The CEO and the Country Wildflower chapter 1

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The CEO and the Country Wildflower


Chapter 1: The Bridge, the Shove, and the Slap


The late afternoon sun glinted off the glass towers of Lasmington’s financial district, but Lucas York saw none of it. His skull throbbed with the familiar, merciless vise-grip of a migraine, his vision narrowing to a painful tunnel. Another boardroom victory, another wave of agony. Just get to the lake.


The small park near York Group’s headquarters was his only refuge. Quiet. Isolated. No sycophants, no investors clawing for his attention. Just the rhythmic lap of water against the shore. He loosened his tie, rolling his stiff shoulders as he stepped onto the wooden bridge that arched over the lake. And then he saw her.


A woman in a rumpled blouse and pencil skirt stood at the bridge’s highest point, her arms outstretched, her body swaying dangerously over the railing. Lucas’s pulse spiked. She’s going to jump. His migraine flared white-hot, but he moved without thinking. "Wait—don’t!" he barked, breaking into a sprint. Emelly Clus barely had time to register the shout before a hard shove sent her pitching forward—not from her own momentum, but from the idiot now barreling into her. "What the—?!" The water swallowed her scream. Cold. Dark. Panic.


Her limbs flailed as she sank, her lungs burning. Then—strong arms locked around her waist, hauling her upward. She gasped as air hit her face, coughing violently as she was dragged onto the muddy bank. A man loomed over her, dripping wet, his chiseled face tight with urgency. "Stay with me," he ordered, his voice rough.


Emelly wheezed, disoriented. Then—oh no—he was leaning down, his lips inches from hers. Is he trying to— Her hand flew out in a blind swing. SLAP. The sound cracked through the air like a gunshot. Lucas recoiled, his cheek stinging. "You pushed me!" Emelly scrambled back, her dress clinging to her like a second skin. "What is wrong with you?!" Lucas’s jaw clenched. "I was saving you." "Saving me?! I was stretching!" She gestured wildly at the bridge. "I had a twelve-hour shift! My back was killing me!" A beat of silence.


Lucas stared at her. "...You weren’t jumping." "No, you lunatic!" His migraine—still present moments ago—vanished. Just… gone. Like a switch flipped.


His brows furrowed. Emelly, meanwhile, was shaking, half from cold, half from rage. "You ruined my only good blouse!" She wrung out the sopping fabric. "Do you have any idea how much dry cleaning costs?!" Lucas straightened, his CEO mask sliding back into place. "I’ll have my assistant reimburse you." "Oh, how generous," she sneered. "Next time, maybe ask before you chuck strangers into lakes!" He should’ve walked away. Should’ve left this shrieking, soggy mess behind. But something—maybe the absurdity, maybe the way her glare sparked like flint—made him snap back. "Next time, don’t dangle yourself off bridges like a deranged acrobat." Emelly’s mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?!" "Lucas York." He flicked a business card at her. It landed in the mud. "Send the bill."


She snatched it up, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, I’ll send something, alright." He turned, but not fast enough to miss her mutter, "Rich, entitled, lake-tossing—" Lucas kept walking. But as he reached his car, where David waited with a towel and wide eyes, he realized two things:


1. His head hadn’t hurt since he’d touched her.


2. He had a feeling this wasn’t the last he’d see of Emelly Clus. And for some reason, that didn’t annoy him nearly as much as it should have….


End of Chapter 1:


Will Emelly actually send Lucas a bill—or something far more creative? Why did his migraine vanish? And what happens when these two end up working in the same company? Stay tuned…