, but of a raw, unbridled desire that had been simmering just beneath the surface all day.

Elizabeth had changed into a silk robe, the soft fabric clinging to her every curve. She stood by the window, a glass of wine in her hand, watching the moon rise over the snow-capped peaks. She felt a kind of power she had never known before, a confidence that had been awakened by his new vulnerability. She had seen his anger and his regret, his need and his quiet surrender. She had tamed the rock.

She turned to face him. He was standing in the center of the room, his jacket and tie shed, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked less like a CEO and more like a man on the edge, his dark eyes fixed on her. The silence in the room was louder than any words. It was filled with unspoken needs, with the memories of a drunken kiss and a tender apology. She walked slowly toward him, her movements a deliberate dance. The air crackled between them.

He met her in the middle, taking the wine glass from her hand and setting it on a nearby table. His hand went to her jaw, his thumb stroking her skin. "I was a fool," he murmured, his voice a low, rough confession. "All this time… I had you, and I didn't see you."

"You see me now," she whispered, her voice a low murmur.

"Yes," he said, his grip on her jaw tightening slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "And now I can’t stop. I can't think of anything else." He leaned in, and the kiss that followed was nothing like the soft, hesitant one from before. This was a kiss of raw possession, of a need that had been starved for far too long. He pushed her against the wall, his body caging hers, his lips consuming hers with a fierce, hungry passion. She met his intensity with her own, her hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. There was no gentleness here, only a desperate, uninhibited desire to possess and be possessed. His hands moved from her waist to her hips, pulling her flush against him, and the world outside the window—the perfect, pristine snow, the silent moon—faded into nothing.

He lifted her into his arms without a word, carrying her to the bed, their lips never separating. The kiss deepened, a tempest of passion that felt both dangerous and exhilarating. He was a force of nature, a storm, and she was willingly caught in it. This wasn't romance in the conventional sense. This was the unraveling of two broken people, finding a raw, powerful connection in the most desolate corners of their souls. This was the dark, beautiful, consuming reality of a CEO who had finally found the one thing he couldn't control.

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