Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
DEENA
A little over a week later, the contract was signed and I was staring into the depths of my closet on Monday morning, wondering what I should wear to the first day of a job I didn’t want, working for a man I’d slept with the previous weekend.
I’d considered rejecting the offer, but practicality won out. As long as I worked one full day, I’d get half my three-hundred-thousand-dollar salary paid up front. I just couldn’t say no.
Besides, spending time with Cal was sure to make my attraction wane. He was domineering, irritating, and overbearing. I lived for my freedom and independence. No matter how attractive he was, it couldn’t change those fundamental truths.
The best way to get over him was to get to know him.
As I gulped down my second coffee of the day, I looked at the outfits I’d laid out on my bed. I didn’t want to wear the gray pantsuit. It was great for appearing professional when I was meeting clients, but it wouldn’t be right for Cal. He’d know I was trying to wear it like armor.
I had to go in there seeming confident and in control.
My outfit had to scream the message that whatever had happened before, it had no bearing on what would happen going forward.
He was paying me an obscene amount of money for a non-exclusive employment contract.
I was doing the smart, logical thing and taking the money. But that was all I was taking.
Still, foolish female vanity scratched her nails along the knobby bones of my spine, and I discovered that despite everything, I still wanted Cal to think I looked good.
I grabbed a favorite blouse of mine, a shade of burgundy that set off my skin tone.
It wasn’t exactly a spring color, but the blouse had balloon sleeves that gathered into thick cuffs at the wrists and a big, silly bow at the neck.
I laid it on the bed and grabbed a pair of wide-leg pants in a shade just a bit darker than the blouse.
It would stand out against the grays and blacks and whites of his office, but no one could tell me it looked unprofessional.
It was an outfit that said I had a point of view.
An outfit that said I couldn’t be put in a box.
An outfit that made me feel like me. Now, more than ever, I needed to remind myself of who I was.
I stood in front of the mirror and fastened the blouse’s necktie into a big, floppy bow, then pulled on the pants and picked a pair of satin burgundy pumps to complete my monochromatic outfit.
With my hair styled in soft waves and just the right amount of makeup to highlight my features, I felt beautiful and powerful and ready to face Callum Frost. Today, he wouldn’t be the man who’d torn my body apart just over a week ago.
Instead, he was the man who would finally let me achieve some stability. Nothing else.
I grabbed my things and walked out the door.
When I got to the office this time, a young woman waited behind the glossy reception desk. She smiled at me. “Deena Brand?” When I nodded, she gestured to the hallway. “Right this way. Your office is ready.”
My brows jumped. Callum and I hadn’t discussed an office. I thought I’d be working in the pit in a cubicle with the rest of the team.
“I’m Willa,” she said. “I just started here too. I love your outfit.”
I smiled, glad there was at least someone who appreciated my style. “Thank you.”
“Here we are,” she said, and opened an office door directly beside Callum’s. “Mr. Frost will be right with you, but let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”
“Thanks, Willa.”
She left me to explore the office on my own. I stepped inside, and I swore I could smell his cologne, sense the hint of his presence in the space from earlier. Eyes narrowing, I scanned the generous space and circled the desk to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The view of the city was unbelievable. Towering above the chaos where I was, I almost felt separate from it.
Cars zoomed on the streets below, and people rushed across on foot.
My thoughts drifted to the quiet street where I’d grown up.
I never thought I’d get away. That big, stately house had felt like a prison.
I used to dream about coming here and making something of myself—and now look.
I was up in the clouds hovering over Manhattan, about to receive more money than I’d ever had, expanding the business that was my lifeline.
Had accepting Callum’s job offer been a mistake or a boon?
Was I walking into a trap, or doing the only logical thing a woman in my situation could do?
Sighing, I tore my gaze away from the city below and turned to my desk.
It was a gorgeous, solid wood piece of furniture with a tall, upholstered chair behind it.
As I approached, my brows drew together.
On top of the desk was a box, and taped to the box was a yellow Post-it note that curled at the bottom. I pressed it flat so I could read it.
Call this a sign-on bonus. Donate the other one to the Met. They’ve got an exhibit on ancient tools; I’m sure they’d be happy to add yours to the permanent collection.
C
A new, top-of-the-line laptop waited for me beneath the note. I peeled the note off and held it between my thumb and forefinger, arching a brow at the computer. A bonus, or a bribe?
“This is the part where you say, ‘thank you, Cal,’” he rumbled from the doorway.
I pretended his voice didn’t send a shiver right through me, and I ran a finger along the edge of the laptop box.
I would’ve been able to afford this when my first payment came through, but I never would’ve allowed myself to buy one so nice.
“Thank you, Cal,” I dutifully repeated, flicking my gaze up to look at him through my lashes.
He leaned against the doorframe, a lion at rest. The hunting was done, and he would sleep until it was time to eat again.
His gaze was unreadable, but his lips twitched into a ghost of a smile.
“I was half-convinced you wouldn’t show up this morning,” he admitted, pushing himself off the frame to prowl closer.
I was grateful for the chunky desk that separated us. “I considered it.”
“But you’re no coward.”
“I’m no fool,” I corrected. “I only have to make it to the end of the day.”
“You won’t quit at five o’clock,” he answered.
I sat down in my chair and tented my fingers. “Oh? What makes you so sure?”
“Simple,” he replied. “You’re obsessed with me.”
A smile stole over my lips before I could stop it, and I rolled my eyes. “Uh-huh.”
“And you like a challenge. You like proving people wrong and muscling your way into spaces where you’re not supposed to be. It reminds you that you’ve made it. That all those people were and still are wrong about you.”
My smile faded, and I frowned at him. That was a little close to the mark—but what else could I expect from a man who made a living reading people, assessing their business ideas, and deciding who to invest in? He’d been successful because he could see people’s strengths and weaknesses at a glance.
I never should have admitted that stuff on the plane.
I changed the subject: “I’d like to review your current processes in relation to travel planning. I’ll then make recommendations for improvements.”
He straightened, scowling. “My processes don’t need improvement.”
“I’m the expert here, Mr. Frost. You hired me for a reason.”
“I hired you to make sure we didn’t lose any more contracts because of travel disasters.” His head tilted ever so slightly. “And because I wanted to see your face every day.”
That admission—whether or not it was true—made me want to melt for him. God, I was pathetic. All I could do was ignore it and address the first part. “Travel disasters which occurred because of your current process. Hence the need for me to assess them and make recommendations.”
Oh, he did not like being challenged in his own territory.
His brow darkened as he held my gaze, those pale blue eyes burrowing into mine with a ferocity that made me glad I was already sitting.
He’d looked at me the same way when he had me up against the billiards table, when I kept touching him after he told me not to. It was electrifying.
I smiled—and I realized he was right. I liked muscling my way into this office, wearing my red power suit and my dangly earrings, holding that big, day-one payout over his head. It did make me feel like I’d made it. Hadn’t that been exactly what I was thinking when I looked out the window?
I lifted my chin. “I feel the need to remind you that if you fire me at any point over the next six months, you’ll owe me the entirety of my contracted salary.”
“I don’t need reminding,” he growled, then leaned his knuckles on my desk. “And I’m sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but I’m not firing you. You’re stuck with me for at least the next six months.”
What did he mean, at least?
He pushed off and walked out of the office. I waited until I heard the door to his office close before I released the breath from my lungs.
Six months might as well be an eternity, but Cal had been right about another thing: I wouldn’t quit. I needed the money, and I enjoyed a challenge.
That, and I’d never felt as alive as I did when the whole weight of his attention was bearing down on me. With trembling hands, I unpacked my new laptop and got to work.