by London Casey
“Asterisk?”
“You know, this thing that makes it not as good or real as it should be.”
“Have you ever considered that’s just what life is?” Misha asked. “It’s the way things ebb and flow. You can’t control everything, Callie.”
“Now you sound like my mother.”
“I’m just being honest,” she said.
“But look at this. Jackson? Next door? How does that happen? We live in a city of how many people and I end up next door to him?”
“Maybe it’s fate…,” Misha said.
“What kind of fate? Don’t you dare start talking about me and him sleeping together. That will never happen.”
“No,” Misha said. “It’s fate. You’re taking over, Callie. Just like you wanted to do. You’re getting the promotion. And then the apartment. Well, the apartment came first… you know what I mean. You’re infiltrating his life.”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s get a drink and keep talking about that.”
I had way too much wine.
I swayed as I walked.
Misha sat on the couch and barely had a sip.
I had a feeling she was trying to get me drunk so I would pass out and she could just leave.
Smart bitch.
I waved my wine glass around.
“That’s what I’ll do,” I said. “I’ll mess everything up for him. Knock him off his game. Not that he has any. It’ll be… boom… right?”
“That’s right,” Misha said. “Just go with it, okay? Don’t worry about the apartment thing. This is your home.”
“I love this place,” I said. “I freaking love this place. Woo!”
Oh, I hated the way I sounded screeching a woo but it just happened without me trying.
Misha laughed and stood up. “Okay, Callie. You need to get some sleep. Let me tuck you in. No more wine. Drink some water before bed or else you’re going to feel like hell in the morning.”
“I don’t get hangovers,” I said. “I’m too tough for that.”
Misha groaned and stripped my hand of the wine glass. She put it on the table and walked me to my new room.
I had some stuff to unpack still.
Actually, all of it.
Misha had been there to help me unpack and I spent the entire time complaining about Jackson and drinking wine.
I fell to my bed, still in my dress.
“I can’t wear a dress to bed,” I slurred.
“Yes, you can. Tonight you can. I’ll stay too, okay?”
“Misha, no,” I said. “No way. Go home. I ruined your night.”
“You didn’t ruin my night, Callie.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “I just wish I could get into your brain for a minute. To see where all of this comes from.”
“Don’t say that,” I said. “It’s a trap. You don’t want… oh, shit… did I pay the car loan?”
“What car loan?” Misha asked.
I laughed. “Never mind. Of course I did. I did it on the ride home.”
“You don’t have a car,” Misha said.
“I know that. It’s for Mom. She’s a mess… like always. Just don’t tell anyone.”
“You really need some sleep,” Misha said.
I put my head to the pillow and that was it for me.
Lights out.
Sort of…
I was in and out of sleep as I heard Misha move around the bedroom.
When she left, I felt warm and comfortable.
My right hand started to travel down, trying to find the bottom of my dress.
I fell asleep before I could even try to touch myself.
Way to go, Callie.
When my eyes opened, it was an hour later.
Misha put two bottles of water and aspirin on the nightstand. There was a bowl on the floor with a washcloth too.
I threw off the covers and sat up.
I was still very much drunk.
But my little non-orgasm cat nap had me energized.
I was angry.
And there was nobody there to diffuse it for me.
Beyond that, I was… horny.
Okay? I’m horny. I’m a woman. I have needs. Wants. Desires. Pleasures. Fantasies. And lately it’s been…
I growled and charged toward my front door.
Callie, what are you doing?
Sometimes my body acted faster than my mind. And my mind acted faster than my heart. Or sometimes my heart acted faster than my mind.
I wasn’t sure which was which tonight.
I blamed it on the wine.
I left my apartment door wide open and walked to Jackson’s door.
With a fist, I pounded on the door like the building was on fire.
I didn’t stop pounding either.
At least not until Jackson opened the door and I stood face to face with him.
He was shirtless.
Wait… more than shirtless…
He was in…
“Callie?” he asked. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Why are you naked?” I asked.
“That’s my business,” Jackson said.
He was naked.
His right hand cupped over his goods so I didn’t get much of a good look.
What I could see was just endless toned muscle that blended together like a renaissance painting where you’d have to buy a ticket to see and then stand behind a velvet rope to take pictures.
I was officially a tourist of the hottest body I’ve ever seen but can’t touch.
I pointed to his chiseled stomach. “Did you buy those abs?”
“Yeah,” Jackson said. “With a monthly gym membership. I got the biceps free for committing to a one-year contract. Any other questions?”
I snorted. “You’re not even that strong.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No,” I said. “I came over to tell you something.”
“Okay. What?”
My eyes danced up and down his body.
Shoulders. The muscle from the shoulder to the neck. Biceps. Forearms… why do men forget about the forearms? That’s top-notch muscle…
His chest was wide enough for me to sprawl out on, like a blanket on a beach.
Then the washboard abs.
The magical V line that went you know freaking where.
His hand was trying to keep everything contained…
“Eyes up here, Callie,” Jackson said.
I snorted again. Then I started to blush.
I looked up at him. “What? Can’t I eye hump you? Don’t think I don’t know you look at my ass when I’m not looking.”
“Fair trade,” he said. “You have a decent ass. Forgive me.”
“You think I have a nice ass?”
“Holy shit, Callie, what are you doing here? Go home.”
“Yeah, well, fuck you, Jackson. I wanted to tell you I’m living next door. I’m your neighbor. You can’t do a thing about it.”
“Really? You got drunk and waited until almost midnight to tell me that?”
“Yeah. Oh, and if you bring a date home, I’ll mess it up.”
Jackson stepped out into the hallway.
I gasped.
“I don’t bring dates home,” he said. “I have plenty of arrangements when it comes to fucking someone. Anything else you want to talk about?”
“You didn’t close that deal,” I said. “I did. That was all me.”
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself to sleep tonight, so be it. Do you need me to walk you home, Callie?”
“Why? So you can try and take advantage of me?”
Jackson grinned. “No, sweetie. You’re too easy.”
He stepped back into his apartment and slammed the door.
I slapped my hand against the door and heard him engage the deadbolt and the chain lock.
I stumbled back to my apartment.
My mind raced, counting all the muscles I had seen like I was on so
me children’s TV show.
One set of abs, two set of arms, and some perfect pecs… now I can count, oh, look, I’m also wet!
I made it as far as the leather couch, grabbed a blanket and curled up tight.
Muscles meant nothing.
They were good for a one-night fantasy thing.
But Jackson?
He was a nightmare.
Then again… living next door?
Maybe Misha was right.
It was fate.
It was perfect.
Keep your friends close but your frenemies closer, right?
Chapter Eleven
Jackson
What the fuck was she doing at my apartment, drunk, in the middle of the night?
That was the million dollar question I couldn’t shake.
I got up extra early and went to my favorite coffee place just down on the corner.
The city life was the only way to survive.
Everything was within a block.
I grabbed two coffees and as I strutted down the hallway, I smiled ear to ear.
I stopped at Callie’s door and made a fist.
A little payback for the fist pounding on my door last night.
For how drunk she was just a few hours ago, she had to have been sleeping and waking up to this sound was going to make her even sicker than she already was.
The door finally opened and I stepped back in complete surprise.
Callie looked… stunning.
She looked perfect.
Her hair pulled back, makeup on, lips a light shade of red and pouty.
Her resting bitch face was enough to make my resting cock move a little.
In a black dress, she was ready to go.
The woman knew how to throw back some drinks, get drunk, and still wake up like normal, showing no side effects from it.
I had to hand it to her.
That was impressive.
Very impressive.
I stuck my left hand out.
“This is yours,” I said. “Don’t thank me.”
Callie took the coffee. “I wasn’t going to thank you, Jackson. Is this going to be a thing now? You bringing me coffee each morning?”
“No. I only did this because I figured you’d be hungover and sick.”
“I guess I let you down.”
“Not the first time,” I said. “Won’t be the last.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“If I get drunk tonight, will you answer the door naked?”
“What?”
“To make things even,” I said. “You saw me last night.”
“You weren’t naked.”
“Oh, I was naked, Callie,” I said. “I have big hands but cupping my dick like that… no way everything was covered.”
Her cheeks flushed just enough to prove that she not only had been looking, but she remembered.
That was good enough for me.
I nodded and walked away.
Callie slammed her door.
My job is done here… for now.
I walked out of my office and looked into Callie’s. She stood behind her desk, on her phone, leaning forward with one hand on her desk.
God, her tits are…
I shook the thought away.
She was too close now.
Seeing her at the office. Her crashing my pickup at the bar. Now living next to me.
I had to pull my thoughts back.
That meant I needed a distraction.
That meant I needed a woman.
That was something easily solved.
Callie looked at me and reached for her coffee cup on her desk.
I noticed it wasn’t the one I had given to her.
She smiled.
I laughed and walked away.
That meant she went out of her way to go get another coffee from a different place just to show me she didn’t need me to get her morning coffee for her.
That’s how wild this one was.
Anything to do with a man handling a thing and she hated it.
Which meant she probably did have a tote full of sex toys.
It almost made me feel bad for her.
I turned the corner of the hallway and Vince popped out at me.
His arms open, his height about six inches lower than mine, looking like a mobster in a Scorsese movie, nodding and smiling.
“Vince,” I said with a grin.
“Come here, nephew,” he said.
I gave him a quick hug.
His cologne smelled like skunk and piss.
“You fucking did it,” he said. “You and Callie. The dream team around here. I’m going to get you two photographed together and plaster it all over this place. Maybe it’ll make these other slackers wake the fuck up.”
“I don’t need my picture with her,” I said.
Vince waved a finger at me. “Get in the office, dammit. Sit down. Talk. Have a drink with me.”
“It’s morning,” I said.
“It’s nighttime somewhere in the world,” Vince said.
Good point.
Vince’s office was enclosed.
It was a palace too.
Everything was black and gold, oozed of wealth and I have a small dick but I have money. There was a fish tank in the one corner with a shark in it. It wasn’t some damn great white but probably a good three-foot-long shark.
He had a wall of books that I knew he had never once read.
He also had a bunch of couches in the office.
And in the one corner he had a full entertainment center, which looked like a living room more than an office.
He disappeared to the bar while I walked to the window behind his desk.
I slipped my hands into my pockets and studied the city.
There was just something about it.
Always so busy.
Opportunity everywhere.
There was no slowing down.
No taking a break.
Calming.
It was all about the next high of a deal.
“Drink it,” Vince said as he handed me a glass.
He stood next to me.
The whiskey was smooth and really good.
Vince smacked his lips together. “Almost as good as pussy.”
I smiled.
He elbowed me. “You want this office, Jackson?”
I looked at Vince and grinned even bigger. “I’ll do anything to get this office.”
Vince sat down. He folded his hands. “Maybe I’m getting old here. Right? I’ve got more money than I can spend and less time than I did yesterday. Maybe it’s time to move on. I can find an island to buy and get a private jet and call it The Pussy Express. Just fly women in and out. Non-stop. Until my heart gives out.”
“If you take care of yourself, you’ll live longer.”
“Fuck that,” Vince said. “I’m going to die with a tit in my mouth. That’s how I’m going to go.”
“Well, everyone has their day, right?”
“You want this?” Vince asked. “The office? The building? The business?”
“You know I want it,” I said. “I’ve wanted it since my father started it.”
“He was a good man. He had vision like nobody I ever knew. But he was flawed too, Jackson. He hesitated sometimes.”
“He was a planner.”
“Do you think this place would be like this if he was around?”
I swallowed hard.
This was not a subject I cared to talk about.
“Ah, fuck it,” Vince said. “Forget I said anything. We’re here. He’s not. We drink to him. Right?”
Vince lifted his glass.
I lifted mine too.
I didn’t do the whole talk to dead people thing, but if I did, I would let my father know that I was going to make good with his company.
Vince was a greedy prick.
That was why I didn’t get that silver spoon when my father died.
Everything had been left for V
ince to control.
Soon enough, I would have it all.
Soon enough…
Vince finished his drink and pushed the glass across his desk. “This isn’t cutting it. Let’s celebrate.”
“What?” I asked.
“Come on. Let’s go out tonight, Jackson. We deserve it. LoriTech is going to be fucking huge for us. We should cut loose. You. Me. Callie.”
“Callie?”
“She was part of the deal,” Vince said. “And you know, the last thing I need is some woman saying I favor men over them or whatever bullshit that they say.”
“Right,” I said.
My uncle was an asshole. And a pervert.
It was a shock he hadn’t been sued yet by someone.
“The three of us,” he said. “All we have to do is offer. If she says no, then it’s guys night out.”
I leaned forward and grinned. “Well, let’s make it interesting. Why not go down to Langer’s?”
“You devious prick,” Vince said with a laugh.
“What? We can get a drink. Right?”
“And a lap dance.”
“That’s an amenity.”
“Those girls are expensive.”
“You’ve got the cash,” I said.
Vince laughed again. “You think Callie will go for it?”
“I don’t care,” I said. “We tell her we’re going to celebrate. It’s a gentlemen’s club. But women are allowed. Why not?”
Vince shook his head. “You two… you’re either going to make me richer or bring this entire place down.”
“You can fix that by getting rid of her,” I said.
“Not going to happen, nephew,” Vince said. “But I like the plan. I’m in the mood for a little fun myself. I’ll make the call. Get us a nice table. Private dancers. The works.”
“Sounds good,” I said. I put my whiskey glass down on the desk. “I’ll go tell Callie the good news.”
I walked out of the office smiling ear to ear.
No way in hell Callie was going to join Vince and I at a strip club.
Could you imagine her getting a lap dance from a stripper?
Well, I could imagine anything.
But in reality… nah. It wouldn’t happen.
