“Who happens to be Calum’s best friend.”
“Merda. It’s almost incestuous.”
Laurella smiled. “I have to go. It’s late here, and I’ve an early start tomorrow. Give the kids a kiss from me, and say hello to Papa and Mama when you see them later.”
“I will. Love you, Ella.”
“Love you, too.”
Laurella hung up. Even though her sister hadn’t offered any earth-shattering advice, just hearing her voice had bolstered Laurella’s spirits. She could handle Calum Brook. From now on, she’d be polite, professional, and refuse to rise to his gibes. She brushed out her hair, got dressed for bed and, after setting the alarm on her cell for six the next morning, snuggled under the sheets.
Laurella drifted off to sleep but was awoken sometime later by soft moans that bled through the wall, gradually growing in volume. Her eyes sprang open.
Oh no. How much shittier could her night get? Mortified, she grabbed her pillow and slammed it over her ears to try to drown out the increasing ecstasy from next door. Vonny was not to be silenced. But from Calum? Not a sound. No groaning, no panting—nothing.
She grabbed a blanket and stomped into the living area of her suite. After a mere ten minutes, the hard sofa gave her terrible backache. Dammit. She had no choice but to go back to bed.
She hadn’t been there long when the sounds on the other side of the wall started up again. Vonny screamed Calum’s name, and Laurella tightened her hands into fists, heat flushing through her body. She pulled the covers over her head and squeezed her eyes closed. As she lay alone in the dark, though, it wasn’t the sexual noises from next door that kept her awake. The quickening heartbeat, the dry throat, and the tugging sensation in her gut led her to one conclusion: she was envious of the woman on the other side of the wall.
Chapter 8
Calum waited for Vonny to fall asleep before he slipped out of bed and crept next door into the living room of his suite. He felt around in the darkness, eventually happening upon the bottle of whiskey he’d brought back with him after leaving Laurella in the restaurant.
After pouring a healthy amount into a glass, Calum went to sit by the window. Sweeping a hand over his face, he stared at the closed bedroom door. He must have had rocks in his head to bring Vonny back here. When she’d told him she was moving to Chicago two years before, he’d pretended to be disappointed that their on-off relationship would have to come to an end, but in reality, he’d been thrilled. She’d saved him the job of finishing it between them, whatever ‘it’ had been. And yet, in order to stick it to Laurella—figuratively speaking—he’d stuck it to Vonny. The sex had been average, although Vonny would have disagreed, if her screams were anything to go by. He’d come only because he’d closed his eyes and pictured a dark-haired vixen who was invading his thoughts far too often of late.
Laurella… why did she get under his skin so much? How could he be so attracted to a woman he abhorred? How did that fucking work?
He tossed back the whiskey, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction from the fire in his gut as he thought of the woman sleeping next door. The walls at this hotel weren’t exactly soundproof so, no doubt, she’d have heard his nocturnal activities. And that bothered him. He didn’t have a clue why it would, but facts were facts.
Vonny appeared at the bedroom door, naked, bleary-eyed, hair a holy mess, mascara smudges beneath her eyes. She yawned then stretched her arms overhead, the movement thrusting her breasts forward. He waited for a twinge in his groin. Nothing.
“Baby, what are you doing up? Come back to bed.” She held out her hand and beckoned to him.
“Can’t sleep.” He ignored her invitation, and her hand fell to her side. It didn’t stop her from walking over to him, though. He ground his teeth. She never could take a fucking hint.
“Who said anything about sleeping?” She began to straddle his thighs until he stopped her.
“Not now,” he snapped.
Vonny scowled. “Same old Calum, I see. Gets what he wants and then casts you aside like trash.”
Calum raked her with a cutting gaze. “Believe me, I most certainly did not get what I wanted.” Because what I want is on the other side of that wall.
“Charming.” Vonny sneered. She tossed her head and stomped back into the bedroom.
Calum huffed then got to his feet and followed her. She’d better be getting dressed. He opened the door. Vonny had burrowed back underneath the covers and was staring at him, a painted-on expression of hurt tightening her face.
Fuck’s sake.
“Get out, Vonny,” Calum said. “I’ve got an early start in the morning.”
“You’re kicking me out?” She frowned and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s two in the morning.”
“You’re staying in the goddamn hotel. It’s hardly forcing you to sleep on the street.” Irritated when she didn’t move, he sighed. “Why are you behaving differently? This is how it’s always been between us, Vonny. You had an itch. I scratched it for you. Now it’s time for you to go.”
She paused for a second, probably wondering whether he’d change his mind. He wouldn’t. Even when Vonny had lived in New York, they’d never spent the whole night together, and she knew that.
He kept his gaze trained on her, and eventually, she pouted and flung the covers to one side. “I thought it might be different this time.”
He frowned, genuinely confused. “Why would it be?”
“You can be such a bastard, Calum.”
He ignored her, his shoulder propped against the doorjamb, arms folded, watching as Vonny pulled on her panties, followed by her dress. She shoved her feet into her shoes and slung her purse over her shoulder.
“Do me a favor,” she said. “Next time you fancy a quick fuck, pick on some other idiot.”
Oh, darling, now you’re pissing me off. He yawned and scratched his cheek when he could have ripped into her. Hell, in the past, he would have ripped into her. “Are you still here?”
Vonny’s jaw tightened, and she pressed her lips together. When she passed by, she made a point of jolting her shoulder into his chest. Calum didn’t react, and when the door slammed behind her, he let out a huge fucking sigh of relief. Taking Vonny up on her offer of emotionless sex had been a mistake—one he wouldn’t be repeating.
His gaze fell on the rumpled sheets, and a sudden urge came over him to strip the bed. He tossed the sheets on the floor then opened the closet door, took out the obligatory blanket all hotels kept on the top shelf, and spread it over the mattress.
He lay in the dark, listening to his own breathing, and reached a hand behind his head to touch the wall. Beyond the thin layer of drywall and paint was Laurella, probably fast asleep, her thoughts and dreams far from him.
If only he could say the same.
Chapter 9
Calum scanned the restaurant, searching for Laurella. He couldn’t see her. She must not have made it down for breakfast yet. He slipped into a booth with a view of the entrance and ordered coffee and juice. As the waitress brought his drinks over, he spotted Laurella chatting to the greeter. She’d pulled her hair into a high ponytail, leaving her long, elegant neck bare. It gave her a younger look, one he found extremely appealing.
He raised his hand and pointed to the spare seat opposite. He wouldn’t have put it past her to go sit somewhere else but, ever the professional, she headed on over.
“Good morning,” she said, the politeness in her tone setting his teeth on edge.
“Coffee?” he asked.
She nodded.
He signaled to the waitress then turned his attention back to Laurella. “All set for today?”
“I am,” she said. “Not sure about you, though. You seem a little tired, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Calum scowled. “I’m fine.”
“Late night?” She stared at him innocently, but the minutest curve to her lips gave her away.
“Carry on like that, Laurella,
and I’ll think you’re jealous.”
She snorted. “Of you and that woman you picked up? Hardly.”
“If you’re not jealous, why are your cheeks flushed?”
“I wasn’t aware they were.” She fanned her face with the menu. “It is a little warm in here.”
Her calm demeanor increased his irritation. He wanted to get a rise out of her, to have that fiery Italian temper aimed in his direction. Her casual indifference would soon wear thin.
He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table. “You don’t fool me, sweetheart. You can lie to yourself but not to me. You virtually turned green last night when I left with Vonny.” He grinned. “Just say the word, and I’ll make you scream like I did with her.”
She laughed, the sound brittle and tinged with derision. “Not even if you were the last man on Earth. You may think you’re God’s gift, but I prefer my men a little more humble and a lot more self-aware.”
He opened his mouth to respond but was curtailed when the waitress brought Laurella’s coffee.
“Can I get this to go?” Laurella asked her.
“Sure thing,” the waitress replied. “I’ll be back in two.”
Laurella stood. With her fingers pressed to the table, she bent forward, showing the merest hint of cleavage. He lowered his gaze before dragging it back up to her face.
“Enjoy the view,” she said. “It’s the closest you’ll ever get. So, before we head into the day, let me make one thing clear: I’m not interested.”
Calum leaned away and draped his arm across the back of the booth. He looked her up and down while tonguing his teeth then lifted his eyes to hers. “Say it enough times, and you might even convince yourself. But you won’t convince me, sweetheart.”
With a frustrated huff, Laurella set off after the waitress. Calum grinned to himself. He loved getting the last word. He’d won that battle. Bring on the next.
Her stomach rumbled, forcing Laurella to grab a pastry from the deli in the lobby. She would have liked something a little more filling, especially as it might be the last thing she ate before dinner. Calum had ruined that plan. The worst of it, though, was that he’d been right. She was jealous. Not that she’d ever admit such a thing. Hell would freeze over first. Calum’s high opinion of himself did not need any stroking from her.
She returned to her room, grabbed her notebook, and headed down to the conference room, thinking she might as well get an early start. It was never too soon to begin networking. With any luck, she’d avoid Calum for as long as possible.
The large room was set up classroom style. Laurella entered, spotting a couple of other people milling about. She wasn’t the only early bird, then. She introduced herself, glad to have someone to stand with while she waited for the conference to begin.
The room rapidly filled up. Laurella sat beside the people she’d already introduced herself to. Still no sign of Calum. Well, too bad. There weren’t any seats left near her, so he’d have to sit elsewhere. She wasn’t complaining.
A glance at the schedule showed that the first speaker was someone she couldn’t wait to hear. Daryl Hudson was CEO of an online clothes company that he’d started from scratch. Even though Necron operated in a very different field, she could still learn a lot from his perspective on growth. Daryl, too, had begun his career in marketing, and she was hoping that by listening to the lecture, Calum might at least begin to understand that having a robust and growth-focused marketing strategy was key to taking Necron from a small to a medium-sized business. Without that type of game plan, they’d be unlikely to achieve their goals.
She reached for the water and unscrewed the bottle top. A cool finger trailed across the back of her neck. She jumped, spilling the water all over her notebook.
“Oh, shoot,” she said, dabbing the soaked paper with a napkin. She glanced over her shoulder and scowled. Calum! “What are you doing?”
“I got us seats over there.” He pointed across the room.
“I’m fine here, thank you.”
Calum reached over her shoulder and picked up her notebook and pen. He walked away without saying another word. Damn the man. She had two choices: either stalk after him and snatch her stuff back, or meekly follow and look like a complete pushover. Actually, strike that. She only had one choice—and Calum knew it. Murmuring apologies to the person sitting next to her, she gathered her purse and bottle of water and trudged across the room.
Calum ignored her as she sat beside him, choosing instead to chat with the woman on his right. He murmured something under his breath, and the woman giggled, her body automatically leaning toward his. Laurella gritted her teeth. She had to hand it to him—Calum could turn on the charm when he wanted. She was the only one who seemed to feel his wrath.
After the initial presentations were over, the first breakout session began. Now, this was the main reason she’d wanted to come to this event—the chance to network, to swap thoughts and ideas, and to learn from others. She slipped away while Calum was deep in conversation with his seat neighbor. Probably negotiating the route into her panties, Laurella thought uncharitably.
She joined a group of marketers, and soon they were sharing their experiences. There was a broad mix. Some worked at companies such as Necron—up-and-coming small and medium-sized enterprises—and others at the large conglomerates. But the one thing they all had in common was regular conflict with the sales department.
“I got on fairly well with the sales director at my last place,” Laurella said to a young guy standing to her left who was having a particularly bad time. “It’s been my experience that sales teams are like abusive spouses. When things are tough, they want to blame, to take it out on the marketing department, to beat up on them. But when they want something, they’re as sweet as pie.”
“That’s an interesting concept,” an all-too-familiar voice drawled behind her. She inwardly groaned as Calum muscled his way into the gathering. His arm brushed hers, and she thought about stepping to the side, but that would have meant getting far too close and personal with the man on her left. “Calum Brook,” he said, layering on a charming smile. “The abusive spouse.”
A guy standing across from her sniggered. Deciding it was time to find a new bunch of friends, Laurella stepped away. She didn’t get far, though. Calum’s hand shot out, and he gripped her elbow, holding her firmly in place.
“It’s been my experience,” he said, parroting Laurella’s words, “that sales teams are hunters. They’re agile predators who act fast, bring home the prize, and then quickly move on to the next kill. Whereas marketers”—he turned to Laurella with a devious grin—“are much more interested in setting a trap and simply hoping their prey takes the bait.”
A few people snorted with laughter, which, considering Calum had basically insulted their profession, showed once more how he could charm a snake when the mood took him.
“As fascinating as that theory is, Calum,” Laurella said, her tone dripping sweetness, “the fact remains that without marketing, the sales department wouldn’t have any prey to hunt.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said. “I found plenty of prey to hunt before I met you. And I had a lot of fun pursuing them, too.”
His double entendre wasn’t lost on her. The man even had the gall to wink. Laurella managed to free herself from his grip in a subtle way without drawing any extra looks from the group, who were already watching the exchange between her and Calum with barely veiled fascination.
“How lovely for you,” she murmured. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She stepped away, half expecting Calum to follow, but instead, he simply turned his back and carried on chatting as though the spiky interchange hadn’t happened at all.
With her heart pummeling against her ribcage, Laurella headed outside for a breath of fresh air. She sat on a bench right by the front entrance, her chin trembling with suppressed anger. She’d hoped that by being away from the confines of the office in New York, she and Calum might f
ind a way to work together, but it seemed that particular hope was little more than a pipe dream. He was toying with her, and she didn’t have a clue about how to fight back. She’d faced worse than him, so why did he get to her so much? How did he burrow beneath her skin and lay his poison, making her throat burn and her hands inadvertently form into fists?
“There you are.”
She lifted her chin, shielding her eyes from the sun. Calum wandered over and sat beside her. He handed her a coffee. Their fingers brushed as she took it from him, sending an unwanted shiver down her spine.
“Thank you.” She peeled off the plastic lid, the welcome smell of coffee tickling her nostrils. For a second, she considered throwing it all over Calum’s pristine white shirt. It would serve him right for the way he’d behaved. Instead, she blew on the hot liquid and sipped, her attention locked on a point in the distance.
“I know I’m a bastard,” he said, drawing her gaze to him.
“Yes. You are.”
“How about a cease-fire?” he said.
She eyed him with suspicion. “What’s brought this on?” When he shrugged one shoulder but didn’t answer her, she added, “For how long?”
His genuine laugh made something funny happen to her insides. She didn’t like the sensation one bit.
“At least until the conference is over or you do something to piss me off. Whichever comes first.”
“And what if you do something to piss me off?”
He clasped a hand to his chest. “Me? Never.”
Despite her deep-seated irritation with her nemesis, her lips twitched, but as she gazed into his green eyes, the bright sunshine highlighting flecks of gold around the edge of his irises, a tremor sent shockwaves through her body. She recognized the sensation, of course. Lust. Desire. Longing. Any of those words would suffice. But she could not let the bane of her life know her innermost feelings. They were hers and hers alone. She needed to concentrate on how he made her working life a misery. That should be more than enough to keep the unwanted hankering at bay.
Against All Odds (A Brook Brothers Novel Book 2) Page 6
