Chapter 5
FIVE
CALLUM
CALLUM
I just sent through details for an upcoming trip I need to take with two employees. Let me know when the arrangements are ready for me to review.
DEENA
I got it. Before I start working on this, you should know that my fee has doubled.
CALLUM
Why?
DEENA
Because you annoy me and I’m trying to make you go away.
I huffed where I sat in my bed, rereading her message as my fingers hovered over the screen.
Night blanketed the city, and I’d left my curtains open so I could look out over the glittering lights of the buildings and the dark, inky water beyond.
I hadn’t seen Deena in a little over a week—not since she’d blushed so prettily in my office.
I missed her, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t her I missed, obviously.
It was the feeling she gave me, that thrill of chasing and needing and wanting.
Leaning against my headboard, I typed.
CALLUM
Charge what you want, Deena.
Seconds stretched into minutes, and I picked up my phone half a dozen times before finally snorting at myself. I was acting like a fool. She was doing a job for me. Nothing more.
But I still snatched the device up from the nightstand when it buzzed.
DEENA
Provisional itinerary sent along with my invoice. Due on receipt.
Sure enough, an email was waiting for me with two attachments. I reviewed them and paid her invoice. Then I picked up my phone again.
CALLUM
Work for me.
This time, her reply was nearly instantaneous.
DEENA
No.
CALLUM
Why?
DEENA
Scroll up a couple of messages if you need a refresher.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. No one else spoke to me like this.
No one resisted the way she did. And I couldn’t help thinking she was being illogical.
I’d pay her whatever she wanted. She was good at what she did, and I respected that.
Taking on the role of my executive assistant would be a walk in the park for a woman like her.
I could deal with the attitude if it meant never having a missed connection for an important business trip.
That’s not the only reason you want her, my consciousness whispered, but I didn’t listen. I ignored the throbbing low in my gut at the memory of her voice and the twitch that moved my fingers when I thought about picking up the phone to call her.
I put my phone away, but sleep was a long time coming.
Dawn broke over the horizon without fanfare, finding me already sitting at the desk in my home office, finishing my second cup of coffee.
I’d rewritten half my team’s emails for upcoming proposals and double-checked every calendar entry my new temp assistant had organized for the week.
The words “terminal micromanagement syndrome” floated through my head, spoken in a smoky, teasing voice that I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about ever since I first heard it.
Deena infuriated me. The way she took charge of situations made me deeply uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to giving up control, especially in my own company.
And yet I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
“Uncle Cal?”
I glanced up to see a small head peeking around the side of the doorway, blond hair tied in two French braids with blue bows holding the ends together.
Pushing back from my desk, I brushed aside the twist of anxiety that never failed to appear when my five-year-old niece was around.
She was so small and vulnerable, and I was…
me. I wasn’t qualified to look after her, even for a moment. “What’s up, Lila?”
“Mommy said I could have pancakes this morning.”
“Pancakes are for special occasions.” I stood and circled my desk.
“She said you’d say that and to tell you every day is special.”
That was a gut punch if I’d ever heard one, and my sister Erica knew it. I huffed, tugging the end of one of her braids before scooping her up into my arms. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s see if we have what we need.”
“Yay!” She wrapped her legs around my waist and leaned her head on my shoulder, tapping her fingers on my biceps as I walked.
A moment later, one of the three nannies I’d hired when Erica and Lila came to stay with me rushed around the corner. She crashed to a stop, her eyes wide. “Mr. Frost, I’m so sorry. I turned my back for a second—”
“Don’t worry about it, Mary,” I said. “I’ve got her.”
The nanny nodded and stepped aside as I walked by. We went down the stairs and along the hallway toward the kitchen before Lila said, “Mommy said you make the best pancakes.”
“Your mommy said a lot of things this morning.” I entered the penthouse’s kitchen and arched my brows at Erica, who sat on one of the barstools lining the near side of the island.
She smiled at me, angelic. My sister’s fingers touched the edge of her head scarf, a nervous tic that had shown up as soon as the chemotherapy started taking her hair.
“She likes a lot of chocolate chips in hers. And I know you’ve got the real maple syrup in the cupboard, so we’ll have some of that too. ”
“Sir?” My chef, Xavier, stepped out of the butler’s pantry, a reusable grocery bag folded under his arm. “Would you like me to get the pancakes started?”
“I’ll make them,” I said.
He nodded and ducked out of the room, and I opened the pantry to grab the flour and baking powder. I glanced over my shoulder at Erica, who arched a brow, and I turned back around to get the chocolate chips.
“She needs more than carbs and sugar, Erica. She needs nutrients. So do you.”
“If you make me another one of your green smoothies, I’ll dump it over your head.”
Huffing at the flat look she gave me, I relented, knowing her treatment made everything taste wrong.
Lila clambered up onto one of the barstools, and I circled the island to set up next to her.
From the fridge, I grabbed milk and eggs.
“Crack these in here,” I said, gesturing to the eggs and the bowl.
Lila’s tongue stuck out at the corner as she did what I asked, dropping half the shell in with her first egg and a few shards with the second.
“Oops,” she said.
“No problem,” I said, and fished out the shell pieces before measuring out the flour and baking soda. I asked Lila to dump them in a second bowl while I whisked the eggs.
I met my sister’s gaze over the top of my niece’s head. “I read the oncologist’s report this morning. I’m not satisfied with the way he’s handling your care. I’m going to get a second opinion from—”
“Cal,” my sister interrupted. “Let’s just have some pancakes this morning. Please?” She glanced at Lila, who was flinging flour halfway across the kitchen in an attempt to stir the baking soda in. My eyelid twitched at the mess, but I could clean that up when we were done.
“Fine,” I said. “Here, kiddo. Mix this in.”
Lila beamed up at me, and my hard heart softened.
The three of us ate pancakes at the kitchen island, and then Mary came to take Lila to preschool. I’d signed her up for a no-tech Montessori school as soon as the two of them came to stay, and I was sure it was the best care Lila could get under the circumstances, but—
“You have that look on your face like you’re spiraling,” my sister said.
I blinked and met her gaze. “I don’t spiral.”
“Uh-huh.”
Clicking my tongue, I said, “I was just thinking about the preschool Lila’s going to.”
“It’s perfect. She loves it. She’s made friends.”
“Their educational targets seem a little lax, and—what are you doing?”
Erica slid off her chair, letting out a now-familiar groan that told me her body was all aches and pains. She shuffled over to where I stood in front of the sink and put her hands on my cheeks. “You know I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for us, right?”
I frowned. “You’re my sister. What was I supposed to do, turn you away? You know you’re welcome here anytime.”
She smiled sadly. “If anything happens to me—”
“I don’t want to hear this,” I said, pulling away. “Your bloodwork is stable. People beat breast cancer every day.”
“If anything happens to me,” Erica repeated more forcefully, “I want you to take care of Lila.”
I froze, a lump jamming itself halfway down my throat. “Erica—”
“Cal, there’s no one else.”
“Trevor—”
“Her father walked out when I got my diagnosis, and he hasn’t shown any interest in stepping up since then. We weren’t married, and he won’t fight you for custody. He might try to squeeze you for some cash, but you’ve got plenty of that. I want you to take care of her when I’m gone.”
The metal bowl with smears of half-dried pancake batter clattered against the sink when I dropped it. “You’re not fucking dying, Erica. I won’t let that happen.” It horrified me when my voice trembled, and I knew Erica noticed.
“You can’t control everything, Cal.”
“I’m getting that second opinion.”
She huffed. “Fine. What’s a few more needles jammed into my arms?”
I went back to washing the dishes. My head housekeeper had passed by the doorway twice already, and I knew she was annoyed I was doing this, but I couldn’t stand still while my sister spouted that kind of bullshit.
I scrubbed until the stainless steel of the bowl gleamed, then tossed it onto the counter where it dripped in growing puddles.
“Of course I’ll take care of her,” I finally replied. “The two of you are the only family I’ve got left.”
Erica’s hand landed between my shoulder blades. “Thank you. My lawyer’s drawing up my will—stop looking at me like that, Cal. It’s just a precaution. I’m still fighting this and I intend to win.”
“That’s the first thing you’ve said this morning that makes any kind of sense.”
“Mommy! Mary said we have to go so I’m not late for school.
” We both turned toward the kitchen entrance as Lila came sprinting toward us.
Erica braced herself for a full-speed hug while I winced.
My sister smiled and kissed her daughter on the head.
Lila gave me a quick hug, and a familiar pit of anxiety opened up in my gut.
If the worst did happen…would I be able to take care of Lila? That kind of responsibility made me feel sick. She was so little. So vulnerable. She reminded me so much of—
No. I wasn’t thinking about that. Not this morning.
“I’m going back to bed,” Erica said as soon as Lila was gone. Her shoulders slumped, and the toll the treatment and the cancer had taken on her was written in every exhausted line of her body.
“Eat something before I get back from work tonight,” I commanded. “You just pushed your pancakes around the plate. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
She smiled. “Love ya, Cal.”
“Try to choose something with at least one vitamin in it,” I grumbled.
My sister chuckled, but it was far from the bright, gut-busting laughter that used to come out of her before she got sick.
She was worried she’d die. I was worried she’d die.
If she did…I’d be responsible for that little girl.
Her life, her safety, her future—it would all rest on my shoulders.
I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t worthy, wasn’t good enough.
I’d already failed once, and I wouldn’t give myself the chance to fail again.
If it came to the worst, I’d go against Erica’s wishes and find a more suitable guardian for Lila.
Except I wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Who else would make sure she was taken care of? Who else would do it right?
I went to work with my head full of messy, ugly thoughts.
All day I felt jittery, on edge, and agitated.
I barked at my staff and torched a relationship with a potential client, but no matter how much of an ass I was, it didn’t fix the way I felt.
By the time the sun went down, my frustration with myself reached a peak.
There was only one person who would give me what I needed, who could scratch the incessant itch inside me that begged me for a fight. I picked up my phone and found Deena’s number.