A Temporary Forever (Merged #1)

1. Caleb

Chapter 1

Caleb

T he brunette sitting at the long bar across the dining room has been eye-fucking me for the past ten minutes. I should send her a drink, but my expected company—although very delayed—might interfere with any plans the beauty might have for us.

Still, I smile at her, and she licks her lips. From my table, I have a great view of her body, and it’s giving me ideas.

I love a woman who carries her curves with confidence. When was the last time I hooked up with someone? The fact I don’t remember is depressing.

Perhaps if she stays around long enough, we can pick up this game after my dinner.

Where the hell is Saar?

My sister is always late. I don’t understand how she keeps any of her modeling gigs if she extends the same respect to her employers that she does to the rest of us.

And it’s not like she takes long to get ready. The woman hates makeup when she’s not working. At times, I wonder if she comes late just to mess with me.

I tap my fingers on the white linen tablecloth. The plate setting glows in the ambient amber light from the large industrial ceiling lamps.

Around me, tables hum with conversation. The servers work with efficiency and the courtesy of a place that’s well managed. Okay, maybe the bartender could prepare the orders—

Stop working.

Running hotels and restaurants globally, first under my father and now with my brother, Finn, instilled some habits that are hard to break.

I’m only here to eat, not increase their productivity and profit margins. Not that this Michelin-star restaurant needs my help.

Casa Cassi is as busy as always, but with my connections, I can get a table anywhere in the city.

Even though I hate what my last name represents, I’m not above reaping the benefits. Especially since Finn and I made a name for ourselves in the past year.

At least that one thing went well. I can’t say the same for the other parts of my life.

The brunette raises the cocktail to her lips, and I check my watch. Two more minutes, and I’ll walk over to her and take control of my night.

Saar can eat by herself if she doesn’t care to show up on time.

“Cal, I’m so sorry.” My sister’s breathy voice draws my attention.

I glance toward the bar one last time, and the brunette shrugs and, with an exaggerated pout, turns away. Yeah, sweetheart, I’m sorry too.

Standing up, I hug Saar and squeeze her extra hard. To rag on her, but also because I missed her.

Even at twenty-seven, Saar is the baby of the family, and since our parents don’t speak to us anymore, I feel more responsible for her than ever before.

Especially since Finn and I could be blamed for the fallout.

Our parents might’ve had it coming, but it still isn’t fair to Saar that she had to choose.

“Ouch, let go. I missed you too,” she squeals.

“You’re late.”

She kisses my cheeks, beaming as if being late is a commendable achievement. “I’m sorry, but I had to pick up Celeste.”

My smile falls as I realize the French dancer stands to the side. Celeste fucking Delacroix, the last woman I want to spend my evening with .

The woman is everything—curvy, graceful, radiant. That is, when you see her from afar, and she keeps her mouth shut.

I first met her when she choreographed Saar’s fashion show almost a decade ago, watching her from afar, and she dazzled me.

She knocked the air out of me that first encounter. Not that she fucking remembers it.

At least I hadn’t seen her for years until Saar insisted we have dinner together almost a year ago.

Little sis wanted to play matchmaker when Celeste lost work and needed a visa to stay here. I would have never agreed to dine with her, but it was my father’s fault she lost her job, so I showed up.

Big. Fat. Mistake.

She even criticized the air I breathe. And while I enjoyed riling her up, I didn’t particularly enjoy all her opinions.

There’s something about this woman that makes me act like an idiot. And that pisses me off.

I charm. I play offense. And yet this woman puts me on the defense more than I’d like.

“Celeste.” I nod.

“Prince Charming.” She bows her head briefly and rewards me with a smile that would get her an Oscar. If there was a faking category.

“I thought it was just the two of us,” I grumble to Saar.

“I know, but Celeste has a big night tomorrow, and she needed a break and a distraction.” Saar snatches the menu and starts reading.

“From what?”

“I have a lead role in a contemporary dance piece.” Celeste says it with such pride, I can’t help but smile.

“Congratulations.”

Maybe this evening can play out amicably. The woman clearly takes pride in her work—something I can admire.

The server arrives, reciting the specials. Saar orders several items on the menu, like she hasn’t eaten for days. And she probably hasn’t. Her job annoys me.

“Sorry, guys, I feel like I’m living in perpetual jet lag.” Saar yawns. She’s just flown back from Europe, where she spends most of her time. “After I quit, I’ll sleep for a year.”

“And you’ll finally live here,” Celeste cheers.

“Talking about quitting, is tomorrow really your last day at Quaintique-Linden?” Saar turns to me.

Yeah, as if my life hasn’t been turned upside down enough in the last eighteen months, I find myself exiting the career I always thought was my destiny. To my brother’s dismay, I’m quitting the company we created together.

“Yep.” I nod and take a sip of my drink. “So what is the lead role?” I try to redirect attention away from me, because I’m not discussing my existential crisis in front of a woman who is a mere acquaintance. One that has been avoiding my eyes since she arrived.

Celeste looks at me now, her green eyes sparkling. She starts talking with enthusiasm. And I find myself lured by her words.

Not so much their meaning, but the melody. The longer she talks, the more prevalent the soft, lyrical intonation of her accent is. She elongates the vowels, and puts a charming emphasis on certain syllables.

The words flow from her lips—and fuck, those lips are puffy and kissable—in a uniquely elegant way.

When the waiter brings our entrees, the women dive into another conversation. The actual topic just glides around me as my eyes continue wandering to the woman across from me.

Celeste is wearing a tight red dress, with a cut that exposes and hides her cleavage at the same time.

On anyone else, it would look skanky and cheap, but she effortlessly gives the dress a sense of intrigue and refined elegance.

Her alabaster skin contrasts with the carmine satin. Add the perfectly coiffed chestnut hair, and she has the allure of a fifties movie star, a sexy kitten, and an elusive temptress. All those mix with a precision that draws you in, without the draw being the objective .

My gaze drops before I catch myself.

“My eyes are here.” Celeste lowers her fork and points her fingers to her face.

Well, someone caught me. Fuck. But then, she hates me anyway, so why not have fun?

“Sorry, but your cleavage is inviting.”

“Cal!” Saar swats at me.

Celeste scoffs and pushes her plate away. “That doesn’t give you the right to blatantly glare at my boobs.”

“Oh, sweetheart, why did you dress like this, then?” Yep, I went there. And I called her sweetheart, because apparently tonight’s the night I completely lose my sense of propriety. Guess I left my manners at home.

Now Saar drops her cutlery. “Cal, what the fuck?”

But it’s not like I have a chance to score any brownie points here, so I shrug.

“I’m genuinely interested.” Not really, at the moment, but the issue is valid. “I mean, we’re friends here. Frankly, I don’t know any more when I can stare and when I can’t. Sometimes it feels that just by looking at my assistant when I speak to her, I might get slapped with a sexual harassment suit.”

And it’s true. I’ve never in my life made unwanted advances, but I’ve been accused of things—usually by women who are after my money .

I’m not discounting the prevalence or the disgusting nature of sexual harassment, but it’s annoying to be lumped in with my old man all the time.

I grew up with a father who routinely paid off women after he tired of them, or when they had no choice but to run to Human Resources.

My life is nothing like his, and yet often I’m judged for his actions.

Celeste raises her eyebrows slightly, but she quickly puts on the typical expression she wears around me. Like I’m an annoying mosquito.

“I wear this dress because I love it, and it makes me feel sexy and good. Because I love my body and feel comfortable in clothes like this.”

Fuck, that throaty r when she speaks. My cock twitches.

“Obviously,” I deadpan.

We glare at each other. I’m not even sure if I want to strangle her or bend her over this table and teach her a lesson. She dresses like prey, and I’m accused of being a predator.

I mean, I could have given her a compliment rather than stare. I didn’t even plan to stare. The woman is bad news as it is. I don’t need to pour oil into the fire.

“Okay,” Saar says. “Let’s go to the ladies’ while Cal orders another round of drinks and thinks about his apology.” She jumps up as if her chair has burst into flames.

Celeste drops her linen napkin on the table, her long red nails grazing the fabric. With the lithe moves of a gazelle, she throws her arm over the backrest of her chair.

I watch with fascination as the red nails disappear. She leans back in a fluid motion and crosses one leg over the other.

And now I desperately want to see her performance tomorrow night. What the fuck?

“I’m good.” She smiles at my sister.

Saar groans. “Okay, but don’t fight or kill each other while I’m gone.” She stomps away.

Celeste tilts her head to the side, apparently expecting an apology. One that I owe her. But the stubborn bastard in me refuses to budge.

I lean forward, my eyes boring into her stony emerald gaze. “You’re sexy, Celeste. So damn sexy that the man in me, the animal, can’t help but respond. So if you choose to be sexy, then you need to understand your goddamn sexiness gets reactions.”

She smiles. She fucking smiles. She never does what I expect. Fuck, I don’t even know what I was expecting from her.

“No, Cal.” She glides her tongue over her lips. “What I, and frankly, society expect is that the opposite sex is intelligent enough to tame the animal, to apply common sense and good manners, and not to let the drooling caveman direct his actions.”

“So you don’t want my compliments?” Obviously she doesn’t, but playing this tug-of-words with her is more thrilling than I’d ever admit.

She throws her head back, her fake laugh drawing attention around us. “I’ve lived without your compliments for twenty-seven years, I’ll do perfectly fine moving forward. But it wasn’t a compliment you offered. You were ogling me, and not even trying to be subtle about it.”

Fuck, why can’t I admit my defeat here? I really should. Just say sorry, Cal.

Instead, I lean back, crossing one leg over the other, mimicking her pose. If she’s the queen, I can be the fucking king. “It works.” I shrug.

With another saccharine smile, she leans forward, making sure her cleavage is on display. I don’t drop my gaze this time.

“I’m sure there are women who appreciate your behavior, but I like my men classy, with a dash of restraint in public places.”

“And I like my women a bit more blushing, and less opinionated.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not your woman.”