Dating the Bossy CEO Next Door
Chapter 50- You wouldn’t dare

Chapter 50: Chapter 50- You wouldn’t dare

From the moment she stepped into the lobby, Morrison’s eyes found her—instantly, unexplainably.

He didn’t even know why. She wasn’t dressed to stand out. A soft blue-gray chiffon dress, modest in both color and cut, yet somehow, on her, it looked... poised. Serene. Effortlessly composed.

Monna, on the other hand, was still nestled against his chest, eyes wide with surprise and—now—opportunity. He hadpulled her in first, after all. Of course she would make the most of it, curling her arms around his waist and leaning into him, content to play the part.

But the second she noticed his gaze glued to a distant figure—the little girl in the soft dress—she let go.

With the grace of a woman who’d been through this before, she stepped back, folding her arms and tilting her head up to study him, a teasing smile dancing on her lips.

"No wonder you’ve always brushed me off," she said, voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Turns out you’re into fresh-faced little girls, huh?"

Morrison didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were still fixed on the elevator where Lilian had just disappeared. When he finally looked back at Monna, his expression was unreadable.

"Even if you were ten years younger," he said flatly, "I still wouldn’t be interested."

And with that, he walked off.

No warning. No apology. Just a curt dismissal that felt colder than any rejection she’d ever received.

"You—!"

Monna’s face twisted in indignation.

"Morrison, you bastard! You hugged me, so you better take responsibility!"

He didn’t even look back.

Monna, of course, wasn’t one to be defeated so easily. She clicked after him in her heels like nothing had happened.

Behind them, Sean and Norton exchanged a look—and then couldn’t help chuckling.

"Her resilience is terrifying," Sean muttered. "Any other woman would’ve stormed off by now."

"Yeah," Norton sighed. "But she’s not here for dignity. She’s here for him."

The plan had been to celebrate the successful wrap of a joint project. Monna had been trying to get Morrison to agree to dinner for weeks now, and now that the contract was finalized, Morrison had finally relented—but only after insisting that Sean and Norton come along too. Anything to avoid a one-on-one.

When Morrison had announced that little addition back at the office, Monna had looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.

Still, she’d agreed. As always.

Love—or whatever her version of it was—worked in strange ways. Monna would rather be humiliated by Morrison than loved by any of the dozens of men chasing after her. And Morrison? He would rather be cold-shouldered by a certain little girl than give Monna even half a chance.

Over dinner, Monna couldn’t resist poking the bear.

"So," she said, swirling her wine, "that girl just now—who was she?"

Morrison didn’t answer. The silence stretched.

"Come on, Morrison," she teased. "You hugged me, but your eyes were all over her. Blue-gray chiffon, cute little thing. Don’t tell me you didn’t see her."

His eyes darkened instantly.

Gotcha, Monna thought.

"You don’t need to tell me. I’ll find out myself," she added, voice purring with satisfaction. "Plenty of your employees visit my salons. I’ll just ask around."

That did it.

Morrison’s smile vanished.

"You wouldn’t dare."

Monna giggled, utterly delighted.

"Aww, look at you. Protective, are we?"

He was just about to lose it when Norton quickly stepped in to defuse the tension.

"Okay, Monna," he said lightly, "how about we leave the boss’s personal life out of tonight? We’re here to celebrate a successful partnership, not to grill Morrison about his type."

Monna raised her hands in mock surrender, still smiling—but this time, she backed off.

Smart woman. She could read a room when she needed to.

For the rest of dinner, she didn’t mention Lilian again.

Instead, she chatted about work. Deals. Trends in the market. She kept things professional, charming, poised.

But every so often, she’d steal a glance at Morrison.

And every time—every single time—his gaze was somewhere else entirely.

By the end of the night, Monna was too drunk to keep up appearances. Morrison handed her over to Norton, leaving with Sean without looking back.

In the parking lot, Monna collapsed against Norton’s chest and cried, makeup running down her face and staining his shirt.

"It’s over. I’ve completely lost him," she sobbed. "I saw the way he looked at that girl today... and I just knew."

Her tears were bitter, but real.

"I’ve known him for years," she continued, voice breaking, "and not once have I ever seen him so tense over a woman. I knew none of those other girls meant anything to him. That’s why I wasn’t afraid to chase him slowly, patiently..."

Mascara smudged down her cheeks as she clutched at Norton like a lifeline.

"I thought I could just stay quietly by his side, and one day, when he was finally ready to settle down, he’d look back and see me."

"But now... he’s not looking anymore."

That strong, ambitious, always-in-control Monna was gone. What remained was a fragile, devastated woman, grieving a love she never truly had.

Norton stayed silent throughout.

He didn’t comfort her. Didn’t deny her pain. He simply stood there and let her cry.

He knew—probably better than anyone—that Monna’s love for Morrison hadn’t been an act. It wasn’t just vanity or a conquest. She had fallen for him, hard and real. And because she understood that Morrison hated being chased, she had always stayed in control, always kept just the right distance.

She’d made herself easy to be around. Pleasant. Elegant. Unthreatening.

All so she could stay close.

But now it was over.

Because that girl—whoever she was—had ended it all without even trying.

Once Monna had cried herself out, Norton gently helped her into the car and drove her home.

That night, everything felt wrong.

So wrong that Norton, the most disciplined man in the company—who hadn’t been late to work once in all his years—showed up the next morning a full thirty minutes late. In yesterday’s clothes.

Morrison didn’t comment. But Sean?

Sean nearly lost his mind trying to get answers.

"What happened? What did she say? Did she try anything? Did you try anything?"

Norton said nothing. Not a word.

Sean nearly leapt out the window from frustration.

Meanwhile, the office was buzzing.

Gossip about Morrison and Monna was at an all-time high. Someone had even speculated they might be engaged soon.

Lilian, for her part, thought Morrison’s new romance meant she could finally breathe.

But no.

Even if he wasn’t showing up in person, his name was everywhere. Constant whispers, constant talk—her coworkers dissected his life like it was a daily drama.

And Lilian?

Lilian was stuck listening. Over and over again.

Elsewhere, bigger things were falling apart.

Bert, now back in the country, had launched a full-on attack against Laurent. Dave’s attention was consumed by the fallout. _{fr\(e)ew(e)b.(n)o (v)(e)l.com}

But no one had expected Bert’s true move—to take Tiffany and little Emma.

Tiffany, Dave’s mother. Emma Washington, his daughter with Laurent.

With just that, Bert had placed the entire Burg Eltz family under pressure.

The moment Morrison heard the news, he didn’t hesitate. He called Lilian immediately.

His heart was racing, rage bubbling just beneath the surface.

If Bert dares lay a finger on her, Morrison thought coldly, I’ll make him regret ever being born.

Luckily, Lilian answered.

Her voice was shaky, but she was safe.

"I’m okay... but my mom, and Emma—"

Morrison’s tone sharpened. "Where are you right now?"

"At the old manor. With my father and the Lord."

He didn’t say anything else. Just one sentence.

"I’m coming."

Then he hung up.

Only a handful of words—but they worked like a sedative. On the other end, Lilian exhaled.

Steady. Grounded.

He was coming.

After the call, Lilian turned to comfort her distraught father and the Lord of the House, both of whom were boiling over with worry and fury.