Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
DEENA
The underskirt of my dress was crinkled beyond recognition, but the crystal-encrusted tulle hid some of the damage.
The nearest bathroom was at the far end of the hall, which meant I’d have to pass the big double doors leading to the party room and probably run into half a dozen of my mother’s closest frenemies on the way there.
Yeah, no. That wasn’t happening. I pulled out a tiny compact mirror from my purse and checked my face.
I was flushed, and my concealer had creased under my eyes.
I patted it out and reapplied my lip gloss, then tried my best to finger-comb my hair.
Cal leaned against the billiards table, watching me.
His gaze was a hot brand. I glanced over my shoulder to arch my brows at him, and he blinked lazily. “You look perfect, Deena,” he rumbled.
His words made my gut clench. I snapped my compact closed and turned away from him, hoping he couldn’t see the blush rising on my cheeks. “I need to go to the bathroom to wash up,” I announced.
“I’d really rather you didn’t.”
I spun around to glare at him, but Cal had his eyes on his cuffs, readjusting them again in an exaggerated casual move. “Excuse me?” I bit off.
Blue eyes lifted to meet mine. I went completely still. “You heard me, Deena.”
We were across the room from each other now, but my thighs clenched. Thighs still coated in sticky release, drying in streaks on my skin. My underwear was drenched and uncomfortable.
And he wanted me to leave it, because he was a complete and utter pervert.
And why the hell was I turned on again?
“Absolutely not,” I clipped, and turned for the door.
Before I could get there, it swung open. My mother’s face appeared, eyes narrowing slightly as she took in my appearance. Her gaze flitted to Cal and back to me. She painted a smile on her face. “We’re about to do the toasts. Chop-chop! You can work out whatever it is you’re fighting about later.”
“We aren’t fighting,” I said, stomping toward the exit.
My mother gave me a significant glance that said, Really, Deena? Messing this up too? She stepped out the door and held it open while Callum ambled toward us without a hair out of place. He smiled at my mother, sweeping her fingers into his as he reached her.
He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “I can see where Deena gets her perceptiveness.”
My mother blushed.
Cal smiled, eyes sliding to mine. “And her beauty.”
“Oh, Cal,” my mother said with a titter, swatting at his broad shoulder. “Don’t let my husband hear you say things like that, or he might have to have words.”
My father would never have words. He didn’t care about anything my mother did as long as his drink was refilled on command and his dinner was hot and ready when he wanted it.
Cal inclined his head, then extended one elbow toward each of us. He smiled serenely at me as I vibrated with rage beside him, but I had to take his proffered arm unless I wanted to make a scene. The three of us re-entered the main ballroom with Cal the perfect gentleman as our escort.
The perfect gentleman who’d just screwed me to within an inch of my life. I wasn’t the same woman I’d been an hour ago.
The speeches were full of lavish praise and even more lavish lies about my parents’ relationship.
I clapped when it was appropriate, then snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter to down the whole thing in a gulp.
Cal watched my every move, and when I’d given the empty glass back to the staff member, we were ushered to our seats.
I took the opportunity to slip from Cal’s grasp and head for the washroom.
It was beyond a heavy wooden door, with a little tower of rolled-up washcloths waiting for me on the marble vanity.
I grabbed one, wetted it, and sequestered myself in one of the stalls to scrub away the remnants of what we’d done.
My underwear was a disaster. There was no way I was putting it back on. I stuffed it into the trash can in the stall and told myself everyone made mistakes. This just happened to be one of mine.
Then I touched up my makeup and took deep cleansing breaths in front of the mirror to compose myself. I would refuse to sign the contract. I’d block him again. I’d make sure I never saw him again, because his presence dropped my IQ to precipitously low levels.
The washroom door swung open, and I smiled at the older woman who stepped through. Tossing my used washcloths in the pail designed for that purpose, I brushed past her and walked back to the ballroom.
I spent the entire meal pushing food around my plate, wanting the evening to end. But it didn’t end. It kept going, and going, and going.
When the last plate was cleared, I prepared myself to make my escape—and Cal swept me into his arms and dragged me to the dance floor.
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
“Dancing.”
“I don’t dance.”
“You do now.” His arm clamped around my back, and I could feel the whole length of him down my front. His palm was broad and warm where it held my hand, his head tilted toward me as if I were the only woman in the room.
He was toying with me, dragging this out so I knew he was still in charge.
He was angry that I’d rejected him after what we did, and now he was needling at me the way he always did, trying to get me to make a scene.
I set my jaw and glared up at him, and his lips curved into a smile.
The hand on my waist slid down to my hip, and Cal’s eyes lit up with interest.
“You’re not wearing underwear, Deena.”
Heat threaded through me. His fingers pressed into my hip, branding the bare skin beneath. I glared. “You are an insolent, irritating man,” I said in a voice low enough that no one else would hear.
He dipped his lips toward my ear, his hold on me tightening as the music swelled around us. “And you are an infuriating, intoxicating woman.”
A shiver went through me, and I knew he felt it. Redoubling the force of my glare didn’t seem to affect him as he pulled away, his body refusing to give me an inch of space as he swept me around the dance floor.
I realized, as he twirled me, that I’d made a critical mistake.
I thought I could push him away, but Cal was a man who got what he wanted. In trying to reject him and put walls up against him, I’d only become more of a challenge.
And now I’d be working for him.
What had I done?
The last notes of the music shimmered in the air, and couples all over the dance floor pulled apart to applaud the string quartet.
“I need a drink,” I announced.
“I’ll get it for you,” he offered, ever the perfect gentleman. One of the couples next to us smiled, and I bit back my retort. He walked me to the edge of the dance floor and headed for the bar, and I took the opportunity to duck toward the open doors. Fresh air would help my brain reboot.
With my hands wrapped tight around the balustrade, I let the sea breeze wash over me. It was a little too cool to be comfortable, but I relished the way it woke me up. I closed my eyes and inhaled, sorting through my thoughts.
I wouldn’t work for him. No way. I’d make it through this evening, then send him on his way, make something up about us breaking up when my mother inevitably asked about him, and then never see him again.
Never feel his lips on mine again. Never get that flying, floating feeling when he helped me let go. Never again feel the electric jolt caused by his full, focused attention.
My brows arched, and I looked out over the inky sea. Could I really walk away from him after what had just happened between us?
“Trouble in paradise?” a familiar voice asked.
I turned as Austin came to a stop beside me, a glass of liquor dangling from his fingertips. He extended a flute of champagne toward me. I took it and lifted it in thanks. “These things always exhaust me,” I explained.
Austin hummed, his eyes coasting over my face. “You look good, Deena. Really good.”
I smiled at the compliment, but a twist of discomfort went through me.
It didn’t feel the same as when Cal called me beautiful.
Austin had a way of saying it that was layered.
Like even a simple compliment might have a cost—just by receiving it, I now owed him something.
When Cal called me beautiful or perfect or infuriating, it felt like he was saying it because it was the simple, undeniable truth.
“Thank you,” I said, and took a sip. “So do you. Haven’t seen you in a tux since prom.”
He grinned at me. “The good ole days.” He angled his body toward me, his hip leaning on the balustrade. The waves lapped at the marina below us, boats bobbing up and down in a gentle rhythm. “You ever consider moving back?”
I laughed. “No.”
Austin had the gall to look wounded. He took a sip of his drink and gave me a rueful smile. “And here I thought I had a shot of convincing you to pick up where we left off.”
Before I could remind him that we left off when we were both teenagers and our brains weren’t fully developed, a deep voice made me turn toward the ballroom.
“You don’t,” Cal said, his gait casual, his eyes hard.
He smiled, but there was no humor. “Have a shot,” he finished, pale eyes boring into Austin’s. “She’s here with me.”
The cold wind lifting goosebumps all over my arms did nothing to quench the heat that Cal’s voice ignited in my gut. No one had ever claimed me like that. So publicly. So undeniably.
I knew it wasn’t real. I knew Cal just wanted me to know that he hadn’t given up.
In fact, he’d won, because he’d gotten to sleep with me and I’d agreed to work with him.
Still, he was a good actor. He looked truly furious as he stalked toward me and plucked the champagne from my fingers.
He set the flute on the nearest table and replaced it with the one he’d brought me.
Austin had straightened and taken half a step back in the meantime, his eyes losing their playful light as he glared at Cal. “I think Deena can speak for herself.”
My brows lifted. That was an interesting thought, and completely opposite to how Austin had treated me when we were together. Maybe Austin had evolved in the years I’d been away.
Cal ignored him, choosing instead to grasp my chin and turn my head so I’d meet his gaze.
His eyes burned into me, and my gut clenched.
It didn’t look like he was playacting at being angry at all.
I parted my lips to say something, and he took that opportunity to kiss me, hard and possessive.
It didn’t last long, but it knocked me completely off-balance.
His eyes never left mine, but he spoke to Austin. “Leave us,” he said.
Austin scoffed, and I saw him slink back inside in my peripheral vision. I tore my chin away from Cal’s grasp. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” I snapped. My heart was beating too fast. I took a sip of my fresh glass of champagne and glared out at the boats.
“He wants to fuck you,” Cal growled.
I clicked my tongue and turned to stare at him. “Okay. And?”
His jaw bulged as he locked his teeth. Before either of us could answer, my mother appeared at the inner edge of the balcony.
“There you are!” she called out, bustling closer.
“Cal, honey, have you got your bags with you? I won’t hear of you staying at a hotel.
You’ll stay at our house. Don’t take off early, now.
I want as much time as possible with the man who captured my darling daughter’s heart. ”
Darling daughter?
Cal turned, his face shedding its anger and transforming into a smile. “How generous of you, Mrs. Brand.”
“Will you call me Maryanne?” she chided, flapping her hands.
“He can’t stay with us!” I exclaimed, my voice squeaking.
“Nonsense, Deena,” my mother said, giving me a loaded look. “Stop being ridiculous.”
She and Dad had never let boyfriends stay over. Stacey hadn’t even been able to sleep over until after she and Brooks were married.
Cal put his arm around my shoulder, and I hated that his warmth felt like home in the chill of the outdoors.
“Not in the same room, of course,” my mother said, wagging her finger at Cal. “We’re decent people.”
“I wouldn’t dream of breaking your house rules,” he said, thumb stroking my shoulder. I looked at Cal, who looked back at me. His lips were set in a soft smile, but his eyes were hard as chips of ice.
The message was clear. Your move, Deena.