Chapter 20 Deena
TWENTY
DEENA
The pasta salad was only the first of the meals Cal had sent to my office. From that evening on, every day at noon on the dot, a delivery guy brought something for me to eat. After three days of it, I marched into my boss’s office.
“Cal,” I snapped, closing the door behind me as I glared at him.
To my right, the wall was almost fully decorated with Lila’s drawings, all framed professionally and displayed like priceless pieces of art.
I forced myself not to look at them, because they might make me think he had some redeeming qualities. He did not.
Cal leaned back in his chair and watched me with pale blue eyes. “Yes, Deena?”
“I don’t need you to feed me,” I said through clenched teeth, lifting the six-inch thick roast beef sandwich that had been delivered today. It looked amazing, but this was getting ridiculous.
“But you do need to be fed,” Cal replied.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re clearly not eating when left to your own devices, Deena.”
“And that’s my problem.”
Unperturbed, Cal spread his hands in what I thought was surrender. Until the next day, when another gourmet sandwich landed on my desk. Prosciutto, avocado, and roasted vegetable. My mouth watered, but enough was enough.
Erica and Lila happened to be walking by when I grabbed the sandwich, intending to throw it at Cal’s head. His sister looked at me, her brows raised as her gaze dipped to the soon-to-be-projectile gripped in my hands. “Everything okay?”
Lila blinked up at me, a fresh drawing gripped between her fingers. Another addition to the growing gallery wall in Cal’s office.
I forced my shoulders to ease and smiled at the little girl. Then I looked at her mother and said, “Your brother seems to think I’m unable to take care of myself. He’s been sending lunch to my desk every day.”
Erica’s head tilted. Her eyes seemed brighter than the last time I’d seen her, and she wasn’t dragging her steps quite as much.
She must’ve been feeling better. Judging by her sharp gaze, she shared her brother’s perceptiveness—and it was currently focused on me.
Finally, her lips curved into a smile as she shook her head. “He does that.”
“Force-feed people who don’t want it?”
“Yes,” she confirmed with a laugh. “Just be thankful he’s not making you any green smoothies.” She shuddered dramatically.
We both turned at the sound of Cal’s voice. “Excellent idea, Erica. Willa!” He called out. The new receptionist poked her head around the corner, and Cal said, “Buy a blender for the office. A good one. And one of those delivery boxes with the seasonal vegetables.”
Erica gagged theatrically.
“On it!” Willa replied.
I glared at him, and he smiled. It was the smile of a cat who had a mouse right where he wanted it. My stomach clenched.
Erica’s gaze bounced between us. She gave me an assessing stare, then stuck out her hand. “I didn’t catch your name last time.”
“Deena,” I said.
“Erica,” she replied. “I give you permission to throw any disgusting smoothie Cal makes right into his face.”
I smiled. “Wonderful idea.”
“I don’t like this,” Cal said, wagging his finger between the two of us. “Lila, let’s put that picture on the wall. Erica, step away from the angry woman. She’s unstable when she gets worked up.”
I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped.
The three of them disappeared into Cal’s office, and he threw me one last look before he closed the door.
It was warm. Teasing. Made my heartbeat take off.
And when I sat behind my desk and unwrapped my sandwich, I gave in to the desire to smile.
I bit into the sandwich, letting out a short groan when the flavors hit my tongue. Divine.
A while later, I waved at Erica and Lila as they passed my office door on the way out, then I returned my gaze to my screen.
I had to admit I loved this work. I’d enjoyed building my business, troubleshooting different processes, refining my lead generation funnel, coming up with various new efficiencies…
I found it endlessly exciting to build something.
So working for Cal wasn’t just a big, lifesaving paycheck and an opportunity to indulge in my attraction to him.
It was fun and rewarding and challenging.
It felt good to be part of something bigger, and to show off all the skills I’d spent the last eight years honing.
I worked until the sun went down, swapping over to my own business’s tasks when I was done with Cal’s. I felt alive and buzzing and good.
Around eight o’clock, a notification popped up on my laptop: an email from Alba.
I’d helped build her website when she first started her image consulting business, and I’d referred one of my more fashion-challenged clients to her to get her going.
That had been fun too—helping build something for a friend.
Now she emailed me from her website’s inbox with the news that she was going to dip her toe back into her image consulting business when her son turned six months old in a couple of weeks.
My answer was immediate.
DEENA
So exciting!! What do you need from me?
ALBA
Just your moral support. I wanted to check that this email still works, and it took me a full ten minutes to log in. Baby brain is no joke. If you have any spare brain cells, send them my way.
I huffed.
DEENA
I’m not sure I have many of those left these days…
ALBA
Huh?? Tell me more!
I bit my lip. One of the reasons I hadn’t told Alba about everything that was going on was because I hated being a burden. I hated feeling like I wasn’t strong enough to deal with my problems on my own, and opening up to someone else reminded me that I was struggling.
Maybe it was time for me to let go of that mindset, reach out, and ask for help.
Alba had confided in me so much, and we’d grown close because of it.
Would it work the same way if I told her about my bad decisions with Cal?
My heart began to thump, and I felt ridiculous for it.
Alba was my friend. My best friend! Of course she would want to hear about my problems. She’d want to help me with them; she was generous and kind and funny and brilliant.
Sharing everything that had happened with Cal would bring us closer together, and it would make me feel better.
So why was it so freaking scary to be vulnerable? What was I afraid of?
I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to keep living my life so isolated. I wanted freedom and independence—but I didn’t want to live on a deserted island with only myself for company.
I wanted that warm feeling of Cal making sure I was fed, even when I pretended to resent it. I remembered what had happened in that billiards room, and how freeing it had been to give myself to his care. How since then, my heart sped up every time our eyes met.
How I’d taken this job because I needed the money…and because nothing felt quite as good as being in the same room as Callum Frost.
My computer dinged with another notification. I’d left it too long. Alba knew there was some juicy gossip coming her way.
With a deep breath, I hit reply and wrote the only thing that could sum up the situation before I lost my nerve.
DEENA
I have a crush on my boss.
I sent it, heart fluttering, knowing Alba would reply in an instant. She could relate, after all.
It took me five full seconds to realize that Alba wouldn’t be the one to reply, though. Because that other ding hadn’t been from her. It was a new email from Willa, informing the whole company that there would be a fire drill scheduled for later in the month.
And I’d hit reply all.
Panic was a jolt of adrenaline to my system. I gasped as my lungs suddenly constricted, my legs beginning to tremble. A little countdown timer appeared at the bottom corner of my screen, informing me that I had only a few seconds left to unsend the email. The timer counted down…down…down.
My coordination was shot. The cursor went wild on the screen as I tried to mash the unsend button, my heart pumping so hard I felt like I was about to pass out. I clicked, and clicked and clicked—
Message sent.
I stared at the little box in the bottom corner, not understanding. Horror dawned. My stomach went hollow, and a keening whine began to sound in my ears.
Outside the door, silence reigned. Was anyone still here? Most days, I was the last to leave. It was late; maybe everyone was gone.
But Willa had sent the email. Was she still here? It wasn’t that late.
I half stood and froze. I’d pull the fire alarm. All the computers would be drenched, and no one would read the email. I’d probably get fined—would I go to jail? Didn’t matter. My pride would be saved.
That’s not how emails work, my brain reminded me. Half the company had probably already read my confession on their phones. They were chewing on dinner, glancing at the notification on their screen, doing a double take, reading again.
Mortification froze me in my seat. Embarrassment burned through me like a fiery lance. I’d never done anything so careless in my entire life. I held myself completely still, forcing my breaths to slow. Exhaling all the air from my lungs, I waited for the laughter that never came.
As the seconds dragged by, slow as molasses in the middle of winter, my panic grew from a tightening at the base of my spine to the clenching of a giant fist around my body.
I lowered myself into my seat, then glanced over my shoulder.
How hard would it be to break that big, plate-glass window so I could jump out?
My gaze snapped back to the screen. I’d just torpedoed my entire reputation with seven little incriminating words. My head was full of white noise. My vision was blurry around the edges.
I leaned my elbows on my desk and dropped my head in my hands. I sucked in labored breaths as my legs trembled and bounced.
This was why I didn’t open up to anyone. This was the universe was telling me loud and clear that I had to keep my problems to myself, otherwise they’d explode in my face.
I stared at my desk, seeing nothing, and began to formulate a plan. I would gather my things, leave, and never come back. I’d send my resignation. I was kissing away more than a hundred thousand dollars, but it didn’t matter. I could never show my face here again. Never, ever, ever.
My breaths became easier. Calm settled over me as my plan came into focus.
Until I heard the scuff of a shoe in my doorway, and I looked up to see Cal.
The lights behind him outlined his broad shoulders, his tapered waist. He moved in an unhurried manner, but when I looked at the darkly triumphant look in his eyes, I knew.
I just knew that there would be no resignation. No running. No relief.
Cal took one leisurely step inside my office, touched the edge of the door, and closed it. Its gentle snick was as loud as a gunshot in my ears. Then, with a casual flick of his fingers, Cal threw the lock.