24. Caleb
Chapter 24
Caleb
“ W hat the actual fuck, Cal? Out of all people, you leave to work with that motherfucker?” Finn didn’t even want me to come to our—his—offices.
The server at the Madison Club bristles, halting three feet from our table, the two plates with our lunch wobbling in her hands.
I smile at her, and she looks at my seething brother, then takes one more step.
He notices her and gestures for her to bring the food to our table. I’ve never seen someone serve food so fast, and I grew up in the hospitality industry.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asks, maintaining a professional and very forced smile.
Finn scoffs at her, clarifying that the only thing we want is privacy. The poor woman scurries away, leaving me alone with my brother’s wrath.
I’ll be sure to tip her generously, and I’d laugh at the scene. But my current situation is not humorous.
“Calm down, asshole.” I put a napkin across my lap as if I have any appetite.
“The only asshole here is you, Cal.” Finn tears apart his salmon with a fork like it offended him. “What will Saar say?”
“Saar knows.”
This stops him in his violent food attack. He pins me with a look of disappointment and, fuck, I think hurt. “I see.”
“No, Finn, you don’t see. You called me here to throw a tantrum while you know shit about the situation. And you judge based on some forgotten feud without giving me the benefit of the doubt.”
He inhales to protest, but I stop him with my hand. “You’re not my fucking father, so don’t act like him. You, out of all people, should understand.”
Closing his eyes momentarily, he sighs, his jaw still ticking with frustration or perhaps with a bit of regret. “Fuck.” He drops the fork and pushes his plate away, the salmon thoroughly cut and uneaten.
“You should get some protein in you, so you don’t get cranky.” I smirk .
He glares at me, but I push my plate away as well because eating is the last thing on my mind.
“Fuck, Cal. So Saar is okay with this?”
Of course he’s concerned about her, and I’m glad his anger came from that protective place. But as much as I hate to admit it, I wish he was concerned about me.
“She’s okay with it.”
Finn nods and leans back in his chair, observing me.
I guess if I want to discuss it more, he’s not going to initiate. “She is, but I’m not.”
Finn flinches. “What the fuck, Cal? Did he manipulate you? Blackmail you? Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
“Finn, I swear to God, cut the fucking parental routine or this conversation is over. I need your advice.”
He plays with his wedding band, a new habit of his when he’s thinking, and then he nods. It’s all he does, but we’ve known each other our whole lives, and I know I’ve got his attention.
“I’ve been in conversation with Merged, the three partners, since the day I left—”
He opens his mouth, but I stop him again. “Chill, it’s not the reason I left. I wasn’t planning to launch into something new, but fuck, Finn, their concept just speaks to me. ”
I give him a top-line overview of the Merged mission and vision, and he listens intently, interrupting with a question here and there.
“Okay, I see how the company is a good fit for you. But the partners?”
“That’s where it’s all screwed up.”
After I left Celeste in her new dance studio and called Xander, it was too late to pump the brakes on Cormac fucking Quinn’s plans to lock in my involvement. The asshole announced the new company and its partners with a press release.
“Not surprising with Quinn involved. What happened?” Finn asks.
“I wanted to secure my position, and we’ve been negotiating my share.”
“That’s smart.” Finn picks up his glass of water.
“We haven’t agreed on anything yet.”
Finn stops with his hand halfway to his mouth. “The announcement named you as a partner.”
“Yep. I guess the answer to your question—if he tried to blackmail me—is yes.”
“That motherfucking piece of shit. But what does he gain? You can simply announce he made it up and he’ll look like an idiot.”
I play with my lunch like that will help me time travel, or kill Quinn without consequences.
“Cal? What did he have to say for himself? ”
“I haven’t spoken to him yet.”
“What?”
“Mostly because I’m too pretty to go to prison for manslaughter.”
He crooks his eyebrow, unimpressed.
I blow out the air from my cheeks. “I wanted your advice.”
“Talk to your lawyer. You can potentially slap him with a slander suit.”
And this is the part where I struggle. “You’re right, but at the end of the day, I would be the one losing. The opportunity was something that I wanted to do because it just made me tick. Not because Daddy dearest groomed me for it all my life. Not because it was expected from me. But it was something I could see myself enjoying.”
“Cal, it was your first opportunity to pop up after you left. There will be a gazillion more. There always are. If you like the concept, consider your negotiation with the fucker market research and invest in a similar project. One that will be your own. Beat him at his own game.”
“I don’t have enough available capital to pull that off. Besides, I don’t want to be a CEO. Too many fucking responsibilities in that job that I hate.”
Finn checks his watch. “Shit, I have a meeting now, but think about it and let’s talk again. And I’d be happy to invest in a company that would go into direct competition to Corm fucking Quinn.”
“Good to know.”
He stands up, but pauses. “How’s married life?”
God, I want to wipe that smirk off his face. “Fuck off, Finn.”
He laughs. “Just play it nice. If you hurt Celeste, Paris will cut your dick off. She’s very attached to her former dance teacher, and frankly, I’m attached to the moves she learned from her.”
“TMI, I don’t want to know about your wife’s moves. And rest assured, I can’t hurt Celeste. It’s a fake fucking marriage.”
But as I watch him leave, I wonder if that’s still true.
I wonder about it even more when, dejected by the lack of resolution for my problem this meeting gave me, I pull my phone out and call the one person who I instinctively know might not have a solution, but will give me some comfort.
Celeste shows up half an hour later, her beautiful figure clad in a pencil skirt and a blouse with a plunging neckline. She’s delicious.
“You got changed.” I kiss her cheeks when the club hostess leaves her at my table.
“I needed a shower after testing my new amazing dance studio.” She shimmies her shoulders, beaming, but then turns serious. “Don’t worry, I’m wearing the underwear you requested.” She takes a seat beside me and a shiver runs down my spine.
“Thank you for coming on a whim like this.” I take her hand, kissing her knuckles.
She smirks. “Don’t get used to it. I’m still buttered up after you changed an entire room for me.”
Fuck, I did change a room for her. Like she’s there to stay. I shake my head. Mia can practice there as well, after all.
Craning her neck, she scans the large members-only restaurant through the arched opening of our private dining area. “So this is where the most powerful men of Manhattan meet?”
I chuckle. “Some of them are the most powerful in the world.”
“Don’t say that, because you’ll have to get me an unlimited guest pass.”
“You can come anytime as my guest.” I run my hand up her back, enjoying the subtle shiver my touch elicits.
“Good. Imagine who I can meet here. I plan to marry up after our divorce.”
She’s teasing me, but the idea curls my fingers into fists. Oblivious to my reaction, she gasps. “Is that Andrea Cassinetti? ”
I turn in the direction of her gaze, and sure enough, the famous artist is glaring at the man across from him.
Celeste is all giddy beside me, like the fucker’s some kind of celebrity. Enough is enough.
“Eyes on me,” I growl.
She whips her head to me, and I expect her usual sass, but instead, her eyes shine with something I can’t quite name.
It’s raw. Primal. Full of heat.
Like my claim aroused her, but also surprised her. We stare at each other for a moment, the room fading into the background, my current problems turning frail, a distant vexation.
And then her face transforms into the brightest, warmest, most radiant smile, and it hits my chest with a spellbinding intensity.
She is irresistible with her cheeks flushed, the green in her eyes glimmering, and wearing the underwear I selected for her.
She hasn’t screamed my name yet, stubborn woman, but right now, in this moment, she feels like mine. And for the second time today, I wonder just how fake this marriage is.
The implication of that thought seems to fill the space between us, because Celeste blinks and recoils—it’s a brief change in her facade, but I notice.
And a part of me is grateful she broke the spell .
She squares her shoulders. “Is this a booty call, pretty boy?”
“Don’t give me ideas.” I glance at the room outside our little enclave. Private enough.
The server comes to take Celeste’s order, and I take the interruption to set my head straight.
Pulling my phone out, I find the Merged announcement and show it to Celeste. She scans the page, her eyes widening, and then she frowns.
“I didn’t know you signed the deal.”
“I didn’t.”
“But—” Quickly, the implications dawn on her. “Merde. What are you going to do?”
I shrug and grab a carafe to fill our glasses with water, just to do something. “Finn thinks I should sue him and take his concept to start a competing company.”
“Wouldn’t that be unethical?”
“It’s not like venture capital, mergers, and acquisitions are copyrighted concepts…” I take a sip of my water, wondering why I haven’t ordered something stronger.
“But you don’t want to do that, do you?”
“A part of me was settled on the idea. I was pushing for a bigger share, but I was almost ready to cave. But if I accept this under the current circumstances, it will taint anything I do there. I would basically be giving in to blackmail.”
It’s so much easier to let my thoughts run in front of Celeste than it was with Finn, which is refreshing but also weird.
Finn has always been my sounding board. Celeste, however, seems to slide into that role effortlessly.
“You didn’t like the guy to begin with, so after this move, can you imagine working with him?”
I sigh. “I’m not going to be someone else’s doormat.”
“Of course not.” She puts her hand on my thigh and my cock springs to attention. “I can only draw from my own field. Dancers often hate each other. The competition is fierce, the number of leading roles limited, and everyone is replaceable.
“Over the years, I’ve worked with people who would stab me with their high heel, but the minute we hit the stage, we all pull together for the common goal—to create an entertaining, lasting performance. You don’t need to like Cormac or trust him in general, but do you trust he’ll put the company and its success first?”
I’ve never thought about it, but I wouldn’t have discussed the partnership with him if I’d sensed he was there to fuck it all up.
In fact, him forcing my hand proves he wants to hit the ground running and lock down all the leads we have. And I want to close the deals I’ve been working on in the background.
“So you think being a doormat is justifiable for the greater benefit?” That part doesn’t sit well with me. Because business is one thing, but I can’t put my pride to one side.
“He blindsided you, but he played his hand and has no cards left.” A smile lingers on her face.
And it hits me. I really have been so blindsided and pissed about Corm’s betrayal that I didn’t think straight. How did I not see that? Fuck, she’s smart. And fuck if it doesn’t make her a hundred times more sexy.
I stand up, my chair balancing on its two back legs. “Let’s go.” I pull Celeste to standing and drag her across the busy restaurant.
She gasps, her heels clicking in a distorted rhythm as she tries to keep up. “What’s the rush? I wanted to meet Andrea Cassi—”
“Celeste,” I warn, and the wench laughs.
And the sound—however mocking—reverberates in my chest with an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, feeling.
But I don’t have time to dissect that.