I took another step towards her. Testing the boundaries of our relationship. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Is everything rainbow colored in your room, too?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She poked me gently on the chest and turned her face away.
If you let me in that room the last thing I’d notice is how neat and colorful it is.
“Go to bed, Celeste. And get your mind out of the gutter.”
She scoffed. “Get back to work, Isaac, and stop being such an ass.”
“I have quite the ass. It’s practically the only thing you didn’t see today.”
“Oh, please.”
“It’s cute when you act like you weren’t left speechless by my impeccable physique.” She rolled her eyes at me, and I further closed the space between us, eager for an invitation to close the gap completely.
Celeste licked her lips and steadied her breath. The tension between us wrapped around my chest and squeezed as I waited for her next step. “Or maybe,” her smile turned wicked, I clung to every silence between her whisper, “I was disappointed, and if you have nothing nice to say, best not to say it at all.”
My jaw dropped, and she bit her lower lip, suppressing that bubbling laughter. I never wanted to forget the image of her profile lit by the moonlight. I leaned in and resisted touching her. “You wound me. Lucky for you, I quite enjoy pain.”
“Good night, Isaac. Wake me up, if you need me.” And she slipped away into her room, cracking the door just enough to fit through and leave the contents inside a mystery.
CHAPTER 16
Celeste
My pulse was throbbing everywhere. Every inch of me feeling the delicious push of my blood in my veins, my every nerve ending tingling with this primal feeling again. Isaac hadn’t even touched me, but I wanted him to. Maybe I was delirious from the sleep deprivation. Maybe I was imagining the tilt of his smile and the unsteadiness of his hands. The way he gripped the bannister until his knuckles were white, the other hand busying itself in his hair and on the back of his neck. I couldn’t stop myself—didn’t want to stop myself—from teasing him. I might have been beyond exhaustion, but I was completely in control of the way I pushed my hips and breasts out to him.
I rested my head against the door and waited until I heard Isaac retreat down the stairs and back to work.
I steadily released the breath I’d been holding in and crawled silently onto my bed, slipping under the sheets fully dressed.
“Lucky for you, I quite enjoy pain.”
Lucky for me, I’ve already seen you mostly naked. Up until that moment, I was so heavy with sleep I didn’t even have thoughts. And now, as a punishment for my wonton flirting, I squirmed in my bed, fighting the growing attraction I had for Isaac. Hoping that he both didn’t notice my attraction to him, but felt attraction towards me. I wanted him to want me.
I hoped that he wanted to fuck me.
I groaned. Why couldn’t I feel like this about that guy last weekend?
Maybe if I forced my eyes closed, sleep would just magically find me.
I could faintly hear Isaac’s deep voice dictating below me. I decided to focus on that sound, on making out what he was saying and how much work still waited for me the next day.
≈
I woke to a light rapping on my door and bolted awake. “Yeah?” I shot up and searched for my phone between my sheets.
“Isaac just went to bed about an hour ago. He said to tell you he finished everything. Hungry?” Kieran asked quietly through the door.
“Starving.” I hurried to change my clothes, threw on my glasses, and bounded down the stairs.
Kieran set a plate down in front of me with a cup of coffee. She sat with me, picking at a handful of blueberries. “He looked like hell,” she chuckled and popped a blue orb into her mouth, “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing. We have to finish by tonight so we can publish.”
“Mhm,” she replied, her brow cocking up along with one corner of her lips. “He told me not to wake you, which I thought was awfully sweet.”
I thought so too. But I’d be damned to admit it.
“Maybe we can both wake him. Make his fantasies come true.” Kieran wiggled her eyebrows at me.
“How does Jackson feel about you talking like this?”
“Jackson doesn’t own me, or my thoughts.” Kieran tossed her red hair over her shoulder, her green eyes making me wither under their scrutiny. “Or anything I say.”
“You don’t think he’d be upset?”
“If he were, then he’s not right for me.” She shrugged me off, challenging me to disagree with the catty tilt of her smile.
“But you love him. How can you say that?”
“I know my worth and I don’t change my currency to conform to whatever a man wants in his wallet. If he doesn’t like that I like to window shop, then he can find someone else.”
“I wish I was like you,” I grumbled into my coffee.
“You’re getting there. That’s why you didn’t like that bloke last week. He wasn’t what you wanted, and your body told you so.”
My heart fell out of my ass. She couldn’t possibly know my body had been screaming at me six hours ago to invite Isaac into my bed. “I meant I wish I had your confidence. I bent myself into knots to be what Anthony wanted me to be.”
“And now those knots are undone, no?”
I took a moment to consider it. I had changed a lot. “To some extent.”
“Well, then, you’re on your way.”
I sat at Isaac's laptop, typed in his password, and got to work. Isaac had completed and very obviously edited his first draft. Most of his errors were syntax or spelling. There were several instances where he meandered around his point and I had to rewrite the paragraph to make his point more clear. However, I learned that he worked well under pressure and sleep deprivation. Almost better than in the office. It took me several hours to revise his writing and finish my own. By the time Isaac appeared in the doorway I was hungry, exhausted, and bleary-eyed again.
“It’s ready for publication. I’m tightening up the loose ends now.” I looked up at his long torso, arms stretching lazily above his head. He wore a gray tee-shirt and gray sweatpants, the monochrome stark against the bright blue of his eyes. His dark frames paired with the black hair that’d fallen to his brow.
His bottom lip dropped open, like he was going to say something, then closed back up as if he thought better of it.
“Your writing was really, very good.” I filled his silence while he crossed and took the chair opposite me.
“No need to flatter me.” He smirked, raising his brow and resting his chin in his hand. “I’m well aware of my own genius,” he added with a flourish of his fingers in the air.
I drew a deep breath. It was very possible he was being serious. “I only spent two hours fixing it all.” That should knock him down a peg.
“A record.” He answered. “Alright, let’s hear it then.”
I read the entire report to him, my writing and his working seamlessly to paint an accurate and well-researched picture of Russia’s current status. He stopped me from time to time to add a detail or thank me for changes I had made that enhanced his arguments. I wasn’t used to this direct praise. Not that he didn’t praise me, but it was never so direct and detailed. Usually, he just mentioned my merits to others around us, or quickly let me know he appreciated my input.
His eyes stayed fixated on my lips, as if he needed to watch me to understand the words.
That’s new. I thought, recalling that he usually looked anywhere but at me when I read to him.
I finished and gave him a triumphant smile.
“It’s not perfect, but it’s a preliminary report,” he said, his expression unreadable. His gaze raked over every inch of me he could see. My hips and legs were hidden beneath the table but I felt his gaze between them. He sat perfectly still while I shifted in my seat, releasing some of the heated energy
that was building in me. I felt my skin burn as my heartbeat quickened at the lazy smile that melted across his lips. “You’re incredibly talented, Celeste McAlaster. It’s a privilege to work with you.” His deep voice was a melody in my thrumming veins.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I replied, a little shocked that I was able to harmonize his tone and remain outwardly cool. I opened my email as if my pulse wasn’t at the apex of my thighs and sent our work directly to Michael.
“It’s adorable when you bite your pen like that. Like a little chipmunk.”
I threw my pen at him, which he deflected with ease.
“Did you eat?” I asked casually.
What the hell are you doing? I thought, fully aware that we’d now been together for over twenty-four hours. He probably wanted to go home, not spend the rest of his Saturday with his co-worker.
Isaac shook his head. “We should celebrate. I’m going to run home, shower, and change.”
“Pick me up at seven?” I shut his laptop and thrust it towards him.
“Yes, boss.” He winked at me and called out to Kieran as he left.
“Going so soon?” I heard her pause the television and walk him to the door.
“Thanks for the room and board,” he replied, “and for reading over the drafts.” So that’s why it was so clean.
They crossed the dining room to the entryway. “Anytime, love. My door’s always open for the likes of you.”
“I’m not sure Jackson would approve of that.” Isaac laughed.
Kieran hugged him and he landed a friendly kiss on her cheek. “You say, as you take advantage of my hospitality.” She teased, having returned the peck.
I waited for him to invite her to come with us. He didn’t. Instead, he glanced at me down the corridor and said nothing, leaving a very curious redhead in his wake after she closed the door behind him.
“What’s that about?” she said as she sauntered towards me.
“Isaac is picking me up for dinner. We’re celebrating.”
Kieran was about to tease me, I could tell from the flash of her most devious smile, but she thought better of it and said simply, “you deserve it.”
I checked my watch and decided I had enough time to call my mom while I curled my hair. He’d complimented me the day before, and although I hated to admit it, and forced the thought deep into the back of my mind, I wanted him to compliment me again.
I brought my laptop into my room and face-timed my mother. Having to leave for dinner was a perfect excuse to cut our conversation short. Things had been strained between us since I left for Britain. She saw my running as an act of cowardice. If we were closer, I’d let her in on the secret that being so far away from my roots was forcing me to find myself.
I was discovering suppressed parts of myself and relearning who I was while I danced at clubs, tucked myself in with Kieran, poured myself into this project with Isaac. Let myself lust for him when I was alone and safe. I was seeing myself differently, and the distance was letting me see my past for what it truly was. I’d cut off all ties to every person I knew in the states. And I was thankful for it. Unfortunately, she’d never understand that.
I was questioning why I had no friends to ask to be my maid of honor. The answer was as obvious as it was appalling—Anthony had isolated me, manipulated me into seeing my worth only through him. I was twenty-two when our moms set us up and one would think I’d have been stronger, more independent. Able to see what he was doing. But I hadn’t. In six years, he became my whole life outside of work.
Anthony needed that so I wouldn’t be able to see what he really was.
Kieran spoke nothing but the truth when she told me that abusers were masters of smoke and mirrors, of making themselves the center of your world so that you’d never think to look behind the mask. I could never admit to my mother that I now saw my relationship with Anthony as emotionally abusive. She’d tell me to stop talking to Kieran. She’d say she was filling my head with ideas.
Heaven forbid Celeste McAlaster have any thoughts.
My mom picked up after a few rings. She looked disheveled in her robe, bottle blonde hair a mess framing her youthful face. My mom swore by Botox, and I used to think nothing of it. Now, I felt a little sad that she was so obsessed with preserving her youth. “Celeste, honey! You look great.”
A swell of bittersweet affection built in my chest. I’d give anything to hug her for a moment. We had a rocky relationship, but I was beginning to see that she was just another victim of the patriarchy. And I almost ended up that way, too. I couldn’t hate her or judge her for having the life I had almost fallen into myself. “Hi, Mom. Sorry I didn’t call for a few days. I had a busy week.”
“Your father just left a few minutes ago. Where are you headed? Why are you curling your hair?” Real subtle mom. I winced at her obvious dismissal of my mention of work.
“Out to dinner to celebrate. My co-author and I landed exclusive access to a story and just finished a preliminary report. It’s important. You might have seen it on television.” My mom was at the kitchen table, her coffee mug in her slender hands. I stopped myself from giving any further details. Her prolonged disinterest would just hurt my feelings further. “What’s for lunch?” I asked, changing the subject to safer waters.
“Oh, just coffee and a slice of this forty-calorie toast I found.” She went silent and I could see from the way she pursed her lips that she had something to say. The affection I felt turned to a nervous jitter. Her tone went serious and she sighed deeply, a habit I had gotten from her. “Anthony stopped by. He asked about you.”
My heart lurched in my chest. I took a second to breathe and calm the anxious wave inside of me. “I’m sure he did. And you said ‘fuck you, where’s the twenty-five thousand dollars that Celeste put in for the wedding?’”
“Shush, Celeste. Don’t swear it’s not polite or attractive.”
“It’s also not polite to be sticking your dick in a childhood friend while having a ring on another, huh?”
“It was a mistake. He said he regrets it.”
“That’s great. He can regret it in her bed now. You know, I’ll never get those years back.”
“Honey, I let him in. And I let him speak his piece.”
I cut her off, rage blooming across my cheeks. “Dad wasn’t home. Was he?” She didn’t have to answer that. I knew. I just knew. “Did you… did you invite him?”
She didn’t answer me, and I realized there was a very good chance I was right. “I think you owe him—”
“Owe him what, mom? I should what? I don’t owe him a damn thing. He owes me all the money, time, and energy I wasted on his sorry ass.” I was trembling from the rage. I set down my curling iron, afraid I’d burn myself.
“He’s sorry. He said it was just the one time. He just wants to talk to you.”
“Oh please, mom. Don’t start with this again.” She’d begged me the first two weeks to see him. To talk to him. To forgive him. I gagged at the thought, my stomach hurling itself into my throat.
“Are you really throwing away your whole life and moving across the ocean because he cheated one time? Every man cheats. He probably got cold feet, just like you did. I just don’t see why you had to leave.”
“Dad didn’t cheat.” I was grasping at something to help her see.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Maybe he did. But he’s such a lazy man, I can’t imagine it.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t think he did but I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Stop.” I closed my eyes, but the sting of tears got stronger.
“You can’t just run away on your wedding day and disappear like you did. You should talk to him and see if things can be worked out.”
“I am not talking to him. It cannot be worked out. He’s a scumbag and I deserve better.” I couldn’t look at her. I picked at my nails, instead.
“He’s a good man. It’s been enough time now.”
My jaw hit my vanity.<
br />
“You were with him for six years. It’s time for you to call him and work it out and come home. I already called the hall and they said they’d reschedule with no penalty.”
“You what!” I screamed. A deep, guttural screech that started in the pit of my soul and rippled out of me.
“I made a call and asked, just in case.”
I was going to vomit. A silence pressed on for what felt like ten minutes. I composed myself. “There’s zero percent chance of that ever happening. I asked you to handle it.”
“You love him.”
“I hate him.”
“That’s it? You just stop loving someone in one day without hearing their side.”
“The more I think about it the more I realize I didn’t love him. That wasn’t love. How could you even say any of this? He made a fool of me!”
She sighed and I couldn’t even pretend to look at her. I turned my head to my door looking for an escape. I found Isaac in the frame, frowning. My face must have said it all because he knocked loudly on the door frame and called my name too loudly.
“Who is that?” My mother’s face was pure shock and disgust.
“Are you ready? We’re all waiting.” Isaac was almost shouting. It would have been comical if he hadn’t just heard the most tragic mother-daughter conversation to ever conversate.
“It’s my boss. Everyone’s waiting. I have to go. Love you, bye.”
“Love you.” She answered and I slammed my laptop shut. I stared at my trembling hands unable to process my mother’s words.
Isaac hesitated a minute before coming to my vanity. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I felt small, like a teen whose diary was being read aloud to the whole class. Exposed. Embarrassed.
He leaned against it, half sitting. I buried my face in my hands, palms crushing my eyes into my skull, fighting tears. Isaac spoke just above a whisper. “Do you want to talk about it?” It sent me over the edge. I sobbed in a fit of pure, unadulterated, fury.
See You Monday: An Office Romance (Weekday series Book 1) Page 13
