by Hannah Ford
He took a step back, seemingly shocked by my tone as he came back to reality after getting what he wanted from me.
“What is wrong with you?” I said, and I could feel the tears starting in my eyes. “Why are you doing this to me? Do you get off on it, is that it? Playing with me, making me think that you might…” I trailed off, because it was stupid to say it out loud, to let him know that I’d thought we could be something more than we were. He’d humiliated me enough.
But he knew what I was about to say, and he reached for me again, but I put my hand up. “Do not come near me.” I was furiously buttoning my shirt, and I was so flustered that I realized I was buttoning it wrong, and I had to start all over again.
“Adriana.” Callum shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I shouldn’t have left you this morning. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have been so hard on you at the hospital. It’s just that I don’t … ” He trailed off, frustrated. “Look, I know things got fucked up, that I’m fucked up, but I need to explain.” He twisted the tie he was still holding between his hands so hard I was afraid he was going to tear it. “It drove me insane seeing you with him. I couldn’t control myself.”
He pushed his body against mine again, kissing me and making me dizzy.
“Stop!” I said, mustering up all my strength and pushing him away, my hands ineffectual against his strong chest. “Just, please stop, Callum.” I shook my head. “I’ve seen this movie before. It’s been on constant repeat ever since I met you.” I bit my lip, tasting the bitter tang of coppery blood on my tongue. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t. Please, please, I’m begging you. Just please leave me alone.”
I pushed past him and back to the restaurant, knowing that if he reached for me again, I would give in.
But this time, he let me go.
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.
I walked into the ladies’ room, the tears pricking my eyes. I grabbed a soft white paper towel from the stack on the counter and dabbed it under my eyes, praying my eyeliner wasn’t going to smudge from the tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks. The top button of my blouse had popped off, and I prayed Kiersten wouldn’t notice. I couldn’t believe I had to go back into the restaurant now and sit down my table, just feet away from where Callum would be.
And this lunch wasn’t going to be the end of it. There was going to be more interactions with him at work. It was unavoidable.
I slammed my hand against the counter in frustration.
Stop, I told myself. Just stop. You’re acting crazy. He’s just a man. You hardly even know him. It’s just hormones, it’s just attraction.
My mind tried to control my thoughts with the facts. But my heart knew better. It laughed and scoffed in the face of facts. Because it was more than just attraction and hormones. Yes, he could make my body respond in a way no man ever had, in a way I’d never even dreamed was possible, but I knew there was no way that could happen unless there was something there, something deeper.
I felt like we’d only scratched the surface, felt like if he’d just let me in, we could really have something, something magical and perfect, the kind of thing people meant when they talked about soul mates or great loves.
What that was based on, I knew, was flimsy at best -- little slivers of moments, a touch here, a kiss there, a vulnerable look that gave me a glimpse of what was hiding under that tough guy exterior.
But that wasn’t enough.
I wanted real, true, all encompassing love, the kind of love that would knock me off my feet. The confusing thing was, I did feel like he was knocking me off my feet.
But how could I have the love I wanted if he wasn’t able to give me what I needed emotionally? Potential or hope wasn’t enough.
I blotted at my eyes one more time, then took a deep breath before tossing the paper towel into the trashcan and walking out of the bathroom.
Don’t look at Callum’s table, I told myself as I made my way back to where Kiersten and Dean were waiting.
But I couldn’t help it. It was like being told not to look at an accident as you drove by, or not to think of the color yellow. You had to do it.
Callum was back in his chair, shaking his head at something the man across from him was saying. The man looked terrified as he scribbled something down in a notebook.
I hated that it was so easy for Callum, hated that he could immediately compartmentalize the interaction we just had and turn his mind back to work. Maybe it doesn’t mean as much to him as it does to you.
I was a complete wreck. I had no idea how I was going to focus on the meeting we were having with Dean Bellingham.
Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about it.
I was halfway to the table when Kiersten appeared in front of me, her high heels clicking against the shiny wood floor.
“Adriana,” she said, pulling at the bottom of her skirt. “I got this. You can go back to the office now.”
I glanced over her shoulder to where Dean was sitting, leaning back in his seat, sipping on the drink he’d ordered. Had he told Kiersten to get rid of me? Was he displeased with something I’d done? I’d only been at the table for a few minutes.
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “I mean, I’m sorry if it seemed like I wasn’t focused. But I’m fine now.” Lie, lie, lie.
“What?” Kiersten said. “No, it’s fine. I just feel like maybe Dean requires a little more one-on-one attention. You know these wealthy executive types.” She rolled her eyes. “They always need to feel important.”
“Oh.” I licked my bottom lip and swallowed. “Okay.”
“Thanks, Adriana,” she said. Her voice had lost some of its edge, and for the first time I noticed the brightness in her voice, the way her eyes had softened, how her skin seemed flushed. Was she…Was Kiersten … did she have a crush on Dean?
I just feel like maybe Dean requires a little more one-on-one attention. Was Kiersten going to sleep with Dean in order to lure him away from Royal House?
Or was it just that she was excited at the possibility of a deal?
It doesn’t matter, Adriana, I told myself. It’s none of your business, and you are in no position to be judgmental about who anyone else is sleeping with.
“When you get back to the office, check the database for the new book we’re doing by JoJo Kye. Read the sample pages and then take a stab at writing the catalog copy.”
“Okay,” I said, a tiny bit of hope blooming in my chest. It was the first time that she’d tasked me with anything even remotely important.
“I’ll see you back at the office.”
I headed out of the restaurant and onto the New York street, the fresh air hitting my skin and helping to calm my racing heart. I took in a deep breath, trying to steady myself before I began making my way to the corner to hail a cab.
I was a few steps down the sidewalk when someone called my name.
I turned around.
Dean Bellingham grinned at me. “Hey,” he said. “Kiersten said you needed to get back to the office?”
“Oh,” I said, not sure exactly what Kiersten had told him, and deciding I shouldn’t elaborate too much. “Yes.”
He nodded. “No rest for the assistant, huh?”
“Nope,” I said, trying my best to match his light tone. “You gotta work hard to get to the top.”
“Right.” He gave me a cool smile, and I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I thought I saw his gaze lingering on my cleavage, where the top of my blouse was open because of my missing button. But then he was reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet.
“Anyway,” he said. “I wanted to know if maybe we could have a meeting sometime? I’ve found that the best publicity suggestions usually come from people who haven’t been in the business for years. They’re able to think outside of the box.” He slid a black business cared out of his wallet. “Here,” he said. “Call and have my secretar
y set something up.”
“Oh,” I said, a little thrown. “Okay, sure.”
He gave me a wink, his hand brushing against mine for a second longer than necessary as I took his card.
“Nice to meet you, Adriana.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
He turned and disappeared back into the restaurant.
What the hell was that? I thought as I continued down the sidewalk. Had Dean Bellingham been hitting on me?
No, I told myself. No way. He was just trying to do what he’d said – set up a meeting with me. But then when why hadn’t he just asked Kiersten? Was he trying to hide it from her?
Whatever, I told myself as I hailed a cab and climbed inside, giving the driver the address for Archway. It’s probably nothing.
I would tell Kiersten about it as soon as I got back to the office, I decided. That would make me feel better.
But Kiersten never came back to the office.
I waited for her until after six, until I’d read everything I could on JoJo Kye and her book (a guide to farm fresh cooking that was completely different from Aubrey Zane’s book and made me realize just how diverse the Archway catalog really was and how much effort it was going to take to get up to speed) and written at least seven different versions of the catalog copy before narrowing it down to two, then combining the best parts of both and emailing it to Kiersten at 6:15, along with a quick note letting her know that I was leaving, and that I would see her the next day.
I grabbed my bag, my eyes falling on the roses Callum had sent me. I took one out of the box and brought it to my nose, inhaling its scent.
And then, before I could think twice about it, I picked up the box and dumped it into the garbage.
* * *
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Nessa was staying at Isaac’s for the second night in a row, and the apartment felt still. Even the sidewalk outside, which was normally filled with sounds of people walking and talking, their voices filtering through my windows and keeping me awake, were abnormally quiet.
I shivered, the thin blanket over me doing nothing to stop the chill that seemed to reach all the way to my bones. Everything was just so damn quiet, and with nothing to distract my mind, all I could think about was him.
I grabbed for my phone and shoved my ear buds in, scrolling through my playlist until I found a soft song by Sam Hunt. I put it on repeat, hoping his smooth voice would lull me to sleep. The music soothed my mind, but I was still cold.
I sighed and pulled out my headphones, then got out of bed and headed to the linen closet, which was on the other side of the apartment. I knew Nessa wouldn’t mind if I borrowed one of her blankets, but I still felt weird about taking one, and I made a mental note to text her tomorrow morning and let her know.
I was back in bed and about to put my headphones back in when I heard the knob on the front door rattling.
“Nessa?” I called. “I borrowed one of your blankets, I hope that’s okay.”
I was hoping she would call out to me, that she would invite me out to the kitchen to talk while she made me grilled cheese with tomato on rye, her specialty. If she did, I would confess everything to her. Everything that had happened. I didn’t care about the stupid contract I signed, the one saying I would never speak of Callum again or whatever other crap he thought could get me to agree to. What was he going to do, sue me? Ha! Good luck getting anything. I barely had two hundred dollars in my checking account.
I would swear Nessa to secrecy, and if she told someone who told someone well, then, that was the price Callum would have to pay. There were always consequences to your actions, and maybe rumors of his sexual proclivities were going to be his consequences for how he’d treated me.
“Nessa?” I called again.
But there was no answer.
I could hear heavy footsteps in the hallway, moving toward my bedroom, masculine footsteps, and I sat up, the first whisper of fear and nervousness creeping up my spine.
A shadow fell over the doorway, and then there he was.
Callum.
Standing in my bedroom.
I was so shocked and surprised that I didn’t even have time to be scared.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted, and even though I hated him, even though I’d told him to leave me alone, I felt my body flood with warmth and desire, and my heart began beating like a kick drum in my chest.
“You didn’t answer the door.”
I must not have heard him knocking since I had my ear buds on. “So you just broke in?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. That door is no security at all, Adriana.” He shook his head. “I’ll have it replaced tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Your door. I’ll have someone replace it tomorrow. You can’t live in a place with a door like that.” He moved further into the room, and I noticed he was wearing his own ear buds – they were dangling around his neck. He pulled them off and set them down on my nightstand, along with his phone. He was wearing a pair of black track pants and a long-sleeved dark red t-shirt. His hair was damp, like he’d just taken a shower, but stubble darkened his cheeks, and his hair was messy.
“Get out,” I said, clutching the blankets to me. “I’ll call the police.”
But he didn’t listen.
He didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard what I said. Instead, he kicked off the shiny black sneakers he was wearing, then picked up the blanket and slid into bed with me. His body was warm, and he slid so close I could feel the heat radiating off of him through his thin t-shirt.
“Do you know,” he said, and his hands found my waist, pulled me toward him until our pelvises were pressed together, “how far I’ve run today, Lemon?”
“What?” I asked, confused. “How far you’ve run?”
“Twenty-six miles,” he said. “Practically a full marathon. Do you know how hard it is to run twenty-six miles in Manhattan, Lemon?”
I shook my head. I had no idea what he was talking about, but his voice was soft and deep, and it was mesmerizing me. Stop, I told myself. Trouble, trouble, trouble. I felt like the bed was rippling underneath me, like the floor was the ocean and my bed was a boat, and he was the wave, shaking me to my core and threatening, always threatening, to pull me under.
It’s okay, the devil on my shoulder whispered, its horns twinkling in delight. Just let him do what he wants. Just one more time, just one more night, just once more, you can forget him tomorrow…
Because I knew that he would surely leave me again. I was already broken-hearted. What would it matter if I let him do what he wanted to me tonight? Didn’t I deserve to have one more night of pleasure?
Your heart will hurt worse, the angel on my other shoulder whispered. It will be worse if you have sex with him again. And where will you draw the line? You’re like a junkie pretending the next hit will be the last. But every hit will make the withdrawal that much worse, every hit will pull you deeper into the addiction.
I slid back a tiny bit on the bed, trying to put some distance between us. His body was on fire, so hot it was giving me icy hot shivers.
“It’s impossible to run twenty-six miles on the island of Manhattan,” Callum said. His grip around my hips tightened as he held me firmly, not allowing me to move even the slightest bit away from him. In fact, it seemed as if me trying to pull away just made him want me closer. “I had to run all the way to Queens.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips over the hollow of my throat, and I burst into flames. “I left work early, Adriana. So I could go running. Because all I could think about was you. How you told me to leave you alone, how impossible that would be for me.” His lips moved to my collarbone, his fingers gripping the top of the t-shirt I was wearing and curving underneath it, moving the fabric down the tiniest little bit and exposing my skin. “Do you know when the last time I left work early was, Adriana?”
“No,” I breathed.
“It was four years ago. I w
alked out of a bullshit meeting at Morgan Stanley to start my own business.” He pulled back and his eyes locked on mine, so close and so bright blue that I wondered how anyone, any woman, could ever be expected to resist him.
“Ask me if it worked,” he whispered. “Ask me if running twenty-six miles got you out of my head.” His mouth was so close to mine that as he spoke, his lips softly touched mine. It was insanely erotic, and heat pulsed rhythmically between my legs, almost as if it was pulsing in tandem with my heartbeat.
“Did it work?” I asked.
“No, Adriana,” he said. “It didn’t work. You are burned in my brain and it is driving me insane. I cannot leave you alone. I will lose my mind.”
He took a strand of my hair and tucked it behind my ear, and then kissed me, sucking my lower lip gently.
“Callum,” I groaned. I took my hands and pressed them against his chest, trying to push him away from me, but his body was rock hard, sturdy, and my arms felt like spaghetti again his strength. “I can’t,” I said. “You can’t be here.”
“Shh,” he whispered into my ear, and my body broke out in prickly goose bumps. “We don’t have to do anything, baby. I just need to feel you against me.”
He sat up and pulled his shirt off, his biceps flexing, the light shining in from the window and illuminating his flawless tan skin. I shivered and pulled the blanket closer around me, wondering how he could make me feel so safe and yet so vulnerable at the same time.
“No,” Callum said, pulling the blanket away from me. “Now you.”
He laid back down next to me and slid down my body until he reached the bottom of my t-shirt, the same one I’d worn out of his apartment this morning. “I like you in my shirt, Lemon,” he said. “But not as much as I like you naked.”
He pushed the fabric up slowly, tugging it up over my hips, his fingers gripping the fabric as his thumbs grazed my skin. “Arms up,” he said gruffly, and I held them over my head obediently.
When I was left in just my bra and panties, he pressed himself against me and wrapped the blankets around us. I could feel him hard through his pants, and I knew it had all been a lie, him telling me that we didn’t have to do anything. He knew once I was half naked I wouldn’t be able to resist him.
