Dating the Bossy CEO Next Door
Chapter 32- Do you miss me?

Chapter 32: Chapter 32- Do you miss me?

When Lilian and Tiffany returned from their trip abroad, it was Morrison who picked them up at the airport.

He’d told Dave he happened to be dropping off a friend at the airport and would just swing by to pick up the two of them on the way back.

Dave hadn’t thought much of it.

After all, in his mind, there was no way Lilian and Morrison could possibly be a thing.

First of all, he believed his sweet, obedient little sister would never go for someone like Morrison.

And secondly, Morrison? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d fall for an innocent, inexperienced girl like Lilian.

Most importantly—Dave trusted Morrison.

He genuinely believed Morrison would never cross the line with Lilian, out of respect for their years of friendship.

What he didn’t realize... was that some people had no fear of crossing any lines.

Not that Dave disliked Morrison.

If he did, they wouldn’t have remained close friends for so many years.

It was just that—when it came to women and relationships—their worldviews couldn’t be more different.

As Lilian and Tiffany stepped out of the arrival gate, the moment Lilian spotted Morrison waiting there—

Her heart nearly stopped.

She almost let go of the luggage cart and ran the other way.

For a split second, she thought he was here to... make their relationship public. Right here. In front of her mom.

Thank God Tiffany had been walking ahead and didn’t notice her moment of panic.

Tiffany was surprised too when she saw Morrison.

"Morrison? What are you doing here?"

Morrison’s expression remained calm as his gaze flicked past her—landing on the frozen little rabbit hiding behind the luggage cart.

He offered Tiffany a polite smile.

"I just dropped off a friend at the airport. Dave mentioned you’d be landing around the same time, so I figured I’d give you both a lift."

"Oh," Tiffany said with a smile. "Well, thanks then."

She and Morrison’s mother had been friends for years, so she didn’t feel the need to act overly formal or decline his offer.

"No trouble at all," Morrison replied casually.

Then, without waiting another second, he strode over to Lilian, his long legs quickly closing the distance—reaching out to take her suitcase from her hands.

When Lilian heard Morrison casually telling her mom he was "just picking them up on the way," she finally let out the breath she didn’t even know she was holding.

Thank God.

He wasn’t here acting like her boyfriend or anything.

Otherwise, she might’ve just collapsed on the spot—from sheer panic.

As he walked over to her, she quickly straightened up and put on her best stranger mode expression. With practiced politeness, she greeted him:

"Good afternoon, Mr. Morrison."

Since Tiffany was standing right there, Morrison merely gave her a brief glance and a small nod in return. Then he reached for her luggage cart and started pushing it for her—falling into step beside them as they headed toward the parking garage.

To Tiffany, his behavior didn’t seem out of place at all.

Helping with bags was just the gentlemanly thing to do.

The three of them made their way through the terminal.

Lilian walked arm-in-arm with her mother, keeping a careful, daughterly distance.

Morrison kept pace silently on Tiffany’s other side, pushing the cart.

Along the way, it was mostly Tiffany making small talk with Morrison—asking how Linda had been lately, and Morrison giving short, polite replies.

They weren’t that close, after all. And Linda was their only common topic.

On the ride back, Tiffany and Lilian sat in the back seat.

Tiffany, exhausted from the long-haul flight, leaned against the headrest and soon closed her eyes for a quick rest.

Lilian tried to act natural—calm, composed.

But the man driving up front kept sneaking glances at her through the rearview mirror.

Over. And over.

Until she started losing her composure.

She couldn’t say anything, not with her mom right beside her.

So all she could do was shoot him a warning glare: Cut it out.

But Morrison didn’t even blink.

His bold, unbothered gaze continued its silent teasing.

In the end, Lilian gave up.

She closed her eyes too—deciding if she couldn’t see him, then she wouldn’t be tempted to react.

They finally arrived. Lilian followed Tiffany back to her place.

Morrison, still in gentleman mode, carried all their bags upstairs without complaint.

Only after everything had been delivered did he politely excuse himself and drive off.

The moment he left, Lilian exhaled like she’d just survived a hostage negotiation.

Finally—some peace and quiet.

She and Tiffany began unpacking their luggage when Lilian’s phone buzzed with a message.

[Morrison]:

Let’s meet up later.

Lilian was still tired from the flight. She didn’t hesitate.

[Lilian]:

Maybe another day. I just want to rest tonight.

But his reply came almost instantly.

[Morrison]:

It’s been days. Don’t you miss me?

The message was so blunt, so direct—it made her cheeks heat up on reflex.

What kind of question was that?

Was she supposed to say "yes" just like that?

So instead, she typed back with a coy deflection.

[Lilian]:

Do you miss me?

After sending that last message, Lilian felt a flutter of nerves.

Would he say yes?

No?

Or maybe just "a little"?

She wasn’t sure what kind of answer to expect.

Not long after, his reply came in.

Just one word:

Yes.

And yet somehow, that one simple word...

hit her right in the heart.

She stared at her phone, fingers hovering above the screen, unsure how to respond.

This strange, messy, undefined relationship between them—

For it to suddenly carry such a direct, honest answer...

It stirred something inside her.

In the end, she couldn’t resist the pull of that word.

[Lilian]:

Where should we meet?

His reply came seconds later.

[Morrison]:

Just come downstairs. I haven’t left yet.

She blinked.

He was still there?

Waiting for her?

After hearing so many stories about Morrison—his charm, his flings, his reputation—

She couldn’t quite picture what it looked like for him to be waiting downstairs for someone.

Especially for her.

With no time to waste, she quickly gathered her things.

She stuffed the gift she’d bought for him in Paris into her suitcase, then turned to her mom.

"Mom, I’m heading back to my place. Got something I need to deal with."

Tiffany nodded without asking too much.

Lilian wheeled her luggage outside.

Morrison was sitting in his car, window rolled halfway down, a cigarette between his fingers.

He’d told himself earlier:

If I see her and still want her—I’ll stay. If not... I’ll leave.

And the fact that he was still here—still waiting—meant the decision was already made.

He hadn’t left.

He couldn’t.

Moments later, he saw her come out, suitcase in tow.

A smile instantly spread across his face.

He’d half expected her not to come. To leave him hanging again.

But there she was.

He stubbed out the cigarette, jumped out of the car, and crossed the distance in a few easy strides.

Without a word, he took her suitcase from her hand—

—and with the other, laced his fingers through hers.

Lilian gave him a shy smile but didn’t resist.

She let him hold her hand as he opened the door and guided her into the car.

As he pulled away from the curb, Morrison glanced over at her with a teasing smile.

"So," he said lightly, "your place, or mine?"

His voice was low, suggestive—completely shameless.

Lilian’s cheeks flushed instantly.

She rolled her eyes and huffed, "Why does it have to be either? Can’t we just go somewhere else?"

Morrison chuckled, deep and warm.

"I just thought you might be tired."

He gave her a look, eyes twinkling.

"I wanted you to be somewhere... comfortable."

Lilian flushed crimson.

She quickly averted her gaze and mumbled, "T-Then... my place, I guess..."

Was she just overthinking?

He had clearly said it in that flirtatious tone, yet still managed to look like some kind of gentleman.

Seriously—two-faced much?

They ended up at Lilian’s apartment.

And honestly, she was exhausted.

The moment she walked through the door, she dropped herself onto the couch like a sack of potatoes.

Morrison followed her in, carrying her pink suitcase. _{fre(e)webnove.l.c.om}

He looked at her sprawled on the couch and didn’t say a word.

After watching her lie there motionless for a good minute, he walked around her suitcase and asked, casually—

"What’s the password?"

Lilian immediately shot upright, alert and suspicious.

"Why?" she asked warily.

Morrison raised a brow and pointed at the suitcase.

"Didn’t you buy me a gift? I just want to take a peek."

Lilian: "..."

Who asks for their own gift like that?

She narrowed her eyes, deciding to burst his bubble a little.

"Who said it was for you? I didn’t buy anything for you."

Morrison leaned against her couch like he owned the place, one leg crossed over the other.

The pink suitcase sat obediently by his side like it already belonged to him.

He looked unbothered.

"Then why did you ask for my shirt size and favorite brand? Hmm?" he said with a lazy smile.

"Don’t tell me that wasn’t for me?"

Lilian smirked, refusing to give in.

"Maybe I was going to buy something, but changed my mind. Ever think of that?"

She expected him to be annoyed.

But she clearly underestimated his sheer shamelessness.

He crouched down and began fiddling with the lock on her suitcase, muttering confidently—

"No way. I know you bought something."

She couldn’t even begin to understand where his certainty came from.

Was it confidence?

Delusion?

Or just pure narcissism?

Still, he wasn’t wrong.

She had bought something for him. And seeing how determined he was to get to it, she finally sighed, stood up, and walked over.

"Fine. I’ll show you."

She flipped open the suitcase and pulled out the carefully wrapped items.

Two dress shirts.

One tie.

And a leather wallet.

She hadn’t known what to get him—Morrison never seemed like he needed anything.

So she’d simply chosen things she thought looked good.

And honestly, if he didn’t like them, she could always give them to her brother Dave.

It wouldn’t go to waste.

It was her first time buying something for a man.

And naturally, she had zero confidence about it.

As she handed the gifts over, she quickly added a disclaimer.

"I’m just saying—if you don’t like it or it doesn’t suit you, don’t feel like you have to keep it. I can just give it to my brother."

But Morrison only gave her a look.

A warm, amused look.

And said simply—

"If it’s from my girlfriend, I’ll love it. No matter what it is."

Morrison took the paper bag from her hand, and without hesitation, pulled her gently into his arms.

He held her close, eyes lowered, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Those captivating, electric peach-blossom eyes—

Lilian felt as if she were being struck by lightning, utterly dazzled.

Especially with the sweet words he whispered,

her heart fluttered uncontrollably.

She couldn’t help but think of her brother’s reaction to gifts, and muttered with a hint of sarcasm,

"My brother’s nothing like that. Laurent always bought him things, but he just complained they were ugly or tacky."

Morrison nodded knowingly and commented,

"Yeah... that’s probably why he’s divorced now."

Cold and indifferent all the time—no matter how tough the heart, it will break eventually.

How could he not get divorced?

Lilian was still mulling over her brother’s sad love life when suddenly—

Morrison’s face drew close to hers.

And then, he kissed her.

A kiss full of longing, burning away all doubts and hesitation.