Break So Soft (Break So Soft Duet Book 2)

by Stasia Black

  I brace myself against the wall and swallow hard. You can do this, Callie. You’re safe. You’re in Jackson’s building. Gentry has no power over you except whatever you allow him.

  I swallow down the bile, hating that he knows by my silence he’s getting to me. “There won’t be any acquisition. Jackson doesn’t have his next-gen AI drone working yet. He hasn’t cracked it.”

  This time the silence comes from Gentry. “I don’t believe you. You’re lying.”

  “I’m not!” I only realize how loud I’ve spoken when a woman passing down the connected hallway looks in my direction. Damn it.

  “I’m not,” I whisper again, still with a vehemence I can’t seem to keep out of my voice when dealing with this fucker. “I’m not shitting you. He can’t get the drone to process data quickly enough. I just watched the prototype crash and burn today.”

  “I still want that prototype. And the program.”

  “But I just told you, it doesn’t—”

  “It doesn’t work yet.” Gentry’s slick voice purrs in my ear. “You still have two weeks to—how shall we say?—encourage Vale to iron out those kinks. I expect a working prototype in my hands by the end of our contracted date. Just wrap him around your little finger and then motivate the hell out of him. After all, we both know you have considerable talents in that area.” His tone is so lascivious and full of innuendo that this time I do gag and throw up in my mouth a little.

  “Don’t forget the consequences if you don’t comply,” Gentry’s voice turns hard. “I bet little Charlie needs his Mama more than ever now. In fact, I heard through the grapevine that he got kicked out of his latest day care program just today for getting into too many fights and biting other children.”

  What? My heartbeat hiccups in my chest. What is he talking about? How the fuck does he know anything about my son?

  “You stay away from my child.” My whole body is rigid and my voice goes low and deadly. “I will castrate you and shove your balls down your fucking throat if you or anyone you employ ever comes within even a thousand yards of my son. That’s ten football fields, just to be clear. Your balls.” I overenunciate each word. “Stuffed. Down. Your. Throat. Are we fucking clear?”

  “Relax, mama bear,” he says, sounding a little bit thrown by my sudden viciousness. Good. He can fuck with other parts of my life, but if he dares come near my son, so help me God, I will make good on my very bloody threat.

  “Many people are in my debt,” he continues, “including someone on the Board of Directors for the chain of nurseries your ex enrolled your son in. It’s in their best interest to keep me informed is all.”

  I scoff. “You mean you’re blackmailing them too.”

  “I’m merely illustrating a point. Your son is having a hard time without his mother. You can be so easily reunited. A happily ever after.

  It’s not a new feeling when it comes to Bryce Gentry, but I have the strong urge to learn how to disembowel somebody. Beyond that, it’s finally sinking in what he’s saying about Charlie. What if the fucker’s not bluffing?

  Number one, when the hell did David put Charlie in daycare? Is he even allowed to do that without notifying me? And two, if my baby’s having this kind of trouble, how the fuck am I not hearing about it? My chest goes tight and my heart starts racing. I’m furious but at the same time feel completely impotent. Because maybe they don’t have to notify me. I don’t have custody. I don’t have any rights when it comes to my own child’s well-being.

  “I expect to have the prototype and software in hand within two weeks—”

  I click end on the call and rush back into the bathroom. After hurrying into a stall and locking it, I bend over with my head between my knees. I don’t know if anyone else is in here with me, but hopefully they’ll ignore the huffing gasps of panicked breathing coming from this stall.

  Get yourself together, Cals. Breathe in. Breathe out. Shit. No, not breathe in again five more times like a hyperventilating chipmunk.

  Out. Breathe out. Slowly. Then in. Slow cleansing breath. Fill up the diaphragm. That’s right. I manage one full breath, then more hiccupping gulps before catching two complete ones.

  I sit down on the closed toilet lid and put my head in my hands. Dammit. How am I gonna hold this shit storm together?

  I feel like I’m on a roller coaster that’s trundling forward. In two weeks, it’s going to hit one of those killer loop-de-loops. I’m going to have to make a choice. There’s no way off this ride, no matter how much I beg. I’m speeding ahead, strapped in. No way off. No fucking way off.

  The thought threatens to bring back my panic attack, but I close my eyes and continue my deep breathing technique. Freaking out about it won’t change anything.

  With one last gulp of air, I step out of the stall and go to the mirror. Smoothing down my hair, I check my makeup in the mirror. A slight sheen of sweat covers my face, so I blot it with a paper towel. There. No hairs out of place. My complexion actually looks even more dewy now and the lip stain I applied this morning has perfectly survived my Venti cup of coffee.

  I shake my head at myself as Gentry’s ugly voice reverberates in my head: just wrap him around your little finger and motivate the hell out of him. My hands lift, almost of their own accord and hover at the top button of my shirt. If I undid it, let just a little more of my ample cleavage show…

  I drop my hands and step back from the mirror, disgusted at myself. Oh my God. Am I actually letting that bastard get in my head? Taking his advice to seduce Jackson to get what I want?

  Tears bite at the edges of my eyes. It’s the position that men have put me in my whole life until I believed it’s all I was good for. That I only had my body to offer. Christ, it’s why I took the position with Gentry in the first place when I felt like I was out of options. Even now, I still can’t bring myself to believe Jackson really gave me this promotion because I actually deserve it. Because he thinks I have skills outside the bedroom that are worth something.

  I bite the inside of my cheek and turn away from the mirror. I straighten my back as I walk to the desk Jackson arranged for me among the hive of other top robotics engineers. As I sit down, I notice he hasn’t gone back to his office. He told me earlier that when the team is on deadline like this, he adopts a temporary office down here so he can be right in the thick of it. Indeed, I can see him at the end of the open room. His secondary office has walls of transparent glass and the door is propped open.

  I pick up my fitted blazer and slip it on, primly securing the two buttons at my waist. Then I turn on my conservative two-inch heels and head for his open door.

  “Callie.” Jackson smiles when I arrive at his door. “How can I help you?”

  “I was wondering if I might visit the machine shop? I’d like to see how the prototypes are made.” I shrug and smile an embarrassed smile. “It might seem silly, but I was hoping it might jog loose some ideas for how to improve reaction times if I can fully understand each and every component.”

  His eyes brighten. “That’s a great idea. Not silly at all. Thinking outside the box is the only way we’re going to tackle this thing. I’ll call down so they know you’re coming.”

  I force myself to smile back. “Thanks. I tend to take things in slowly. My process is to stew on problems.” I look down demurely before looking back up and meeting his eyes. “Do you think it would be possible to change my clearance so I could visit the shop whenever I want?”

  He holds my gaze for just a second longer than is comfortable before nodding slowly. “Of course. I look forward to hearing any and all of your thoughts.” His head dips and his eyebrows go up slightly, as if there’s more significance to the words than just talking about drones and prototypes.

  I can’t keep his gaze. I look at the ground. Shit. What am I doing?

  You’re doing what you have to, that’s what.

  Nothing bad, I hurry to assure myself against that other voice in my head. I’m just covering all contingencies. I’m b
eing smart this time. I’m not Gentry’s marionette. I’m fucking not.

  I’ll do this my way. But the roller coaster, the fucking roller coaster. There’s no getting off it, and in two weeks, I better have figured a fucking miraculous way out of this.

  “Thanks again.” I turn to leave when Jackson’s voice stops me.

  “Callie. I also wanted to ask you about something.”

  I swing back around to look at him. Only to find him running his hand through the back of his hair and looking slightly… Oh my God, is Jackson Vale nervous?

  “You know what, never mind. I shouldn’t be asking this during business hours.”

  “Okay, now I have to know.” I prop a hand on my hip just inside the doorway.

  “It’s just that, well…” Red creeps up his neck and he readjusts himself in his chair. “I was wondering if you wanted to maybe, that is, Christ, I really shouldn’t be asking this during business hours.”

  “Just spit it out.” It’s probably mean, but I can’t help laughing a little bit at how uncomfortable he looks.

  He narrows his gaze at me but does finally manage to get his request out. “In a completely non-professional manner, not as your boss but only as Jackson, I was wondering if you’d be interested in spending the weekend with me at my cabin about an hour away at a little vineyard.”

  Wow. Um. What do I say to that? A weekend with Jackson. Alone. Secluded.

  “I know they say silence is golden, but you’re leaving me hanging here,” he says when I’ve been quiet for what is probably an awkwardly long period.

  “Yes.”

  Shit. Did I just say that?

  Dimple appearance alert. “Great. You spend Friday evenings with your son, right?”

  I nod, surprised and moved that he remembers.

  “So I’ll pick you up at nine on Saturday morning.” It’s a statement. He’s so self-assured now after his momentary attack of anxiety. So put together. Which makes it all the more incredible that he debases himself to submit to me.

  “Great,” I mimic. A smile covers my inner grimace. I shouldn’t be continuing whatever this… thing is going on between us. Not right now anyway. It’s too messy, too complicated with Gentry breathing down my neck.

  At the same time, even as I stare at Jackson, all I want to do is walk over there, grab him by his tie, and force him to the floor. A cool sense of calm washes down my body at just the mental image of it. Each tense muscle in my shoulders relaxes at the thought of him on his knees, head bowed before me.

  I don’t even know quite how to describe the sensation. It’s like a kind of euphoria, that instant relaxation and stress relief that sweeps down my body, starting from behind my forehead, down to my shoulders, chest, belly, resonating with extra vibration in my groin, and then continuing down my legs all the way to my toes. And that’s just at the thought of dominating him. What would an entire weekend bring?

  I need it.

  I need it now more than ever.

  “Callie,” Jackson’s voice is low and when I look back at his eyes, I can see them dark with obvious lust. He’s picked up on my internal thoughts. Guess I haven’t bothered masking my emotions as well as I want.

  “I have to be getting back to it. Work, that is.” I lift an eyebrow and shoot him a sly smile before I turn and hurry out the door. The smile even feels genuine. Which only leaves me feeling more confused than ever.

  Chapter Fifteen

  CALLIE

  Saturday dawns sunny and only slightly cool. The temperate climate in the Bay Area means that even though it’s October, it’s in the sixties and will warm up to probably seventy-five by mid-afternoon.

  At seven-thirty in the morning, I find myself doing something I would never have believed of myself—I’m waiting at the window for a guy. Of course I don’t admit that out loud. I just have the curtain conveniently open while I drink my morning coffee with Shannon. I can’t believe that she too is willingly up so early on a Saturday—and her for no other reason than she wants to get an early start on the day.

  She’s given up giving up caffeine. She’s back to drinking the characteristic black sludge she’s been addicted to since college. Sunil keeps buying her fancy boxes of caffeine-free tea and even a bag of this organic pretend coffee made out of chicory, but other than that week and a half where she made a valiant attempt, none of it’s been able to sway my coffee-loving sister. Thank God. It’s unnatural not to have a few vices.

  “So,” Shannon says, sipping her coffee while flipping through the news on her phone—she’s the only person I know who reads BBC News articles in the morning instead of skimming Facebook like the rest of us mere mortals. “A weekend getaway. This is getting serious.”

  I shrug her off and pour some more sugar and creamer into my coffee. After already watering it down heavily. It’s either this or brew a separate pot from the mud she drinks.

  “Nah, we just wanted to get away from the noise of the city. He has a place down in wine country and after going all that way, it seemed silly to turn around and come back the same day. Might as well stay the night.” Yeah. All of that came pouring out of my mouth way too fast.

  One of her eyebrows arches.

  I ignore her and go back to looking out the window as I drink my coffee. It’s still strong, but sweet enough that it tastes pretty damn yummy.

  “How are things between you and Sunil?” I ask.

  “Because that’s not an obvious deflection. You know I never thought it was a good idea to date your boss. That said,” she rubs her thumb along the rim of her coffee mug while eyeing me, “whatever relationship you’ve been having hasn’t seemed to impact your work. Whether you guys can manage to keep that up or not, well…”

  Yeah. I never told Shannon that Jackson and I stopped seeing each other. I didn’t want to listen to any of her I told you so’s. Nor do I especially want to hear any more of her thoughts on the subject now.

  I smile sweetly. “You’ve been spending a lot of time at Sunil’s place. I saw how good you were at CrossFit the other day. As much as you complain, I think you even go on days when I’m not dragging your ass there.” I do the eyebrow raise thing back at her. “Seems like someone’s concerned with looking good for her man. Things must be getting hot and heavy between you two.”

  A slight blush stains her cheeks. Shannon and I have never been the kind of sisters who do this—the whole gossiping about boys thing. We’re just learning how and it still hits my funny bone every time I see her like this.

  “He’s well…” she looks down at her coffee, her blush growing deeper. Slam dunk—distraction managed. “There’s so much to learn about the Zen lifestyle.”

  I can’t help laughing. “So that’s what you do? Spend all your time talking about meditating?” I waggle my eyebrows up and down. Then a thought strikes me and I set my coffee cup down on the table so hard, it almost sloshes over the sides. “Oh my God, is he into that, what do they call it? Tarantula stuff? Like with sex?”

  “It’s tantric,” Shannon corrects and immediately raises her coffee cup to cover the bottom half of her face, clearly embarrassed as hell. “And that’s none of your business.”

  “Oh my God,” I slap the table. “You knew the right word for it! You’re totally having tarantula sex with your boyfriend!” I grab my abandoned phone off the table. “I’m looking up what tantric sex is now. Is he like downward-doggie-styling you?”

  “That’s not what it is at all!” She jumps up, completely red-faced and tries to grab my phone as I start typing furiously with my thumbs. I have to put my body in the way so she can’t get at the phone.

  “Give it to me!”

  “Never!” I laugh. “I’ve got to see what kind of freaky-deeky stuff my sister’s getting in to.”

  “What are you, twelve? Give me the phone.” She’s all but crawling over my back at this point to get to the phone, but I curl up so I can still see my screen. I manage to type in ‘tantric’ and hit search.

  “Oh lo
ok, a Cosmo article on eight tantric positions to heat things up in the bedroom,” I read off, laughing so hard my stomach hurts. I manage to click the link in spite of the fact that Shannon’s hands are prying at my arms to get at the phone.

  “Oh my God, look at the Lover’s Lap Dance. Or the,” I gasp for breath through my giggles, “Penetrative Pretzel. Wow, you’ve gotta be really limber to manage that one. Maybe you should squeeze in that yoga class after all.”

  Shannon chokes. “You little—” Then her body straightens up. Still slightly out of breath, she points to the window. “Speaking of lovers.”

  I uncurl and my head pops up to look out the window like a gopher. A fancy car idles by the curb in front of the apartment building. It’s not Jackson’s usual town car and driver but a shiny silver Volvo instead.

  A text pings on the phone I’ve got clutched so tight in my hand.

  JACKSON: I’m outside.

  “Dang,” Shannon’s voice is more sober. “You’re really falling for this guy. You should see your face.”

  I look away from the window and go for my bag, but not before sticking my tongue out at Shannon.

  “Brat,” she says.

  “Sex fiend.”

  “I know where you sleep,” she shoots back.

  That makes me laugh. I stop on my way toward the door and turn back and give Shannon a huge hug. “Love you, sis.”

  “Oh get out of here,” she grumbles.

  “Go drink some of that sludge you call coffee,” I say as I pull back, just far enough so I can plant a loud smooching kiss on her cheek.

  “Ugh.” She pulls away from me, rubbing at her cheek.

  I’m laughing all the way out the door. This sister thing is actually pretty damn cool now that we’re finally trying. Who knew? I heft my weekend duffel bag higher on my shoulder as I jog down the steps of my apartment building toward… my stride breaks momentarily and both my eyebrows raise in question when I get closer.

  Sam, Jackson’s driver, is nowhere in sight. “I thought you said you didn’t drive.”