The CEO’ s second choice

Business or Pleasure

Elena

It was Saturday, day six of me being here, and I still could not find my phone. I did not want to

know how pissed off Sebastian was with me by now. It was not deliberate; I hope he knew that. Why

was I so worried about what he thought about me and my vacation? He probably had other women in

his bed by now. Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

I was terrible at remembering numbers, and I never had to call him before, so I just did not bother. I

could not recall his company’s name either, so I could not call him at work to tell him I had lost my

phone.

It was dusk, and the sun was starting to set, so I decided to head out to a cocktail bar tonight and

let my hair down. Obviously, I would not be drinking because of my low tolerance for alcohol, but I

would sip on shandies.

I took the elevator down to the lobby, and the hotel concierge greeted me. “Benito, do you have a

lost and found? I seemed to have misplaced my cell phone.” I ask him, still worried about the damn

thing. But Benito shakes his head, “We do not, Ma’am but I will pass this along to the other staff to

keep a lookout.” He answers me and I thank him before heading out. It was a lovely evening out when I

headed to the cocktail bar close by.

Dressed in a pair of shorts, a halter neck top and wedge heels, I felt the light evening breeze over

my skin and a shiver went down my spine. The past week had been absolute bliss, I relaxed more each

day, and yet each evening my anxiety grew.

I swallowed down another wave of anxiety and walked up to the bar area, ordering myself a non-

alcoholic shandy. Tenerife was beautiful, I could certainly see myself coming here again if I needed to

get away for some or other reason. The beaches offered freedom, the forest seclusion… It was exactly

what I needed right now.

While sipping on my third drink, I feel a pair of eyes on me and glance up. Across the bar was a

well-dressed man about my age and he was incredibly handsome. Blonde hair, green eyes and very

well built. I meet his eyes and he offers me a flirtatious smile, which I return; he then took this as an

invitation and walked over to where I was seated.

“Hi there,” he starts with the weakest intro line and I had to stop the scoff that almost escaped my

mouth. He had an American accent and took a swig of the glass he was holding. “Hi,” I answered with

a pleasant smile, wishing this man did not take my smile earlier as an invitation. I took a sip of my

shandy again so I would have something to do,

“Business or pleasure?” he asks, and I look at him in confusion. What kind of question was that?

“You being here, business or pleasure?”

“Oh, pleasure. I’m on vacation. What about you?” I tell him, trying not to reveal too much about

myself, but opening my mouth to speak seems to get his full attention. It must be my accent. “It’s

different for me, a bit of both actually.” He answers suddenly with a sly smile on his face, and I take

another sip of the shandy in front of me.

“I’m Michael,” he says while holding out his hand for me to take, which I do. “Elena, pleased to

meet you,” I say and my eyes flash to my wedding ring and Sebastian was at the forefront of my

thoughts again. I shouldn’t be here in a bar with strange men, I’m a married woman of high society.

“I should be going, my husband is waiting for me,” I say, then leave a tip for the bartender before I

move to stand up. But as soon as I got off the barstool, I wished I had remained seated as my vision

went incredibly blurry.

Oh no, did they give me an alcoholic beverage by mistake?

The man named Michael grabs me by the waist, “Woah, easy there, Seems you had a bit too

much to drink.” I heard him say, but he sounded so far away. I tried to shake my head to tell him I just

had the one shandy, but he started leading me out of the bar. “Is there anywhere I can take you, hun?”

He asked me and I nod, “Royal Hideaway,” I replied, my speech slurred and I heard him chuckling at

my answer.

“So not only are you a gorgeous bitch, but you’re a rich one too, and all alone. I’ve been watching

you all night and there’s no husband waiting for you out here. Only me.”

What? What was happening? I saw the Royal Hideaway, but Michael started leading me the other

way towards what I could vaguely make out as the back of the cocktail bar. Oh, no. Oh, please God no!

Before I knew it, Micheal had me up against a wall and was slobbering all over my neck. I tried to

push him away, but I was too weak to do anything. My vision started blurring more before I heard

Michael crying out my name.

Then everything went dark.

***

Sebastian

I pace Elena’s hotel room and punch the wall in frustration. The hotel staff said she left about thirty

minutes ago, so she could be anywhere. Why couldn’t I have arrived sooner? When I questioned the

concierge, he told me she had lost her phone, so that would make sense why she had not contacted

me since she left the villa almost a week ago.

But it still begs the question, why did my wife feel the need to run from me?

I leave the confines of the hotel and slowly walk around the area, showing pictures of Elena to

passers-by, but no one recognizes her. There was a small cocktail bar up ahead, and I wondered to

myself if she did not maybe go here for the evening. I didn’t know Elena as the bar type, but it couldn’t

hurt to try.

I enter the bar and head towards the counter, signalling the bartender over. “How can I help?” he

asks me with a genuine smile, and I hold up my phone to show him Elena’s picture. “Have you seen

her?” I ask him, and see him pale a bit, but he shakes his head, “No,” he answers me, then walks

away.

He was lying, and this made see red. What would he need to lie about? I jump over the counter

and pin him to the wall.

“Do not bullshit me, have you seen my wife?” I ask him again through gritted teeth and take in his

wide-eyed look of shock. This arsehole knew what happened to Elena, and for some reason, he felt the

need to lie. Rearing my fist back to punch him, he holds up his hands in surrender and changes his

tune.

“Yes! Yes, I have! She left a few minutes ago with some American guy. She was drunk and he

helped her walk out.”

Drunk? Oh no, that can’t be. Elena would never get drunk, not while she was in a strange country

and with her weak disposition. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes! They took a left up ahead!” The bartender cries out, and I let him go, rushing out of the

cocktail bar and turning left, calling for my wife, but getting no response.

“Elena!” I called out again, hoping she could hear me and come back to me. These past few days

have been nothing short of misery. The villa felt even colder without her there, and I wondered how I

coped without her presence before.

It was pretty dark on this side of the alley, and I wondered if the bartender was bullshitting me yet

again. I was about to turn around to beat the truth out of him, but then I spotted a couple in an alleyway

that I passed by.

Something was off about the couple; the woman looked to be close to unconsciousness, but the

man was pawing at her exposed chest. She lifts up her hand to push him away, then I see it and my

vision goes red.

Elena’s wedding ring.

I run faster than I ever thought possible and pull the bastard off my wife. “What the-” He started,

but before he could finish, my fist collided with his face repeatedly. This man was forcing himself on my

wife, my Elena, and she clearly looked drugged.

When I eventually pulled myself off of him, his face was a bloody mess and he was gurgling in his

own blood. I take out my phone to call the police as well as an ambulance for Elena. When I pocket my

cell phone, I go over to her as she lay unconscious on the cold tar. Covering up her exposed chest and

pulling her towards me, I inhale her familiar scent.

I never thought I would find her like this, vulnerable and nearly taken advantage of. I shudder to

think what would have happened if I did not discover where she had run off to, or the hotel she had

been staying in. What would have happened if I ignored my gut instinct and walked past the cocktail

bar?

My Elena would have lost her light and she would have blamed herself.

I hear the sirens as they approach the alleyway. The police take in the scene with shock and

proceed to take my statements as the medics load my wife into the ambulance van. As soon as the

police were done, they request a rape kit on Elena and blood tests to determine if she had been

drugged or not. I advised them to question the bartender because he looked guilty when I asked about

Elena and they said they would follow it up.

Sitting in the ambulance van, I eventually breathed a sigh of relief. I finally got Elena back, but this

was not how I pictured our reunion to be. She has broken my trust and last remnants of dignity, and I

was not sure if I could forgive her for this.