He pulled out two plates and set the bag on top. The scent of freshly baked croissants wafted into the air, but instead of making her mouth water, they turned her stomach.
Imogen folded her arms across her chest, suddenly wishing she’d gotten dressed instead of putting on a towel. “I didn’t ask.”
He raised a brow. “I know, but since you look like you want to murder me with a pickaxe in my sleep, I’m telling you.”
“You don’t have to be sleeping,” she muttered.
“Sit.” He pulled a chair out for her and gestured to the breakfast. “You can grill me over pastries.”
“I don’t want to grill you, Caleb.” She shook her head. “That would imply there’s been some kind of agreement between us...and there hasn’t. I don’t have any right to demand an explanation.”
“This is a woman trap, isn’t it? Like where you say you’re ‘fine’ but you’re testing me to see if I’ll give you the ‘right’ response.” He reached for his coffee. “It’s not my first rodeo, Imogen.”
“Yes, I’m well aware you’ve had many rodeos to hone your skills.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them, but Caleb simply nodded. Well, now she’d done it. If he wasn’t certain she was a raging ball of jealously before then he would be now.
It was stupid, really. She didn’t have any claim on him and she certainly didn’t want to end up like poor Grace, who was clearly still smitten with him and was probably nursing a rather nasty bruise on her ego right now.
“If you want to ask something, then do it,” he said. He sipped his coffee, trying to act as cool as a cucumber, but the muscles around his jaw were tight, his lips pulled into a flat line. “I would hope after what we’ve done that you could at least talk to me about what’s upsetting you.”
“Did you sleep with her?” It was shameful that she wanted so badly to know. She shouldn’t care...but she did.
“No.” He sighed. “I kissed her once after we had a few too many drinks, but that was it. A kiss, nothing more.”
“Was that after me?” All the old feelings came rushing back—the confusing mélange of hope that she was wrong, with fear that she was right. The tight fist of anger and despair closing around her heart and squeezing hard.
“After that night at the club, you mean?” His blue eyes grew darker, stormier. The muscles in his neck corded, like he was holding his whole body tight as a wire. “No. It was before that. Months ago.”
“So why was she here looking like she expected you to be alone?” Her voice wobbled and she wanted to pound her fist into something. Was she so pathetic that she couldn’t even keep herself together long enough to get through this conversation?
“I don’t know.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Do you expect me to account for other people’s actions?”
“No, but you should account for your own. If you weren’t interested in her...”
“What? I should’ve shut her down harder, is that what you’re saying? Because that would make me an asshole.” He slammed his coffee cup down on the table and some of the brown liquid splashed out of the drinking spout and pooled on the plastic lid. “But then if I let her down gently I’m leading her on? I can’t fucking win.”
“I’m not saying that—”
“Yes, you are. You’re acting like it’s my fault that she turned up here when I told her that I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with her.” His nostrils flared. “I kissed her and it was a mistake. I apologised and tried to let her down as best I could. But I knew she was coming into the office the following week to present to Dad and I didn’t want to shoot her down so hard that she lost her nerve. I tried to do the right thing.”
It sounded so plausible. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to trust that he was the kind of guy who didn’t sleep around or lead people on. But what about the woman from the office, the one they were discussing last night?
“What about Neila?”
His expression turned to stone. “What about her?”
“I heard...” She swallowed and clutched the towel tight to her chest. “One of the girls said...”
Crud. That wasn’t right either, and with each false start he grew increasingly distant. Caleb was shutting down. But she had to know. If this went any further—like she’d started to hope it might—then she needed reassurance he wasn’t a cheater.
“You were talking about me?” he said. “Gossiping.”
How could she possibly deny it? She wrung her hands. “I usually try to stay out of that stuff. You know that.”
“And yet you’re still asking me to explain myself.” She’d expected him to look angry but instead he was cold. Expressionless. “Fine. Ask if you need to know so badly.”
This was her fork in the road—if she asked the question, it would be as good as admitting she didn’t trust him. But if she didn’t, she’d always wonder. And then their relationship would be certain to fail because she’d let the uncertainty eat away at her like she’d done last time. The scars were still too raw and too fresh.
And the fact was, she didn’t trust him because she didn’t trust anyone. Ever.
“Did you cheat on her?”
“I say no, she says yes.” His eyes bore right into hers—unwavering and unyielding. It was like being physically flattened, like being a butterfly stretched out and pinned down. Trapped behind glass. “We were dating. I found out that she told people in the office that she wanted to be with Jason but when he wasn’t interested, she came after me. Neila was a social climber, and she wanted to find a way into my family.”
Imogen cringed. “Oh.”
“I sent her a message saying it was over and that I didn’t want to hear any excuses. I went out and got hammered and did some stupid things because I was hurt.” He paused. “She claims she didn’t get the message and that she never said any such things about me.”
“And you don’t believe her?”
“I find it convenient that a serial texter who always carried a spare battery for her phone didn’t get the message that one time.” He shrugged. “But I overheard her. And when I asked Jason he admitted that she’d come onto him a few times before we started dating. I won’t be someone’s consolation prize. But she decided that I cheated on her and so that’s what she told everyone.”
“It wasn’t that you got bored with her?”
Caleb laughed but the sound had none of the warm baritone she’d grown to crave. This time it was flat and metallic, like an imitation of the real thing. “Would it be better for you to think of me as some asshole who chews women up and spits them out? Would that make it easier for you to walk away? Because I’m not going to make it easy, Imogen. I’m not going to tell you what you want to hear so that you can keep living in the past.”
“I’m not living in the past.”
“No? So why were you chasing your sister’s fiancé all over town, thinking that he cheated on her?”
“I saw him with a woman,” she protested.
“Doing what? Having a drink?” He threw his hands in the air. “You’ve sent yourself on a wild-goose chase for nothing. He’s madly in love with your sister and I would be surprised if he’d ever cheated on her.”
“But what about the blonde woman, the one from the bar last night?”
The second Caleb’s expression changed, she knew she’d stepped over a line. “You were there?”
“The assistants wanted to grab a drink after work. I didn’t know you’d be there.”
“You didn’t come over and say hello.” He frowned. “But you were watching long enough to see who I was with. Were you spying on me or Daniel?”
She gulped. “It’s a public space. I wasn’t spying.”
“No? Because that would be twice now.”
This conversation was going downhill, fast. And Imogen had a feeling it was going to
hurt when she landed.
Would he be so angry if he had nothing to hide? How can you trust him? How can you trust anyone ever again?
“I wasn’t spying,” she repeated through gritted teeth.
“But you don’t trust me. You were here all night and you never once mentioned that you saw me—were you waiting to see if I’d tell the truth that there was a woman with us?”
“No... I don’t know.” She pressed her fingers to her temple. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
“For the record, the woman’s name is Emily. She’s a jeweller and a friend of Daniel’s. He commissioned her to design a wedding band for your sister. They’ve been meeting in secret for months because he wanted to be involved in the whole process, but he didn’t want Penny to find out.”
“Oh.”
That wasn’t what she’d expected. And the more she thought about it, the more she was sure it’d been the same women from that night she’d first grown suspicious of Daniel.
“So, you’ve concocted the whole plan to catch him in the act and all because he wanted to do something nice for your sister. You snuck into a ball for chrissake.” He held up a hand. “Now, that’s not to deny that I’m pretty fucking impressed you did that—because I am—but what the hell was it all built on? Just because your husband cheated on you does not mean that every man is out to get some on the side.”
“I never said that.” Tears pricked the backs of her eyes—shame and embarrassment and humiliation trickling through her like poison. She’d let Caleb get too close, get under her skin. He was starting to see the ugly truth beneath her carefully polished veneer and she didn’t like it one bit.
“You sure as hell acted like it.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Imogen, I get it. You were hurt in a brutal way. But Daniel isn’t your ex. I’m not your ex. You need to move on.”
“I have.”
“No, you haven’t. You’re clinging to this bad thing that happened like it’s your life raft, but it’s really a weight around your feet and it’s going to drag you to the bottom of the ocean.” He sighed. “How long has it been? You need to live your life and let your sister live hers.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” She turned away from him—the bright light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows almost blinding her. He was right, but how could she move on when she still woke up in a sweat after having nightmares of the shame? Of the humiliation?
How could she trust someone like him, who had a reputation like he did, to be the one to help her get past it all? She needed someone safe, someone boring who didn’t push her or challenge her. Not this man who turned her world upside down and threatened everything she thought she knew about herself.
She liked Caleb, a lot. But she wasn’t ready to be shoved to one side like Grace or Neila. She wasn’t ready to be on the receiving end of a “you’re dumped” message or that cold, polite “what do you need?” when she passed him in the hallway at work.
“I don’t want to tell you what to do.” His hand landed soft and reassuring on her shoulder. “But I meant what I said last night. I like you.”
“For now?” She turned, blinking back the tears because she couldn’t shame herself further by crying. “But what happens when you get bored, when you move on to someone else?”
“What if I don’t?”
God, she wanted to believe it so freaking bad.
“You have done with all these women.” What on earth made her any different? “I can’t take that risk. I need someone...safe.”
“It’s a shame you think so little of me, because I really do think you’re pretty damn amazing.” He took a step back, his head bobbing. “But right now, I think you should go.”
She nodded and walked into his bedroom, this time unable to blink the tears away. They fell hot and fast onto her cheeks as she stumbled around his room looking for her clothes, trying to ignore the rumpled bed and overturned lamp that stood as evidence of what had fizzled out as quickly as it started.
By the time she walked back into his living room, Caleb was standing on the balcony, coffee in hand. The rest of their untouched breakfast sat cold on his kitchen table. She left without a word.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IF CALEB HAD a raincloud above his head the previous week, now it was a typhoon. His anger had morphed into something larger than himself and he carried it like a noose around his neck. The worst thing of all, however, was that he could only blame himself.
After trying every trick in the book to get a positive word or a pat on the head from his father—to get some semblance of love or legitimacy—and failing, he’d thrown all his energy into covering up how he felt by putting on a mask every day until he’d lost himself in the process.
And the mask had become his reality.
The weekend’s events had given him a new perspective, however. Having Imogen confirm his fears that he’d always be burdened by his persona was something he needed to hear. And, in a strange turn of events, Daniel’s wisdom over beers had been the glass-shattering moment he’d been waiting for.
You can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family.
It was simple, really. But he’d spent so long thinking his family and his work were one and the same when they could easily be separated. It was clear he’d never get what he wanted working in the family business—Jase would always be number one, and Caleb would always resent it. Eventually it would ruin their relationship, too. And he didn’t want that.
But he did have the power to change his circumstances.
While Gerald Allbrook might not think much of his son’s skills, Caleb had a degree and years of experience. And, despite failing hard with the one relationship he’d truly wanted in life, he was talented at building relationships with other people. Which meant the calls he’d made this past week were already starting to pay off.
Caleb waited until the office was mostly cleared out, and then he made the long walk down to the big corner office. Mary waved him through and Gerald barely glanced up when she announced his son had come for an impromptu chat—something that never happened.
“We need to talk,” he said, planting his hands on the back of the chair facing his father’s desk. The buttery-soft leather caved under his grip, clearly marking the indentations of his fingers.
“So talk.” Gerald looked up then, his expression impassive. If it was possible for the old man to say you’re wasting my time with a facial expression, then the message was coming through loud and clear.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”
Okay, so that wasn’t the question he’d planned on asking. But when the words slipped out, and the pressure in Caleb’s chest swelled and swelled until it pushed on his ribs and lungs and on his heart. Leaving wasn’t enough—anyone could resign. He wanted answers...and the truth.
He deserved it.
“You weren’t home.” Gerald’s ice-cold eyes stared right through him. “If we can’t rely on you to attend a dinner when you say you’re going to attend, then why should I go out of my way?”
“Because I’m your son. So what if I didn’t come to dinner? That pales in comparison to the fact that you have fucking cancer and didn’t tell me.” His hackles rose but he tightened his grip on the chair to give the tension a way out. Losing his cool in front of the old man would only shift the power balance away from him, and he couldn’t have that right now. “And it’s not like you ever seem to give a shit if I turn up to family things, anyway.”
Gerald put his Montblanc pen down with great effort, as though it seriously pained him to interrupt his work. “Is this because I named Jason my successor? I’m sorry, Caleb, but he is more qualified. I’ve been grooming him for years for this moment.”
“Honestly, I couldn’t care less what you do with this company anymore. But if you think this is about career jealousy
then you’re deluded.” He sucked in a breath. “And you know even less about me than I thought.”
“I have no idea why I assumed you’d give a second thought to your career.” Gerald huffed. “I doubt that topic has ever risen above what car you’re going to buy next or what woman you’re going to take into your bed.”
The words stung like an open-palmed slap across his face. “What’s the point in caring about my career when the glass ceiling is barely an inch from the floor?”
“I’ve given you plenty of chances, Caleb.” The impassivity started to crack and crumble, giving way to a raw anger underneath that most definitely wasn’t something new. Old wounds were a bitch like that. “I gave you a job that, frankly, you were underqualified for. I then promoted you to try and give you some incentive to care. Nothing works with you.”
“You think making me feel like a charity case was motivating?” Caleb spat the words out. “You made it clear from the start that you thought I would fail. It felt more like a social experiment than a favour. Be honest with yourself—with me—you don’t want me here any more than I want to be here.”
“It’s no longer my problem.” Gerald stood and folded his arms across his barrel of a chest. “Jason will have to keep you in line now.”
“No, he won’t.” Caleb shook his head. “I’m done.”
“Really, Caleb. Don’t be melodramatic—”
“Dad, I quit.” He said it as calmly as he could. Because he wanted this move to be a positive step for him—proactive rather than reactive. And while he couldn’t deny that his dying relationship with his father had a lot to do with it, Caleb knew it was time. He’d never find his place here. “I’m giving notice right now. I’ll be out of the office intermittently to take interviews. Margot will help out during the transition, but I’ve told her it’ll be Jason’s decision as to who replaces me permanently.”
For once in Caleb’s almost thirty years of life, his father looked truly gobsmacked. Oh, they’d argued over Caleb leaving before. But deep down he’d never had any plans to pull the trigger and his father knew that.
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