The Seasons of Callan Reed: An Enemies-to-Lovers Office Romance

by S. M. Soto

  “Did I do something to upset you?” Trepidation drips from her tone.

  My driver glances back, our eyes meeting in the rearview mirror. I look away, a dry sound escaping my throat. It’s a cross between a scoff and a growl.

  “Something to upset me? Is that what you’re asking me right now, Ms. Casillas?”

  Our eyes clash, and I can see all the emotions rolling through her. I watch each of them cross her face: the anger, the regret, the goddamn lust. I wait for her to settle on the one that mirrors mine—frustration.

  “I can’t even keep up with these mood swings anymore.” Crossing her arms over her plump chest like a petulant child, she looks out the window. The rest of the drive back to the firm is spent in much the same way—a tense silence. Rain beats on the windows, only working us both up even more.

  Once the car rolls to a stop, she all but hops out. Her heels clack against the concrete as she tries to put as much distance as she can between us. Suddenly, she pauses, whirling on me with an aggravated growl.

  “You’re upset with me, for what? I did everything you asked of me. I came to this stupid dinner with you and played the part of the perfect assistant. What the hell could I have possibly done wrong this time, Callan?”

  My smile is cold. It feels like my veins are filling with ice as I stare down at her. The rain beats on us, soaking through my suit jacket. Her curled hair is already damp, hanging limply around her. “You think flirting with those men makes you a perfect assistant?” I quirk an arrogant brow because I know how much it ticks her off. I eat up the distance between us. “It makes you look like a fucking fool. It makes me look like a fool.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I was not flirting!”

  Rain pounds on us, and we stand there, squaring off, right outside of my office building.

  “You really want to do this right now?” My voice is eerily calm.

  Her lips press together in a grim line. “It’s better than dealing with your passive-aggressive bullshit!”

  “All right. Fine.” I take a step toward her, eyes narrowing in distaste. “You looked cheap back there, sandwiched between the two of them like a whore.” She sucks in a sharp gasp. My words force her to stagger back like they were a blow. “That was a business meeting, and you spent it flirting instead of doing your fucking job.”

  “Excuse me?” Raindrops roll down her face. One, in particular, hangs off her nose, perilously close to falling. I flash back to her at the restaurant. The way she laughed, so carelessly. In all the time she’s been working for me, she’s never laughed like that, with no inhibitions. That red haze of anger only grows stronger. The jealousy twists in my gut, wreaking havoc in my chest.

  “Would you have gone home with either of them?” I taunt, my voice taking on a dark note to it. “Because that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? To take you home.”

  Heat climbs into her tan cheeks, and her chest rises and falls recklessly. I force myself to keep my gaze focused on her face. The cool drops of rain continue to pound down on us, rolling over her soft features. With each sharp breath, I feel the soaked material cling to my skin, and as I glance at her, it’s no different. Her clothes are clinging to her body, matted to her curvy flesh.

  Daisy’s eyes narrow into thin slits, and she takes a threatening step toward me, finger raised like it’s a weapon. “Take that back.”

  I close the distance between us, crowding her personal space. “Why should I? You embarrassed me back there.”

  Tears glimmer in her eyes. “I embarrassed you? Is that really what this is?” she challenges, pissing me off more.

  My fists curl at my sides. That unexplainable ire that I remember from our childhood roars between us with a vengeance, rearing its ugly head.

  “Are you that starved for attention, that hard up, Daisy?” I spit, reveling in the way my words so obviously pain her. It flashes across her face. The pain skirts over her features in a way that should make me remorseful, but it doesn’t. “Do you not know the line between what’s right and wrong anymore? Maybe you never have.”

  A shiver wracks her small frame, and for a second, I think maybe it’s from the rain, but when her eyes cloud with fury, I realize that’s not it. It’s her displeasure. She stares up at me, heat emanating from her small body in waves. Her bottom lip trembles, and I expect her to burst into tears. I wait for it, steeling myself, but she surprises me instead.

  Her nostrils flare. A scoff works its way up her throat, and it’s such an ugly sound that I flinch internally. She suddenly snaps, her hands shoving at my chest—the resounding slap of her palm against the damp material of my shirt echoing around us. We’re dripping with water, the streets now empty, as though no one wants to be around for our impending detonation. It’s just us and our anger, much like it usually is.

  “He wanted to take me out. You’re right about that, but you know what? I said no. Want to know why? Because I was busy working on sealing the deal for you. Warren and Thompson want to recommend your firm to their reps. Did you know that? Of course you didn’t because you’re a fucking asshole!” She shoves at my chest one last time before she spins on her heels, heading inside the building.

  I stare after her. That anger I was hanging on to like it was an anchor, I feel it slipping away, gliding between my palms, ripping the skin there to shreds. Swiping a frustrated hand through my drenched hair, I follow her.

  Back on the top floor, the only people left hanging around the office are Claire and a few other associates. She eyes me warily as I pass the reception desk. I’m sure watching Daisy storm past her, dripping with water, and me, looking much the same, would make anyone raise their brows in question.

  In my office, I change into one of the extra suits I have on hand in my closet. I pour myself a drink and stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the gloomy city. Outside of the office, I can hear people trickling out, saying their goodbyes for the day.

  Even though it’s a bad idea, I ring Daisy, demanding she meet me in my office. I don’t expect her to pick up, let alone listen, but color me surprised when she stands there at my open door, still dripping wet. Her lips are tinged a slight blue from the cold. Her long hair hangs around her, some of her mascara smeared under her eyes. She looks a mess, a beautiful fucking mess.

  “You wanted to see me?” Her voice is raw and scratchy, probably from all the shouting she did at me on the sidewalk.

  “Take a seat.”

  Her left eye twitches at the order. She steps inside my office but refuses to take a seat. Instead, she stands directly beside the chair, glowering at me.

  “I’ll stand.”

  Fucking pain in my ass.

  Blowing out a breath, I take a few steps away from the windows, toward her. Her eyes trek my movements like she’s a cornered animal and I’m the predator, circling my prey.

  “Take it,” I say, grabbing the shirt off my desk. “I have extras in the closet.”

  Her brows pull together, confusion flitting across her face for a few seconds before it’s brushed aside by her hatred again. “What does it matter?” she snaps. “There’s no one here, anyway. I don’t need your dry clothes.”

  My hands curl into fists at my sides. With a mind of their own, my eyes sweep across her chest, and I can clearly make out her nude lace bra beneath. I gnash my back teeth together. “It matters.”

  Her eyes narrow. Tension crackles in the air between us. “Why?”

  I don’t know how it happens—if she steps closer to me or I do—but somehow, we’re inches apart, nearly toe to toe. I can smell her, feel the heat emanating from her body.

  “If it isn’t obvious, you’re wet, dripping water all over my floors, and your damp clothes leave nothing to the imagination.” My words come out gruffer than I intended. And she notices. Of fucking course she does. Her lips part in shock, her pink tongue juts out, swiping across that plump lower lip. I feel the effects of it jump straight to my cock. Heat climbs up the back of my
neck. Something crackles in the air, a potency, an undeniable attraction percolating between us.

  I watch closely, the way her eyes turn to liquid pools of warm chocolate with swirls of caramel. Those eyes dart down to my lips, and I don’t miss the hitch of her breath.

  “Why the hell would I take anything you offer me,” she husks out.

  The muscle in my jaw tightens angrily as I close the remaining distance between us. We’re practically nose to nose. Or more accurately, face to chest since she’s so much shorter than me. I expect her to hurl herself away, but she stands her ground, watching me through narrowed slits.

  “Because you work for me, and when I tell you to do something, you do it.”

  I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but with eyes boring into hers, I reach out, grasping a wet strand of her hair. I rub it between my fingers, watching the way her breath catches. Her eyes widen, clearly surprised. Letting go of the strand, I wrap my hand over the nape of her neck in a show of possession, and she melts. With my other hand, I shove the dry shirt into her grasp. Heat flares to life in her eyes. It’s as if my touch is the catalyst.

  We lean in, our lips only a breath apart. She’s breathing life into me. That’s what this feels like, and I haven’t even kissed her yet.

  Something like a mewl whispers past those plump lips, shattering my composure. With a growl, I drag her lips to mine and kiss her. I taste her lips, soaking in the nostalgia. Working my tongue against hers, I drag helpless sounds out of her. She kisses me back with equal fervor, and I kiss her with all the chaos she builds inside me. Everything between us is untethered, loose, and so fucking primal.

  When she rests her hands on my chest, digging her nails into me, it’s a staggering jolt to the present. I rip myself away from her, both of our chests rising and falling sharply. Her lips are red and raw from the force of my kiss.

  “What have you done?” she whispers, voice filled with grit and regret.

  A tightness grips my chest.

  I steel myself for what I’m going to do next.

  “Get the fuck out of my office.”

  It takes some time for my harsh words to penetrate, but once they do, her eyes widen, and she stumbles back, away from me. Daisy presses her fingers to her lips, her brows drawn together in confusion, likely wondering how she let that happen. With my shirt still clutched in her hand, she whirls around and damn near runs out of my office.

  I was on a record high ever since Callan gifted me with paint supplies, but of course, as if sensing the healthy dose of camaraderie between us, he had to ruin it by insulting me. Insinuating that I was starved for affection. Insinuating that I would even think about rolling around with men he was trying to do business with.

  I thought he knew me better than that.

  I thought he respected me more than that.

  But I couldn’t have been more wrong. That was my first mistake, thinking Callan Reed could be a decent human being for even a few seconds.

  I don’t know what I was thinking when I kissed him last night. Or when I let him kiss me. I was just so…angry. I’ve been holding this anger for years, and it’s like every time I’m alone with him, I’m at war with my emotions. My heart and brain are constantly on the outs.

  If I thought a kiss would change anything between us, I was wrong. Today has been a day from hell, and I know I say this about most days while working for Callan, but I really mean it today. It’s as though he woke up and decided he wanted to make my life a living hell. Like he woke up and remembered how I tasted on his tongue and decided he wanted no part of it.

  Should’ve never kissed me then, asshole.

  He yelled at me this morning for being one minute late, then demanded I go home and change my clothes because they were too distracting for his clients, and not in a good way. He basically took a shit in my Cheerios and told me my clothes were horrid. To make matters worse, I was so frustrated that I purposely took my time going home to change, which only pissed him off more. I already let this slide once with the red dress. I wasn’t going to do it again so amicably.

  “Didn’t realize it took three hours to change clothes. You can bet you’ll be making up that extra time after work.”

  He doesn’t care that I don’t pay the sitter to stay with Faith for extra hours. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself, and I’m tired of it. Sick and tired.

  When my desk phone starts ringing, and I see who it is, I just about start crying. I almost thought I escaped the rest of the day unscathed.

  My heart jumps into my throat, anxiety riding my body so hard, pain shoots across my muscles and bones. “Mr. Reed.”

  “Get in my office, now.” His deep tenor voice cuts across the line, annoyance obvious in his tone. My eyes slam shut when the line goes dead.

  Lord, give me strength.

  I knock three times on his door, waiting for his answer before I let myself in. Seated behind that monstrosity of a desk with the impeccable view behind him, he glares up at me.

  “Since you’ll be working here well into the night, I need you to get started on the listings I sent you. I want it finished and on my desk before I leave.”

  “Mr. Reed,” I grit my teeth. “I told you I can’t stay late.”

  He grinds his jaw. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before taking three hours to change your clothes.”

  “You were being a jerk!” I shoot back defensively.

  He lifts a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “That’s not my problem. You’ll stay until eight tonight and get it done.”

  Reaching my quota of bullshit for the day, I snap. “I’m only going to say this one more time. I cannot stay late tonight. I have no one to watch my daughter. I will make up the time another day.”

  His eyes glint. “No. You’ll stay tonight.”

  “Are you hard of hearing? I can’t.”

  “As a matter of fact, you can. I’ve already smoothed it over with my mother.”

  My mouth hangs open, shock surging through my body. “Your—your mother?” I sputter.

  “Yes. She’ll watch the child while you finish what needs to be done.”

  “Who do you think you are?” I hiss, stepping farther into his office. All that’s left between us is the large slab of wood that is his desk. If I’m being honest, that’s the only thing keeping me from wrapping my hands around his thick neck and squeezing.

  “My mother understands I am trying to run a business.”

  “No, your mother understands you’re an asshole!” I shoot back.

  “Let’s make it eight-thirty now for your insubordination, or shall we try for nine?”

  “You’re a cruel son of—”

  “Ah, ah, ah. I’d be very careful about what comes out of that mouth next.”

  With a frustrated growl, I storm out of his office, ignoring the curious glances of everyone surrounding us. They should be used to this by now.

  I’m fuming.

  I pace the small confines of my office, mumbling threats of bodily harm under my breath as I think about Callan.

  I hate him.

  Truly.

  “That stupid, asshole, son of a fucking—”

  “Watch it.”

  All the blood drains from my face, and I jerk to a halt at the sound of his voice.

  Oh, shit.

  When I hear the door click shut behind me, I slam my eyes closed, internally berating myself. Why couldn’t I just shut up and take my punishment like a regular employee?

  “You know, Ms. Casillas, for someone who really needs this job, you’re acting like you don’t want it at all.”

  I spin around on my heels, my eyes flashing with contempt. “Maybe I don’t want this job anymore. Maybe I’m sick and tired of working for you.”

  His eyes glitter with abhorrence. His tongue juts out, moistening his lips that are tugged into a smirk. “Oh, really?”

  My stomach dips and my core clenches just thinking about the way his lips felt on mine.

&n
bsp; He takes a step toward me, and the balance in the room shifts, tipping in his favor. It’s suddenly stifling in here, so hot, I can hardly breathe. The tension between us is impossibly thick, no longer safe to wade through.

  We’re combustible.

  It feels as though every fight between us has suddenly led to this moment.

  “Yes, really! If I haven’t made it obvious, you’re an asshole,” I snap, my voice growing louder. “An absolute nightmare to work for. I’m done!”

  During my spiel, I didn’t notice him stepping closer, and now that he’s here, mere inches away from me, he’s clouding my every thought. I can’t think straight when he’s this close.

  “You’re not done.”

  “Excuse me? You can’t tell me if I’m done or not.”

  “On the contrary, I can. You see, I quite like you at my beck and call like this, Daisy.”

  My heart thunders in my chest at the sound of my name falling from his lips. It causes a ruckus. He usually calls me by my last name, depriving me of what a joy it is to hear my first name in his voice. It trips me up, giving me pause.

  “I’m done being at your beck and call, you asshole—”

  “Don’t you ever shut up?” he growls, closing the rest of the distance between us. His lips suddenly crash against mine, and his arms wrap around my waist, the pads of his fingers digging into my flesh. I take a few seconds to catch up, but I fall into him when I do. I fall into the kiss, like putty in his arms. A moan tears from my lips, and when his fingers deftly press against my aching core, fireworks light up inside my body.

  “What are you doing?” I pant against his mouth, my arousal clouding all rational thought.

  Callan pulls back just slightly, staring down at me with so much heat in his bright eyes that my heart skips a beat. “Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

  His mouth takes mine in a fierce kiss, one that travels all the way down to my bones. It takes my breath away. It shatters everything I thought I knew about love. He kisses me like this is our last kiss on earth.