Chapter 4
Alistair
It sat there.
That brown box.
Innocent-looking. Ordinary.
I should’ve left it in the hallway, but no—I brought it into my office because it had Callie Shaw’s name on it.
That alone had been enough to justify bending my own rules—just a little.
I lifted it again and gave it a shake. Not heavy. No strange sounds.
I told myself it was probably colour-coordinated stationery. Maybe pastel highlighters or novelty paper clips.
Something harmless. Something nerdy.
But it had me curious.
Too curious.
I stared at the packaging a second longer before opening my drawer and pulling out the box cutter.
Just a little peek.
From the bottom.
She’d never know.
No one would ever know.
I sliced the tape clean through.
Just a look to satisfy my curiosity. Or enough to confirm it was stationery—something harmless.
But as I lifted the flap, the contents stared back at me like a secret I was never meant to know.
Black, sleek with a hint of silver.
Shaped like the gear stick of a sports car.
Not a notebook.
Not pens.
Nothing innocent.
It was unmistakable.
A vibrator.
Expensive, judging by the finish. Then again, what did I know about women’s toys?
The box sat heavy in my hands, humming with implication. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Something twisted low in my gut, heat curling like smoke. The kind of heat I hadn’t felt in a long time. The kind I didn’t trust myself with.
We took in one another’s parcels from time to time, but I’d never opened one before.
I should’ve sealed it back up. I should’ve marched it to her door and handed it over like it meant nothing.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I sat there, staring at the thing she’d ordered to get herself off.
And every thought I’d buried since she first moved in—the stolen glances, the what-if fantasies, the scent of her shampoo lingering in the hallway—surged to the surface like they’d been waiting for an excuse.
And here it was.
Wrapped in matte black.
Her name on the label.
Callie Shaw.
I closed the box slowly. My hand tightened around it.
I didn’t like the thought of her coming on some vibrating piece of rubber.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
She was too young. Too full of life. Not jaded like me.
At twenty-one, she was fifteen years my junior. Too young.
I placed it back into the box—carefully—and scribbled down the brand and model on a spare Post-it. Just for research.
Once I’d sealed her dirty little secret back up with clear parcel tape, I sat back, staring at the thing like it might start vibrating right through the cardboard.
I wasn’t sure if I’d made matters better… or much, much worse.
Because now, every time I saw Callie Shaw, I’d picture her using it.
And I knew—knew—I’d hate the thought of anything but me between her thighs.
I groaned at the thought of tapping that fine ass.
The box should’ve stayed in the fucking hallway.
But instead of working, I sat there trying to figure out why she was different from the rest. Her room—what little I’d glimpsed of it through open doors—was always neat. Organised. Not like the chaos the others lived in. She was quiet and kept to herself.
Mature beyond her years in most ways.
But then she’d do something—nervous, unconscious.
Like pushing her glasses up her nose before looking away like I’d caught her doing something wrong.
That little flicker of discomfort… that urge to hide.
Hm. I wouldn’t mind teaching her a thing or two.
My eyes drifted back to the box.
Mocking me.
I glared at it, jaw tight.
It shouldn’t have bothered me this much.
But the thought of her—soft, flushed, needing—not because of me, but some buzzing piece of overpriced silicone—
My fingers curled.
?? ?? ??
The doorbell chimed, and I glanced at my phone.
Callie.
I stepped closer to the monitor and narrowed my eyes.
Purple. She’d dyed the tips of her hair purple.
Interesting choice.
It suited her more than it should’ve. Made her stand out. Not that she didn’t already—walking around like the world was too loud for her, all nervous glances and twitchy fingers.
Would my competition jump from silicone to human?
I let out a short breath of a laugh.
Not yet. I straightened my shirt and stood.
I placed the box on the slim side table.
Let’s see what she had to say for herself.