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

by S. M. Soto

  Or maybe it should.

  I head back into the grand room, searching for Callan in a sea of crowded people. When I find him, my heart falls. There, among all the other men in tailored tuxes, is Callan, dancing with another woman. A beautiful woman.

  I’m starting to wonder if he has a type.

  My stomach churns as I watch them together.

  This one is tall and platinum blonde, almost a replica of his fuck buddy from hell that stormed into the office not too long ago. It doesn’t escape my notice that all these women he seems to sleep with are opposites of me. Where their skin is pale, mine is tan. Where their hair is like golden spun silk, mine is closer to chocolate or midnight. Where their bodies are slim and demure, mine is curvy and out there.

  I can’t help but feel so incredibly jealous as I watch him dance with this other woman. They look good together, and the realization is a punch to the gut. For a few stolen moments, I watch as the old Callan comes to life. He smiles that charming smile I remember from my childhood…before things got ugly between us. As I’m standing there staring after him, pain ripping through my chest, shredding the organ lying there, I feel someone tap me lightly on my shoulder. I turn around, surprise lighting my features.

  “Beau?”

  He grins charmingly down at me. “How you doin’, darlin’?”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask as he pulls me into a friendly hug. When we pull apart, he shoots me one of his signature crooked grins. “Why else would I be here? I’m an architect.”

  Heat climbs into my cheeks. “Christ. That was stupid of me, wasn’t it?”

  “Never. You are cute when you’re flustered, though.”

  My embarrassment rises. “Stop it.”

  He leans in, laying it on extra thick. “You look exceptionally beautiful tonight.” He makes a show of raking his gaze over my flesh. I glance down at my throbbing feet in these heels. I feel like everyone’s eyes are on me except for the one man I want to look my way.

  I clear my throat. “It’s just a dress.”

  “You clean up well. I’m impressed. Now, what is so fascinating over there that you can’t stop staring at?”

  He follows the trajectory of my gaze and grins.

  “Ah, yes. Of course. Your boss. Or should I say your childhood lover?”

  I roll my eyes. “He was never my lover.”

  “But you wanted him to be.”

  As much as I want to deny it, every time I open my mouth with a rebuttal, nothing comes out. It’s like my body won’t even let the lie fall from my lips.

  “Dance with me.”

  My gaze shoots up to his, meeting those forest greens. “Oh, I don’t know. He didn’t really say I could go around dancing with anyone.”

  “I’m not just anyone, though, am I? Plus, I see the way you’re looking over there. How long are you gonna wait for Callan Reed to pull his head out of his ass and ask you to dance?” He raises a brow, satisfaction glinting in his eyes when he knows he has me hook, line, and sinker. “Come on and dance with me. You won’t regret it, I promise. A woman who looks as beautiful as you should be getting far more attention than you are.”

  Heaving a sigh, I fight a smile and take his hand. Beau leads me out onto the dance floor, amongst a sea of others. His arm bands around my waist, drawing us together, and his other hand takes mine as he leads me across the floor.

  “Mind explaining to me why you guys never got together?”

  I shrug, darting a look at Callan over my shoulder. He’s too busy dancing to notice us.

  “Well, his younger sister is my best friend, and we all grew up together. We were all best friends one day, and then the next, it was like he hated me. Everything changed. It felt like there was this constant push and pull between us. Him putting up this wall, pretending he didn’t care, and me stupidly thinking that I could trick myself into believing I didn’t care either.”

  “So you purposely let each other go?” he asks, tone tinged with confusion.

  I shake my head. “Not exactly. When my cousin moved in with us, everything between Callan and me pretty much went downhill. She was one of those people who knew how to prey on your weaknesses. She knew how I felt about Callan, and she went for him, anyway. I think some foolish part of me thought he’d be the bigger person and push her away because he knew how I felt about her. He knew about all the things she had done to me, and still, he let her into his life. That was the moment I knew Callan Reed wasn’t worth any of my time. Not anymore.”

  It occurs to me that I should probably stop here. Beau doesn’t want to hear any of the gory details concerning my past, but like I’m on autopilot, the truth spills past my lips. He makes it all too easy to get the pain of the past off my chest.

  Beau looks pensive as he stares down at me. “Wow. Didn’t expect that.”

  I laugh dryly. “Yeah, well, you asked.”

  “And this cousin? She still a problem for you two? Is she the reason you aren’t together?”

  Moisture burns the backs of my eyes as I think about Skylar and my husband—my ex-husband, I should say.

  I sniff back the pressure building in my nose. “No, actually, she died not too long ago. Not so funny story, I married the man Callan hated more than anyone. We dated in high school. Dean and Callan couldn’t stand each other. I’m sure you would’ve loved it. Anyway”—I clear my throat—“she had an affair with my husband. They had a child together.”

  “Holy shit, darlin’.”

  I gently wipe under my eyes, trying to catch any moisture that might have fallen. “That’s not even the worst part.”

  Surprisingly, worry enters his eyes. “What is?”

  I have to fight to hold back an onslaught of tears. “The worst part is, that baby? She’s now my daughter. She’s now the child I look down at every single day.”

  “Christ, please tell me you’re jokin’?”

  I shake my head, a sudden wave of sadness washing over me. “When I look at her, I see happiness, and sometimes, when I look at her, all I feel is sadness for everything I’ve lost.”

  A tear slips down my cheek, and Beau reaches out, swiping it away with his thumb.

  “You’re a bit of a saint, you know that? I can see why he keeps you around. I knew there was more to you than just your pretty face.”

  My brows pull down. “What do you mean?”

  He rolls his eyes as if I’m blind. “Forget it. Let’s just focus on turning that frown upside down, babe.” He leans in, gently tapping his forehead against mine.

  It makes me laugh.

  We dance together a while longer, and I use this time to take in Beau’s features. He’s incredibly handsome. I glance at the hand holding mine, trying to see if I spot a new wedding band. I imagine his ex-wife was beautiful, just like he is. Makes me wonder what happened between them. If what he told me in passing at the office is true.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “You want to know if I’m free for dinner tomorrow night? The answer is yes.”

  My lips twist with amusement. “No. I wanted to know about your previous relationship. You mentioned something about Callan. I guess I just wanted to know if it was true.”

  “Ah. Right. I forgot about that.”

  I quirk a brow. “Well?”

  “It’s simple, really. We were married for two years. I came home after a trip and found Callan fucking my wife. End of story.”

  Bile rises. That doesn’t sound like Cal at all. But then again, what do I know?

  “I’m so sorry, Beau.”

  He shrugs me off. “That’s in the past. I’m over it.”

  Judging by the tension that’s radiating off him, I doubt that’s true. If I look deep enough into his eyes, I can see the lingering effects of pain there—the scars of being hurt by the people he loved.

  Wanting to take his mind off the pain for a little while, I lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. When I pull back, there’s a slight surprise there, but a smirk slowly pu
lls across his face.

  “Any chance we can try that again on the mouth?” He winks at me, and a laugh bursts from my chest. He’s a welcome ray of sunlight in this dim evening.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  I stiffen at the sound of Callan’s irate growl. Beau’s grip around me tightens, and he chuckles. “Just having a dance, Reed. There a problem?”

  Callan’s gaze pierces mine. His eyes pause there, lingering, absolutely dripping with disdain and ice. They then drop down to where Beau’s hands are on me, and if possible, his aggravation ratchets up a few notches. “If you don’t get your hands off my assistant, Beau, you’re going to regret it.”

  A stifling tension ignites between them.

  “Threatening me now, Reed?” Beau challenges. I quickly dislodge myself from his arms when I see Callan’s composure snap. He reaches out toward Beau as though he’s going to snatch me, or worse, hit him in front of everyone.

  “That’s enough. Both of you,” I hiss, sparing a quick glance around to make sure we’re not causing a scene.

  Beau chuckles in victory, obviously enjoying how deeply he’s getting under Callan’s skin.

  “She’s your biggest regret, isn’t she?”

  “Watch it!” Callan growls, surging forward. I press more firmly against his chest, keeping him back.

  “Your mistake was letting her slip through your fingers. Don’t be surprised when someone else picks up your slack.” With those parting words, Beau disappears, leaving me with a fuming Callan. I risk a glance at him and find his face clouded with fury. His chest is rising and falling sharply, his gaze narrowed into thin slits, zeroed in on Beau’s retreating form.

  It takes him a few beats to pull himself together, and when he finally does, he glances down at me, the anger defused, only slightly.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course. We were just dancing, Callan.”

  “You kissed him. That didn’t look like ‘just dancing’ to me.” He scoffs.

  “I pecked him on the cheek. There’s a difference,” I say in defense.

  Taking me off guard, he pulls me into his arms. I have no other choice than to follow his lead as he guides me around the dance floor. I try to ignore the way my body reacts to his touch, as if remembering how good it felt when he touched me in my office. I feel him everywhere. As though we’ve tapped into a live wire, it feels as if I have electricity swimming through my veins.

  “How would you notice, anyway? You seemed too busy dancing to care.”

  With one hand clasped in his, he pulls me close, tightening the other around my waist. He holds me like a lover would as we spin in a slow twirl.

  I hate it.

  Yet secretly love it.

  “I noticed. I always notice you, Daisy.”

  My eyes shoot up to his, and they narrow. “I find that very hard to believe.”

  He looks heavenward. “She’s one of my client’s daughters. The woman I was dancing with.”

  “Looked awfully cozy.”

  Callan heaves a deep sigh. “I can say the same for you.”

  “Yeah, well, out of the two of us, I’m not a cheater. Excuse me if I don’t believe you.”

  He freezes. We stop in the middle of the dance floor. Slowly, he glances down at me, a fire brewing in his eyes. “What did you just say?”

  I disengage from his hold, turning my back on him. My stomach is buzzing violently with a swarm of angry bees. I need to get away from him before something else slips out without permission.

  I stalk away from him, past curious bystanders. I have no idea where I’m going, but I keep walking away from him and the elephant we both keep running from.

  When I reach an exit that leads outside into an immaculate garden with a Romanesque fountain, I breathe a sigh of relief. The sound of the water is tranquil. Tree branches sway in the distance, and the breeze hums through the crisp night air. After being wound so tightly, I feel my heart rate begin to return to normal. Until I sense him.

  The hairs at my nape stand at attention.

  “What is it you think you know, Daisy? Spit it out.”

  I grit my teeth together, trying to push away images of us on my desk, images of him with Skylar. Images of Skylar with my husband. It all blurs together painfully.

  I’ve found my hard limit. It’s cheating.

  I whirl on him, my chest rising and falling as it works to keep up with my heavy breathing. With our proximity, I’m certain he can see the imprint of my heart through my dress every time it slams against my rib cage. “You cheated! You’re just like him, if not worse!”

  A lengthy silence ensues.

  Somewhere in the distance, a bird squawks, its wings flapping recklessly, just like the beating organ in my chest.

  He steps into me. “I’m nothing like him.”

  The backs of my eyes burn. “Beau told me.”

  His jaw ticks. “Oh, did he? Did he tell you the whole story? That he and his wife were separated? That I knew nothing about their relationship? She said she was single when I met her, and I believed her—I had no reason not to. I didn’t care. I just wanted to fuck her, and she made it all too easy.”

  I take a hearty step away from him, my heart banging wildly, demanding more answers, but not wanting to hear more in equal measure. “I don’t want to hear that.”

  He grips me by the elbow, dragging me into him. I try to shove him away, but his grip tightens, keeping me in place. “Hear what? That I’ve fucked other people over the years? Why not?”

  “Stop it,” I grit.

  “Tell me why,” he demands, his stormy gaze searching mine with earnestness.

  “Because the thought of you with someone else, anyone else, makes me sick!” I yell, my voice echoing around us.

  We both freeze.

  Time stills as we both stand there, our chests heaving.

  In a flash of movement, he snakes his hand around my neck, tugging me flush against him, staring down at me with a fire brewing in his gaze. I feel his heart racing against my chest, thudding violently. Or maybe that’s my heart? So desperate in its attempt to smash between the barrier between us.

  “How do you think I felt for thirteen fucking years? How do you think I felt when I found out you got married? When I found out you were trying to start a family? Do you think it felt good, Daisy?”

  A tear trickles down my cheek. “You never cared about me.”

  “That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it. Now you know how it felt. Every second of every fucking day,” he hisses seconds before his mouth slams down on mine, and he kisses me. Warmth surges through my veins. I fall into him. A moan tumbles from my mouth into his, and he eats it up like he’s starved for me, starved for anything I’m willing to give him. His hands glide down my backside, squeezing the globes of my ass, drawing me into him.

  “I tried to do the right thing,” he growls against my lips. “I tried to keep you at a distance, but now that I’ve had you…” He pauses, his lips hovering a breath from mine as his grip tightly winds in the strands of my hair. “I’m never sharing you with anyone. You’re mine, Daisy. Mine,” he grunts, a fierce possessiveness lacing his words.

  I paw at him, my nails digging into the fine material of his tux, afraid he’s going to disappear, afraid I’ll wake up and this will all be a dream.

  We both pull back, panting, eyes wild with lust. There’s a dichotomy of sensations rolling around inside me. Part of me needs more while the other part of me needs it to stop. Lines are being blurred, and whatever ounce of control over the situation we thought we had has gone up in smoke.

  Who am I kidding? That happened the day he fucked me over my desk.

  “I’m so confused,” I whisper, my mind running a million miles a second.

  His eyes slam shut, and he tugs me against his broad chest. I feel him press his lips against the top of my head. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “But what about your award?”

  “They can send i
t to me.”

  I pull back, glaring up at him. “Callan.” The warning is clear in my tone. I can’t be the reason he misses out on something like this.

  He cocks a brow. “Daisy.”

  “I can’t let you leave.”

  “You’re not. I’m leaving because I want to. I’m leaving because if I don’t get inside you within the next thirty minutes, I’m going to lose my shit. Now, let’s go.”

  I follow Callan to the door of his suite that’s right next to mine. He opens it and steps back, motioning me inside. My hands fidget with the fur on my coat. Afraid I might pluck the damn thing bald, I take it off and lay it over the nearest chair.

  His suite is a replica of mine, down to the furniture and color scheme.

  I wring my hands together, then walk to the windows because I need a distraction.

  That doesn’t help.

  It feels as though my mind is filled with cotton, and I can’t think straight. I can’t seem to process anything other than that I want Callan to touch me. I need him to touch me.

  Closing my eyes, I suck in a deep breath before turning. Callan isn’t wearing his jacket anymore. His bowtie is off, and the first three buttons of his shirt are open. Sensing my gaze, he glances up, his stormy eyes clashing with mine.

  I gulp. Trapping my bottom lip between my teeth, I nibble there. I do this when I’m nervous, damn near chewing my bottom lip off altogether.

  His eyes flare as though he remembers this.

  He stalks toward me. Slow. Predatory.

  Breathe.

  Swallow.

  Pull it together.

  “Are you soaked, Daisy?”

  My back hits the wall of glass behind me. He cages me in, one arm braced on the window beside my head as he stares down at me. I can smell the whiskey on his breath from dinner. I can smell his aftershave, his distinct scent ingrained in my mind.

  God, when did he become this powerful, and when did I become so powerless?

  I shake my head, trying to focus on what he just asked, but I suddenly can’t remember. All I can focus on is his mouth, his proximity. The way his tongue juts out to wet his plump bottom lip.