intended for CEO

he women at the party? My fingers are shaking, and I can barely process what's happening. He knows who I am! Maybe not exactly who I am, but he has my name and my number, and that's more than I ex

hing in the drink. Because honestly, I've never been this out of it. And why doesn't he remember either? What kind of magic drink was that? The phone buzzes again. Another message. "I really don't remember what happened that night. Did we... sleep together?" Oh my God! He doesn't know either! This is not good. This is not good at all. My fingers freeze on the keyboard as I stare at the screen, trying to decide how to answer this question that, honestly, even I don't know the full answer to. What now? Do I say I think so? That I don't remember either? Or do I simply admit that my brain was cloudier than the weather forecast on a stormy day? I take a deep breath and start typing. "Look, Dante, I don't remember much either. Just lashes. I think so, but... I'm not sure." I send the message. And now... now I just have to hope that this story doesn't get even more complicated than it already is. I can barely breathe as I wait for the answer. My mind is racing, creating completely absurd scenarios. Dante Ferraz, the most famous heir in the city, is sending me messages and, worse, he also doesn't know if we slept together. How did I get into this mess? The phone vibrates again, and my heart practically jumps in my chest. I look at the screen, and Dante's message appears like a bomb ready to explode. "I think we should meet. Maybe it's better to talk in person." My first instinct is to run. I don't know where, but anywhere that doesn't involve meeting Dante Ferraz face to face seems like a good option. Does he want to see me? Talk in person? About what? What does he hope to resolve in a meeting like this? And how is he so sure that I'm the right person he should be talking to? My brain is going crazy. All the internal alarms are going off, and the words "imminent danger" flash in my mind like a neon sign. "This can't be happening," I mutter to myself, pacing the room as if that will help organize my thoughts. Why does he want to see me? What does he hope to find ou