My CEO 409

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409 Friends Are Overrated

(Jayden)

The three-hour flight goes by in a blur. I suspect I slept through most of it, lost in a drunken haze, but I can't be sure. My head is pounding, a steady, merciless throb that matches the ache in my chest.

The alcohol dulled the fire, but it's like trying to put out a forest blaze with a glass of water. It's only made the edges of my grief sharper, more cutting.

The jet touches down in London, and I force myself upright, stumbling slightly as I exit. My vision swims, and I grab my briefcase just to have something solid to hold onto.

The fight with Lance replays in my mind, every punch, every accusation. And Winona's face-her eyes wide with shock, then hurt. The memory crushes me like a boulder, heavy and unrelenting.

Viktor is waiting. Of course he is. He's leaning against a sleek black SUV, arms crossed, his expression as impassive as ever. His eyes narrow as he watches me stagger down the steps of the jet.

always carries, moving toward me

the hell does he always know? How does everyone always know everything about me before

eyes? They're sharper

but it comes out bitter, tasting like poison. "More like a goddamn train wreck." My voice is hoarse, the words slurring just enough to make it obvious

stumble sideways. Viktor is

says, though it's not a question. His

though I nearly topple over again.

enough to keep me upright. "I heard about the fight,"

"Yeah? Well, who gives a fuck?" The words spill out,

for a moment, Viktor's face flickers with something-disappointment, maybe-but

leads me to the car, his silence infuriatingly calm. I collapse

mind won't stop spinning. Winona. Lance. Phillip.

silence. He finally speaks as we pull into the underground garage of our London building." You need rest, Jayden," he says, his voice steady. "You're not in any state to make

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Viktor helps me out

the staff nod politely, probably too used to seeing powerful men fall apart. The thought makes me sick. I'm supposed to be better than this.

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