Ordinary Human Mated to an Alpha CEO

CELINA'S POV -- The city was alive-- not in the warmth of summer, but in the coldness of winter. The fireplaces were lit, the smoke filling the air through the ventilators and chimneys, the streets were being scraped and thawed, and I, Celina Ashthorn, am wrapping up the last of my designs for the day in the cozy corner of my favorite cafe. Some people would call this a miserable day, almost everyone would, except me. I found a dress for Sean's Christmas brunch at his work tomorrow, with matching heels, and all under an hour-- which meant I didn't have to spend the entire morning in the mall. Shutting my laptop, I slide it into its bag, zipping it up and I leave enough money for my drinks plus tip on the table and leave the cafe. It's strange that Sean hasn't texted me back yet, but perhaps his car got snowed in at work. I could only imagine how irritable he'd be when he got home, but at least he lives close to his job, Connect Co, where he's been working his ass off for the last couple of months. I glance at my phone, checking the time -- I'm actually checking to see if he messaged me back, but when I notice that my phone is dryer than the desert, I sigh and leave the cafe. Sean and I haven't had a date night in weeks, and I miss him. He continues to apologize for canceling plans with me, saying that he just has so much work to do because of the deadline he was given and I've told him, 'It's okay,' one too many times, because it's starting to feel not-so alright. It feels like a rift is tearing at us, and I feel horrible for feeling like that. He works hard. He loves his job. I just wish he loved me that much too. "Bye, Celina!" My favorite waiter beams as she passes with a new customer in tow. I smile, "Cash on the table," I tell her, winking as I pass and she thanks me before I step out into the icy cool air, snow and ice covering the streets, the top of cars, the plants, the sidewalks. It's everywhere-- and I love it. I've always loved snow since I was a kid. I watch every step I take, walking slow to make sure that I won't slip on the ice as I make my way to my car, where I sit for about five minutes staring at my phone, hoping Sean would text or call, while my car heats up. Arriving home, I plop all of my things onto the counter before deciding to text Sean. Celina: Come over, I'll make you dinner. I stare at my screen for what feels like hours before the dots appear, and my heart leaps, but then seconds go by, more and more, and that excitement in my belly slowly dies with suffocation when I finally accept what is coming. Sean: Can't tonight, but I'll meet you at the brunch. Love you. My eyes skim the text and widen. It took him that long to text that? Did he rewrite it a million times? It does sound like him...always thoughtful of my feelings. He once brought me soup for a week straight when I was sick. Soup and ice cream. I toss my phone onto the couch, pour a glass of wine in my small kitchen and plop down on the comfortable fluffy sofa, turning the tv on. The excitement of tomorrow's Christmas brunch is downgraded by the dinner afterwards that we have with his parents. My eyes flit towards the pile of Christmas presents beneath my small tree in the corner. It's white, like snow, with red, green and gold decorations, tinsels and even the wrapping paper matches those colors well. I down my glass of wine, take a shower and crawl into bed with my heater blanket on two. -- My morning routine is simple. I wake up, text Sean good morning, use the bathroom, brush my teeth and then take a long shower while my playlist blasts from my room. I eat breakfast afterward and start to work, but today is different. Today is Christmas Eve, and Sean's work brunch. Two hours later, I'm ready with a full face of makeup, hair curled, wearing my new bright red dress with matching heels. I went a tad over board with the tennis bracelet, but when I saw it, I knew I had to have it. It was beautiful, and some part of me was just done asking for one. It isn't real diamonds, but they shine all the same. My phone rings, and my heart swells at the sight of Sean's name. I answer the call with excitement, "Hi, honey." I beam, and he clears his throat, "I won't be able to pick you up for brunch. I have to go into work early." That excitement is wiped away like water with a dry rug. "Is everything alright?" I force my voice to stay calm, to keep that holiday spirit that's been failing me, over and over again. "Yes, see you there." He hangs up the phone abruptly, my organs twisting in an uncomfortable way. Slowly pulling the phone from my ear, I force a smile on my face even though no one is here -- because if I don't force that smile, I might just cry. I don't know what has gotten into him. I don't know why he's acting so cold towards me. It's just work stress-- that's what I keep telling myself, even though at the very back of my head, I feel like it's something entirely else. I leave half an hour before brunch starts, my earrings dangling from my ears in a shiny strand, and the drive is slow with the amount of snow that fell during the night, but I make it in time nonetheless. I park in the underground parking area, my heels clicking against the resin floors all the way to the elevator up to the reception area. The doors make a soft ding noise as it opens to an all white reception floor, red and green tinsel decorating the white desk, a small tree in the corner near the other elevators, and the only twinkling of lights is the massive chandelier in the middle. "Hi, Celina," Bronwyn beams, her tanned skin glowing, her hair in tight curls and her brown eyes sparkling with joy. "Bronwyn, Happy Holidays," I smile at her, and walk straight into muscle and cashmere with the smell of mint hitting me square in the face. I stumble back in this ridiculously high heels, slipping on the tiled floor as I go when two large hands grab my waist. "I'm so sorry," I blurt before even looking up and finding the most beautiful man I've probably ever seen. "Hello there," He breathes, his hands still on my waist even though I'm standing upright now. He has gorgeous sapphire blue eyes that seem to glow brighter than any gem. His jaw a sharp line like a knife, and his black hair falls in just the right places to skew on the line between messy and combed. "Thank you," I nod, stepping back from him. His eyebrows furrow together, "I haven't seen you here before," He straightens, running a hand down his blazer. "Oh, I don't work here," I shake my head, smiling at him, "I don't work here," My smile seems to brighten and widen, and there's a tingling sensation where there shouldn't be. The man in front of me shakes his head as if shaking away a trance, and sticks out his hand, "I'm Logan," he smiles, and it's the kind of smile I've seen one too many times before. At bars. At clubs. At the grocery store, and even the cafe. I glance down at his hand, and slip the handle of my purse onto my arm, holding it tighter to me, "Celina," I nod, ignoring his hand. He awkwardly laughs, as if he's nervous-- and it makes me feel horrible for not accepting his kind gesture. Not everyone is like them. "Sorry, I just...I'm late, and I really have to go," I beam apologetically. "Then I won't keep you, Celina," He nods, stepping out of my way, but the manner he said my name has me staring at him for a few seconds longer than I needed, or should have. I stride past him when he follows, "Where are you going again?" He asks, stepping up beside me as I hit the button for the elevator. I glance up at him, eyebrows furrowing. Perhaps he is like them. Maybe I shouldn't get on this elevator. I force those thoughts away. This is a tech company-- surely they have tons of camera's, including in the elevator. "Just up," I shrug, not really sure if I should believe this man's pure intentions. Perhaps he's going to the brunch too, or he's going to see somebody or even work. "Ah, not a woman of many words," He muses. The elevator dings as the doors pry open, and as I step inside, I pray to whomever may listen, that the ride upwards is swift and fast, or I might just tell the CEO that he has a s**t company if his elevator is slow as f**k. "Not really," I murmur, feeling awkward to remain silent as he steps into the elevator with me. We both reach for the same button, the sides of our hands bumping, and that tingling sensation returns. I snap my hand back, and fight the urge to look at him. Did he feel it too? Is there static in this f*****g elevator? My self-control crumbles like a dry cookie, and I mentally slap myself across the face when I glance at him, and he's staring at me like he's about to devour me whole. "What?" I ask despite my better judgement. Rule one: Do not provoke men while being alone. "Nothing," Logan shakes his head, eyes still on me like I'm a rare object and he cannot for the life of him look away. Staring ahead, I start to count the floors as the numbers flick by. The ding goes off again and Logan steps forward, but not to leave, no-- he holds the door open for me, "You look really nice in that dress," He says as I walk past him, and the funny part is-- I usually would have mentally freaked the f**k out already if anyone else complimented me, but the way he said it seems genuine, like he just said it because he truly thinks that and has no ulterior motives whatsoever. Glancing over my shoulder at him, I smile and say, "Thanks." Arriving at the office brunch with Logan trailing behind has my cheeks feeling warm and I'm more than aware of his presence. I spot Sean the second I walk in, and he's talking to another man near the large window, a drink already in hand. His gaze flick to me, and all the worry just bleeds out and I smile at him. He walks over, and slightly freezes when he sees Logan walking in behind me, and his eyes slightly widen, as if surprised. I excuse myself through the crowd until I'm at Sean's side. "Hello," I smile at him, leaning into him for a kiss when he pulls his head away, takes a step back and glances down at me, "Like the dress?" I ask, practically beaming. I shrug the white coat back to show him more when he grabs the coat and tugs it back over my shoulders, closing the fronts, "Pretty," he murmurs with disinterest, his gaze flicking past me before meeting my eyes. "Keep that on." He says it like a suggestion, and before I could question why, he grabs my wrist, "We're sitting here," He says, pulling a chair out and sits down, patting the one next to him. What the f**k has gotten into him?