Chapter 11
ELEVEN
DEENA
I pulled Callum into the billiard room just across from the main event space, shoving him inside before closing the door. He watched me with that same amused, mocking look in his eyes, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
A mouth he’d used to kiss me. A kiss that had been so much better than I’d imagined.
My body still flushed hot, I marched to the edge of the room to stare at the billiard cues on the wall. “You have three minutes to tell me what you’re doing here, Callum.”
“And then what?”
“And then I call security.”
“That’ll be hard to explain, considering what you told everyone about me a few minutes ago. ‘Swept you off your feet,’ was it?”
My jaw ached from clenching it so hard. I hated that he was right. I either had to let him play the doting boyfriend or make a gigantic fool of myself at my parents’ party.
Even worse—now it felt like I owed him.
Glaring over my shoulder, I hissed at him through clenched teeth: “Talk. Now.”
“I told you already. I missed you.”
My stomach bottomed out, because he didn’t really, did he? Unless—but the look on his face made me pause. He leaned against the billiards table, grabbing one of the red balls to toss it up and down with his hand. His lips were set in a faint grimace that belied his relaxed pose.
A man of contradictions.
Finally, his eyes flicked up to meet mine, and he admitted, “I need your help with some travel plans. But you blocked me before I could ask.”
Disappointment crashed into me, and I turned back to stare at the cues to hide it. He wasn’t here for me. Why would I think he was here for me? Why would I think that kiss had anything to do with…with…
“And I wanted to see you,” he added.
The world tilted sharply to the side. He could tell what his words did to me, and he was toying with me. I was sure of it. With my arms crossed tight against my chest, the bedazzled bodice scraped against my skin. Annoyance shot through me. At the dress. At my family. At him.
I’d capitulated with my mother and worn the dress and the heels. I’d folded so quickly with my family, setting aside my desires and my values just for the sake of keeping the peace. I’d made myself smaller, contorted myself to fit into their box, at least temporarily.
I would not contort with Callum.
I faced him, narrowing my eyes. “What do you want, Callum?”
“Cal,” he corrected softly, eyes of crushed ice steady as they watched me. “Call me Cal.”
“What do you want?” I asked, ignoring the way his gaze sent heat spiraling through me.
He answered my question with a question: “What will it take for you to be my executive assistant?”
“A traumatic brain injury. Next question.”
“Six months, Deena.”
“Stop saying my name like that.”
He blinked, slow and satisfied. His lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Like what?”
He’d backed me into a conversational corner, and he knew it. But he would have to waterboard me to get me to admit that when he said my name, it set off a tiny detonation between my legs. I wasn’t thinking straight. I was never thinking straight when he was around.
“I’m not going to work for you,” I said to save myself having to answer his question.
His tongue slid out to lick his lips, and I fought not to squirm where I stood. I hated what his presence did to me. I hated that I’d given in to temptation on the phone, and now I wasn’t sure where I stood with him. What I wanted with him.
Besides the obvious, of course.
“Okay, I’ll cut you a deal,” he said, setting the red ball down as he pushed off the billiards table.
He prowled closer, and my heart took off.
He was dressed impeccably, his hair in perfect disarray, his strong jaw clean-shaven.
I’d never seen a more attractive man, and I resented him for it.
“I’ll stop asking you to work for me if you kiss me again. ”
A shocked laugh fell from my lips. “You kissed me, Cal.”
A devilish smile made his eyes light up. “You kissed me back.” He stopped when he was only a few inches away, and I was forced to tilt my head to meet his gaze. A gaze that dropped to my lips for a lingering moment, then slid lower. “I wasn’t lying earlier,” he said quietly. “I like the dress.”
Pleasure squirmed through me. I loved when he complimented me, but I would never admit it. I set my jaw. “I don’t care what you like or don’t like.”
His finger reached out to trace the strap on my shoulder, following the curve down to where my breasts were spilling out of the top. I shivered as he touched the fabric, the edge of his fingertip brushing my chest, but he didn’t stop. “Why won’t you work for me?”
My knees had gone wobbly, and it was becoming difficult to stand. “Because of this right here,” I whispered.
“This has got nothing to do with that.”
I snorted, and his finger continued its journey across to my other breast and up the opposite strap.
His touch was feathery and light, but it sent jagged bolts of lightning down to my center.
When he dropped his hand to his side, I had to work to hide my disappointment. Some of the fog in my head cleared.
He watched me with those all-seeing eyes. Reading every heartbeat thrumming in my throat. Watching every emotion flit across my face. He was playing with me, turning me on so I’d do anything he asked. The proof was right there in his next words: “Come on, Deena.”
“Why do you want me to work for you so badly? Hire someone else.”
A shadow crossed his gaze. He hesitated for a moment, then said, “There have been a lot of close calls with deals lately. Our travel plans keep getting in the way, and my team isn’t able to keep up.”
“And still no assistant.”
He gave me a flat look. “No.”
“Shocker.”
“You could do it.”
“You expect me to give up my business just to place myself under your thumb?” I laughed incredulously. “I know you’re a rich man who probably waves a hand and gets what he wants, but come on. Get real.”
“Miranda was the best I’ve hired in a while, but she’s not answering my calls.”
“That’s not as surprising as you might think.”
He sighed, one hand lifting to run through his hair. “I know I’m a hard guy to work for, okay? And I might have some micromanaging tendencies, but—”
“You’re asking too much from an assistant, Cal.”
He frowned at me.
I spread my palms. “From what I’ve seen from working with you, you need a dedicated travel coordinator.
Not an assistant. Not an administrator who also has seventeen million other tasks.
The needs of your business, travel-wise, are way too onerous to be anything other than someone’s full-time job.
” I forced myself to look away from him and glared at the green felt on the billiards table over his shoulder.
“But what do I know? It’s only my bread and butter. ”
“And you’re the best at it,” he said. “That’s why I want you on my team.”
My throat grew tight, and I forced myself not to glow at his praise. My eyes remained on the table, but the tips of my fingers trembled.
He knew how to push my buttons. All my buttons.
I’d grown up being shoved aside. My education was never as important as my brother’s.
I had no college fund. No help with scholarship applications.
No time for the extracurriculars or volunteer positions that might have made me look attractive to prestigious schools.
All I had was a dangerous concoction of brains, determination, and stubbornness—and yet I’d grown up craving approval from my parents, my brothers, my teachers.
Even now, as a grown adult with a business and full independence, hearing a powerful man with innate authority tell me that I was good at my job made me want to lean toward him and simper.
It was pathetic. I hated how much I wanted someone to recognize my efforts, how much I craved the praise I’d been denied as a child. I loved it when he told me I looked like a princess. I loved the fact that he was here. And I hated every bit of it at the same time.
So I huffed and arched a brow at him, hiding how much his words had affected me. “You expect me to give up my business? Delusional, even for you.”
“A non-exclusive contract. Six months,” he countered, still standing too close, still watching me like he wanted to devour me. “You could keep working on your business while you work for me. My team’s travel needs would take priority, but you’d have time to work on your own projects.”
“How much time? How would I ensure that you don’t use the priority clause to push out all my regular clients?” I shot back.
“I’d leave that up to you.”
It was my turn to laugh.
He had the audacity to look offended. “What’s so funny?”
“Mr. Frost,” I clipped, shaking my head. “There isn’t a hope in hell that you would leave anything up to me. And that’s why I could never work for you.”
Cal’s jaw bulged as he ground his teeth.
His eyes slid away from mine, and I exhaled.
Holding eye contact with him had started to become difficult.
After a moment, he seemed to come to a decision.
He met my gaze again, and without preamble, he said, “I’m about to lose a hundred-million-dollar contract because of a series of fuckups with travel arrangements.
The travel agent messed up a connection, and the company owners were stranded in Atlanta for twelve hours.
We promised to put them up in a hotel, but it was overbooked, and then the agent never answered their calls to fix the problem.
Another VC firm got wind of it and swooped in to get them to the city to start negotiations. ”
I straightened, shocked at his honesty. “And you can’t salvage the relationship?”
“I’m trying, but it’s not looking good. I can’t afford for that to happen again. I mean literally can’t afford for it to happen again. My firm’s future depends on it.”