Chapter 13
Cal
‘So.’ Gen narrows her eyes at me across the large glass coffee table. ‘How did last night go?’
I plaster on my signature cocky grin. ‘Piece of cake.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah. We’re full steam ahead,’ I tell her, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and allowing myself a sip of my Americano while I enjoy the look of surprise on her face.
I could tell after our meeting with Aida that Gen was concerned. Concerned we wouldn’t hit it off. That I wouldn’t be able to thaw Aida out. Well, she has absolutely nothing to worry about on that front.
I should know.
The others are watching me, hoping for a juicy tidbit to spice up our morning meeting, no doubt. They won’t get it from me.
‘Well?’ Rafe demands. ‘Spill.’
He’s a bossy bastard. He should know that shit doesn’t work with me.
‘Nothing to tell,’ I lie smoothly. ‘We had a few drinks and a good chat, and that’s that.
We ironed out some details, brainstormed a few ideas.
She’s going to get cracking on the format for the original interviews with Simone Salem, so I’m assuming we’ll hear from her when they’ve banged out a strategy. ’
Simone Salem, another household name, is Aida’s colleague from the BBC and, apparently, her best mate. She’ll be in charge of interviewing Aida for the show, though Aida will interview most of the experts they bring on.
‘So nothing happened.’ He’s like a dog with a bone.
‘Nothing happened.’ I produce my trump card. ‘I came here afterwards, for fuck’s sake. Check the logs if you don’t believe me.’
These guys don’t need to know that the reason I shot over here like a scalded cat after putting Ms Russell—or is it still Lady Russell?—in a cab was precisely because something happened.
She happened.
Sucking her scarlet lower lip into my mouth.
Burrowing under that glossy, dark swing of hair to the sleek neck below.
The slippery heat of her under my fingers. Around my fingers.
Her little mewl of surprise against my mouth when she reached her violent, shuddering climax.
Sharp nails digging into my shoulder like spurs against the flanks of her favourite racehorse, driving him on towards the finish line.
The memories accost me—a glorious carousel of images that sear into my consciousness, despite my desperate rampage at Alchemy afterwards.
So fucking responsive.
She was a little beauty.
My evil plan for our ‘date’ may have included the intention of creating some ice-breaking mischief if I saw an opening, but even I didn’t see that one coming: Aida Russell hurtling towards orgasm in my arms as I finger-fucked her in the depths of a club.
I have an Aida-shaped hangover this morning. I was tickled, for want of a better word, when Gen pitched this documentary to me. Tickled. Intrigued. In my head, she wasn’t a real person. More a celebrity trophy to smash and grab, if I’m completely honest with myself.
But she’s fucking real, all right. My formless, harmless schoolboy-level crush on her is taking shape.
It’s growing substance, a little kernel of desire building inside me.
Because we’d be good together. We are good together, even if our antics were positively chaste as far as my standards go.
For a hookup where I didn’t even get off, its memories have teeth.
Teeth far sharper than the memories of the women inside whose bodies I got my end away afterwards.
I certainly delivered a killer audition. I suspect I did her a favour last night by blindsiding her into third base before she had time to get nervous.
But it didn’t feel like a favour.
Nope.
Her sharp intake of breath as I slid my lips along her jaw and an ice cube up her leg?
That was nothing short of typical Callum-Sinclair-level self-indulgence.
* * *
‘I need to chat to Cal about the Masked Ball,’ Maddy announces as our morning meeting draws to an anticlimactic close. She gets up from her cosy spot beside Zach, where she’s been surreptitiously holding his hand for the past twenty minutes, and plumps herself down next to me.
My mate shoots me a suspicious look before Maddy blows him a kiss.
‘Put the kettle on, babes? I’ll be through in five,’ she tells him, which seems to pacify him somewhat, and he trails forlornly towards the open double doors that separate this meeting room from our desk area at the rear of the fuck-off Georgian mansion that houses Alchemy.
His black lab, Norm, looks at his master and then back at Maddy before plodding towards us and dropping at her feet.
Poor bastard.
Zach, not Norm.
I adore the relationship I have with Mads.
I’m pretty sure she adores it too. The only person who doesn’t adore it is Zach, because I may have fucked her in the club after a particularly hot Unfurl session with Rafe and his now-girlfriend, Belle (who, incidentally, was the mystery virgin in last night’s little bedtime story).
Yeah.
Told you the women I fool around with end up with my mates.
Anyway, that time with Mads was a one-off, and it happened way before my grieving, walled-up best friend was ready to admit to himself or anyone else that he had feelings for her.
Boy, did those feelings turn out to be big ones.
I’m also pretty sure that ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time Zach knows he’s won the lottery with her and is equally confident of her love for him. You only have to look at the two of them together to see her adoration. The girl’s in deep.
But it’s sweet that he feels so possessive of her, and no wonder. She is, objectively speaking, a knockout, especially in today’s combo of killer heels and a clingy black dress that leaves little to the imagination.
My mate’s a lucky man these days, and, God knows, no one deserves luck more than him. Together, he and Maddy are the most farfetched, and yet perfect, combination I can imagine.
Maddy’s best asset, though, is her dazzling smile and cheery personality.
No wonder she coaxed the grief-stricken shell that was my friend back to life, and for that we’ll always be grateful.
She may have been a fantastic fuck—she’s one of the most sexually liberated women I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something—but these days we have a brother-sister relationship, and it really, really works.
She twists her body towards me, one elbow propped up on the back of the sofa so she can cradle her face in her hand and the other dangling by her side, a welcome licky-toy for Norm’s enormous tongue.
‘So,’ she says as soon as Rafe’s pulled the doors closed behind him. ‘Shoot.’ She wiggles her eyebrows, and I can’t help but laugh.
‘Shoot what?’ I ask her, though I know what she’s angling at.
‘Tell me. Aida. What’s she like?’ She sighs. ‘Is she as sexy as she looks on TV?’
‘Definitely sexier,’ I say.
Scarlet mouth.
Hard nipples.
Long nails.
Jesus.
‘I knew it.’ Her glossy pink mouth curves into a self-satisfied smile.
‘That she was sexier in real life?’
‘That something happened.’
‘Nothing happened.’
She tuts. ‘Cal.’
‘Mads.’
‘We can go through the motions for the rest of the day, or you can just dish the dirt. We both know I’ll win.’
I sigh. Maddy’s particular blend of cheeriness and relentless persistence is fucking lethal, and we both know it. But she knows when to be discreet, and I trust her with my confidences.
‘Okay, okay.’ I let my head fall back against the sofa, lolling it to one side so I can see her. ‘I may have given her a sneak preview.’
She does a little full-body shimmy. ‘I knew it! She got a dick preview.’
‘No,’ I correct her, deciding not to mention that I made Aida feel my boner. ‘No dick. It was all about her.’
Maddy purses her lips. ‘Impressive.’
‘I aim to please.’
‘And did you? Please her?’
I scoff. ‘Come on. Course I did.’ Dirty-lite, right? A bit of audio porn in her ear. An ice cube against her cunt. Easy peasy.
‘Where’d you do the deed?’
I shift self-consciously, though Mads is the least judgemental person I know. ‘Under the tablecloth in a booth at the Zebra Club.’
She spits out a gratified laugh. ‘Good work. Lucky Aida. So it’s all systems go after your little—what are we calling it—elevator pitch?’
‘Nice. And yeah. I feel good about it, actually.’ I roll my shoulders back and stare at the ceiling. I feel really fucking good about it.
‘Do you like her?’ Maddy persists. She may be a sex-positive goddess, but she’s also a hopeless romantic, God bless her.
‘She’s hot as fuck and impressive as shit,’ I say. ‘What’s not to like?’
‘Hmm. Interesting.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Nothing. Just… interesting.’
‘She’s far too smart for me, so don’t get any ideas about us,’ I warn her.
‘Nobody buys that act for a second, Cal, so don’t even try,’ she says.
‘I know you think it’s not cool to show your nerdy side, but you’re wrong.
And you made a career for yourself trading weird stuff with scary, mysterious acronyms, so don’t give me that my brains are in my biceps bullshit.
I bet you and Aida will have a lot more in common than just chemistry. ’
‘You’re a pain in the arse, you know that?’ I tell her. I aim for a weary tone, but it comes out affectionate. Dammit.
‘I know.’ She pats the palm that’s resting on my thigh. Her hand is that particular kind of moistly sticky that can only come from Labrador saliva.
I jerk my head up. ‘Fuck—that’s revolting.’
‘Don’t hurt his feelings.’
‘Get out of here. Go deal with Zach’s abandonment issues.’
She sighs. ‘This conversation isn’t over. I’ll be watching you two with a lot of interest.’
‘You and the rest of the country,’ I say with a groan.
‘Come on, Norm.’ She stands. ‘Let’s go find Daddy.’
‘For fuck’s—’
‘He’s Norm’s daddy. Not mine. I don’t call him that. Well, only—’
I put my hands over my ears in defeat and cut her off before she can violate my brain any further. ‘I don’t want to know.’