Chapter Four Callum
“You look like you just stumbled out of bed,” I remark, eyeing Liam’s wrinkled shirt and unshaved face. Wavy black hair falls over his forehead in disarray, a five-o’clock shadow covering his usually clean-shaven face. His lack of presentation clearly not affecting his confidence, he smirks at me.
“Oh, I did just roll out of bed. It just wasn’t mine.
” His dark eyebrows jump cockily. “It was a long night, I didn’t get much sleep.
” Liam Caldwell spreads his arms along the back of the sofa, long legs stretched out in front of him.
He looks like the cat after eating the canary.
His toothy grin begs me to ask for more details like a high school gossip, but I don’t have time to hear about his sexcapades at the moment.
“I hope you washed your hands. I don’t want your STDs getting on my couch.”
“What’s got your panties in a twist? Does it have something to do with Blondie out there?
” Liam asks, nodding his head towards the door that separates my office from where Lexie sits in the living room.
She can’t hear us. Soundproofing each of the rooms in my apartment was one of my top priorities when I moved in. I take my privacy seriously.
“Tony decided to test my patience and made a switch.” The bastard thought he was so clever, sending Lexie in here like I wouldn’t notice. She’d rounded the kitchen corner like the curvy, blonde complication she is.
I should’ve known when I walked in to find the steak sizzling on the stove that Tony wasn’t the one living here.
He can’t cook for shit. He doesn’t even try, instead leaving mountains of takeout containers to pile up by the trash.
Drives me fucking insane, my place always smelled like day-old Kung Pao chicken when I got back into town. But Lexie’s steak was cooked perfectly.
“He thinks that—what—dangling a juicy blonde in front of you will keep you from caring?” Liam tsks in disappointment. “I never figured he was that big of a fucking idiot to run out on a contract. Especially with you.”
“He didn’t. Technically.” My grip tightens on the desk as frustration builds inside me.
Tony is a coward for it, but he’s not stupid.
He knew what he was doing when he set Lexie up in his place.
“There’s an exigent circumstance clause in his contract that allows him to void the deal if he finds a suitable replacement who agrees to take over his position. ”
“Blondie agreed to work for you?” Liam asks.
“Lexie,” I correct. “Lexie signed the agreement to take over Tony’s placement as the house sitter.” I created the house-sitting position as a front, a ploy for tax and payment purposes. “By legal definitions, he didn’t break the contract.”
Lexie is definitely a suitable replacement for watching my penthouse while I’m away.
The house plants that now line the windows in sun-dappled greenery, and the spa-scented candles that are always burning, make that clear.
She’s turned this place into a home in a little over two weeks—something I haven’t done in two years.
It aligns with the contractual agreement exactly.
And like the slimy snake he is, Tony slithered right through the tiny loophole.
“You don’t go by legal definitions,” Liam points out with a sarcastic laugh. He’s right, I don’t. I look at the details of every situation, identifying each one by weight of importance and consequence. If I feel cheated, no law will stop me. I’m meticulous.
“No, I don’t. But Tony got away clean, even by my definitions.
” Tony’s ability to wriggle himself loose from my legal bonds was unexpected.
I’ll never admit it, but it is slightly impressive.
As twisted as it is, I almost respect Tony for his ability to screw me over in his act of self-interest. It’s the only thing keeping him safe from my temper.
“So what does that mean for us? We’re out a medic on payroll.” Liam has a point, fueling my agitation. This isn’t part of the plan, which is unacceptable. I never allow loose ends. I need to find a skilled medical professional that I can shackle with a contract and gag with an NDA.
“Lexie is a nurse. That’s where Tony found her, at New York Presbyterian.
” I’ve already considered my options, and she has potential.
There’s just no telling how she would work out.
The type of medical care that comes with my line of work isn’t pretty and usually comes with a certain level of violence.
The pretty pink nurse on the couch in my living room isn’t what I’d call an ideal candidate.
“You really think Blondie is someone who wants to work for you?” Liam asks skeptically. “Or better yet, could you even work with her? She’s in there watching reality tv, drinking a Mountain Dew, painting her toenails sparkly pink.”
“It’s not ideal, but it’s an option. She’s a nurse who worked in the ER of the best hospital in the city.
But there’s no way of knowing if our pretty pink nurse has the level of skill I need,” I muse.
Testing her seems riskier than it’s worth; there’s no telling what would happen when she’s put under that type of pressure.
The memory of our introduction comes to mind.
She’d been a deer in headlights when she rounded that corner and found me standing in my kitchen.
She hadn’t freaked out, screamed, or cried.
Her instincts were to threaten me with the authorities, even when she had no way of contacting anyone.
Her bravado was almost amusing when she ordered me to leave—even though I clearly had the upper hand in the situation.
She’d handled herself calmly, blinking up at me while she processed everything before responding. Then she demanded to see my ID.
The thought of how she criticized my license photo makes my lips twitch with amusement. She’s a grown woman who’s easily distracted by sparkly objects and drinks like a college student, but something in my gut tells me there’s more to Lexie than the shiny exterior she flounces around with.
“So what’s this new problem that got you back into the city?” Liam changes the subject, leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs. I sit back in my chair and smooth my hand over my beard.
“I don’t know yet, Senator Harris was tight-lipped on the phone and insisted we meet in person. He’ll be here in an hour, I’ll have more information then.”
“Do you want me to stick around for the meeting? Or am I just here for you to look at my pretty face for a while—though I have to say, you’re no longer lacking in that department with your girl out there.
” Liam and I don’t have a lot of things in common, our personalities are almost in complete opposition to each other.
His habit of blurting out exactly what he’s thinking and wearing his emotions on his face like an accessory goes against my every instinct for discretion and practiced control.
He’s always found pleasure in women with more to their figure than skin and bones, one of the few things we do have in common.
I’m not surprised Lexie’s caught his eye, even if it’s not something he plans to act on.
He knows I won’t allow it anyway. Letting Liam manwhore with people who work for me in any capacity has always been off-limits. Lexie’s no exception.
“Your face doesn’t even compete,” I say, reaching into my desk drawer for the large manila envelope.
“I need you to take these contracts to Ash Wilton’s residence; it’s a brownstone on fifth avenue.
He’s waiting there with his security. Have him sign both copies, then deliver the one in the red file directly to Jeffrey Lindstein at the Black-Moore club uptown. ”
“Ash Wilton, as in the hedge fund manager? Signing a confidential contract with Lindstein, the president of American Capital Bank? Sound the stock-market alarms.”
“You’re lucky you’re better at keeping your mouth closed than keeping it in your pants, Caldwell,” I deadpan, earning a grin as he feigns a wounded expression.
“Ouch, slut shaming is hurtful.” He stands, raking a hand through his tousled hair vainly before taking the contracts.
Jokes aside, I know I can trust Liam with even the most confidential information.
He’s an ass about it, but he’s been nothing but loyal.
Not to mention he’s the best wheelman in the country, which comes in handy in my line of work.
Opening the envelope, he thumbs through the files to familiarize himself with the contents. There’s no need to double-check what I give him, he knows that, but he does anyway. It’s one of the reasons I hired him in the first place.
Following him out of my office, we step out right as Lexie is ending a phone call over at the kitchen island. The room smells faintly like nail polish, and I can see her toenails are now pink as she swings her feet absently from her perch on the stool.
“Bye, babe,” Lexie says, hanging up the phone as Liam and I walk out of my office. She turns to catch me staring, my gaze remaining steady on her as I observe and consider.
“You’re dating someone?” I ask. If she’s in a relationship, that might affect my business. Liam strolls over to the coffeemaker and helps himself to a cup, chugging it black like a frat boy at a kegger.
“Oh, no I’m single,” she replies, tucking a tendril of blonde hair behind her ear. “I was talking to my best friend, Mia.”
“You call your friend babe?” My tone is skeptical with an edge of challenge.
“What, you don’t use terms of endearment with your friends?” she asks, her brows raising with a teasing smile. Liam turns to face us, leaning against the counter as he waits for the caffeine to counter the hangover he’s fighting.
“No,” I reply flatly. Liam’s shit-eating grin spells trouble.
“Of course we do,” Liam jumps in. “Right, bestie?”
My glare is withering.
“Fuck off.” My growl only makes his grin grow.
“You have such a way with words.” Seeing the urge to shoot him cross my mind, Liam holds up his hands in surrender. “As much as I’d love to stick around for this brotherly bonding, I’m leaving while I can still walk out on my own.”
“Good idea,” I state, watching him pick up the envelope of contracts from the counter.
“It was nice meeting you, Lexie. Don’t let grumpy Cal here run you off.” He shoots her a wink that makes my trigger finger twitch. Lexie’s laugh is light and easy, a cheerful response that seems to be her natural reaction to most things.
“I’m not run off that easily,” she assures him, turning her dazzling smile on me. Her attention radiates warmth and light, and I like being caught in those rays.
Liam downs one last gulp of coffee before taking a few steps backwards towards the front door.
“Alright, I’m gone. These papers aren’t going to sign themselves.
” He lifts his hand to salute me with the envelope, flashing Lexie his best playboy smile, before turning to leave.
The sound of the front door closing punctuates his exit and Lexie turns to gaze at me.
The look on her expressive face is a mix of curiosity and humor—like we’re in on a private joke together.
“What’s that look for?” I should be irritated that she’s practically laughing at me, but I’m tempted to smile with her instead.
“Oh, nothing,” she teases. “You just have interesting friends, that’s all.”
“If you’re hoping to get Liam’s number, the answer’s no,” I inform her. “I don’t let the people who work for me get involved with each other.”
“Why not?” She seems genuinely curious, but her question doesn’t confirm or deny my suspicions.
“It’s not good for my business when things get messy. And getting involved with Liam is always messy.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she comments thoughtfully, her head tilting to one side as she regards me. “That’s fine though, he’s not my type. I don’t date anyone prettier than me.”
The idea that Liam is more attractive than Lexie in any way is laughable. But there’s no need to correct her. From what I’ve seen, Lexie is very comfortable in her generously voluptuous body.
As she should be.
“I have another meeting coming in half an hour.” I change the subject before I decide to ask her what her type is. Walking over to the fridge, I pull out a chilled bottle of water.
“I’m leaving to get my nails done, so you’ll have the place to yourself for the next few hours,” she assures me. Leaning my shoulder against the fridge, my eyes move down to her freshly painted toes.
“You just did your nails. Or do you just like the fumes?”
“I’m going to get a manicure,” she says, wiggling her unpolished fingers at me. “So I had to paint my toes or else the nail techs will judge me for having crusty feet.” Her tone while explaining the impractical logic makes it sound like the most reasonable thing in the world. I don’t argue.
Lexie hops down from the stool, smoothing her pretty little dress over dangerous curves, and slips on a pair of sandals.
When she steps around me to grab her purse from the counter, I’m surrounded by a delicious scent.
It’s light and citrus, and smells like heaven.
Like a moth to a flame, I’m stepping closer.
She smells really fucking good.
Oblivious to the magnetism pulling me towards her, Lexie chirps a goodbye to me before heading out the door. My eyes don’t leave her until she’s out the front door, silently thanking whoever invented short pink sundresses.
My next meeting is due to arrive in less than twenty minutes, which gives me time to change. Normally I don’t care to style myself for my clientele, but working with political figures comes with a certain dress code. And right now I’m not dressed the part.
Stepping into my closet, I’m greeted by black and white.
Black pants, suit coats, dress shirts, shoes, socks.
A small section holds the crisp white button-downs in stark contrast to the rest of my wardrobe.
Black and white, the only colors I wear—save a stray pair of charcoal-gray lounge pants or workout shorts.
White is clear, unforgiving. It shows every flaw, every element that touches it—and in some cases what resides beneath it. White is disarming honesty, authority. It’s a weapon I carry when it suits me.
Black is the opposite side of the same coin. Black keeps your secrets, sharing nothing but silence. The sharp darkness easily swallows the evidence of your wrongdoings—disguising your weaknesses, hiding your intentions. Taking over all other colors, black is domination and control.
Stripping off the black dress shirt, I replace it with a crisp white one, buttoning the front and the cuffs to hide my tattoos.
If you look closely enough, you can see the dark ink on my skin through the light material.
The only people who can get close enough to notice already know who I am.
Everyone else gets to see who I show them.