Chapter 18
18
CARLEE
“ W hat the hell?” I grab my clothes and move to the bathroom, my mind racing.
“I’ll be back,” he says, lingering at the doorway, the playful glint in his eyes betraying his nonchalance.
“What should I do?” I whisper, glancing toward the anaconda in his joggers. “Weston.”
A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Whatever you fucking want.”
“You’re rock hard,” I whisper, the words slipping out.
His eyes dart from my eyes to my mouth, and heat swirls between us. “Because of you.”
“Should I hide?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest. The adrenaline surging through me makes me feel alive.
“That’s your decision,” he replies.
Just then, the doorbell rings again.
“Good. Confirmation that it’s not Easton. Better check it out,” he says.
I clean up and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, which seems both foreign and familiar. My just-fucked hair frames a face with swollen lips. My body sings, and I feel like I’m floating in space; it’s euphoric like I’ve transcended to a different dimension. I let out a breath, the silence amplifying the rapid heartbeat in my ears, and that’s when I notice the hickey on my neck.
Flipping my hair over to one side, I lean closer to the full-length mirror.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, my pulse quickening as I assess the damage.
I don’t know if I packed the right makeup to cover this.
“Shit,” I whisper to myself, remembering how it felt to be with him. I can’t show up to work like this tomorrow.
I wiggle into my shorts and a shirt that clings to my body. Bravely, I crack open Weston’s door and catch the sound of a high-pitched voice. A woman. I gulp hard.
Sucking in a deep breath, I remind myself I asked for a situationship only. Does he really have a secret girlfriend and lied to me?
He told me I could do whatever I wanted, so I decide to skip down the stairs, my wild hair bouncing with each step. They both stop talking when I enter the room. Weston’s arms are wrapped around her, and she seems upset. I recognize her gorgeous face. She’s the same woman who complimented me on my Valentino dress in the lobby. Does she live at The Park too?
“Oh,” she says, noticing me. “Oh. Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t alone,” she says to Weston, and they pull apart.
“It’s okay,” he says.
I feel a prick of something on my skin. Is that jealousy ?
“Apologies for interrupting,” she whispers, creating space between them. “Can we talk soon?” she asks with a pretty smile.
Her dark brown hair cascades elegantly down her shoulders, and her eyes are crystal blue, almost gray. The light reflects off a diamond bracelet on her wrist as she tucks hair behind her ear.
What bothers me the most is they actually look good together. And they were holding one another .
“Yes. We can get together this week. Just text me,” he replies, stepping away to walk her out.
I make my way toward the kitchen, suddenly feeling parched as an unease takes over.
Their voices fade as they continue chatting with the door closed, but the words remain a mystery. A few seconds later, Weston saunters into the kitchen, a smirk playing on his lips, which were buried between my legs less than twenty minutes ago.
“Is that your secret girlfriend?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual despite the storm brewing in my chest.
His brows lift in surprise. “You’re jealous, and it’s pretty fucking cute.”
Am I under his spell, like all the other stupid girls who have been obsessed with him over the years?
“What? No.” I roll my eyes, managing to smile at him.
The truth is, I am . I saw how she looked at him, that starry-eyed gaze, and how his expression softened when their eyes met. They were holding each other in a hug, and I sensed a moment that felt too personal. Like a secret was shared, and I wasn’t supposed to witness it.
“And what if I said she was the woman I’d been seeing? Are you sure you’d be okay with that?” he asks, his playful demeanor evaporating, replaced by something more serious.
The mood grows heavy as emotions crawl through me. Blood floods my head, and I feel like I’m drowning. I shouldn’t feel like this.
He doesn’t say anything, allowing the uncomfortable silence. It’s like a strong current pulling me under.
“Think about that stirring feeling. Sit in it and consider it before making your decision because that’s what you’re okay with, Carlee. That’s what you’re asking of me,” he says.
His tone makes my stomach twist.
“I understand that. I just want you to be happy.” I glance up at the clock, grimacing as I realize it’s almost three .
Exhaustion quickly washes over me. The roller coaster of emotions, the dizzying highs and crushing lows, has left me breathless.
I walk past him, forcing a smile, trying to mask my spiraling thoughts. “Thanks for the reminder, bestie.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies.
“She’s gorgeous,” I say. “How long have you known her? A year?”
“A very long time.”
His gaze follows me until I slip out of sight. Seeing him embrace someone else isn’t something I can easily digest. Tonight was a wake-up call. It’s a loud, blaring internal siren. Maybe this is proof that I’m not emotionally capable of maintaining a friends-with-benefits arrangement with him .
Our attraction is more than purely physical, and that’s when situationships grow dangerous. It’s how people fall in love, and I don’t know if we’re capable of that right now. Heartache isn’t something I’m searching for. My heart still feels far too fragile to risk it. And his is still in ashes.
I return to my room, crawling into the cold sheets that feel harsh against my skin in comparison to Weston’s. I roll over onto my side, staring outside at the flurries—tiny flakes dancing in the dim light, swirling against the glass like fleeting dreams. When I close my eyes, the vision of the two of them locked in each other’s gaze invades my thoughts.
Then, a flash of memory hits me—the diamond bracelet on her wrist, glistening like a star in the night sky. It must have cost a fortune. I can’t help but think of the one Weston gave me.
Are diamonds the Calloway initiation?
Easton gave Lexi jewelry too.
My mind races, each thought more frantic than the last. Does he privately collect pretty brunettes, cycling through us like seasons? She seemed genuinely surprised to see me. Am I part of some twisted game I didn’t even know I had signed up for ?
Seconds later, Weston walks into my room, and before I can process anything, the covers are lifted. He slides behind me, snaking his arm around my body with effortless intimacy. I can feel the warmth radiating off him, his breath brushing close to my ear as he kisses my neck, igniting a spark that I both crave and dread.
“You’re overthinking,” he whispers, the words both soothing and taunting. Of course, he knew what was spinning through my mind. Weston knows me. “Just relax.”
I sigh as I settle into his strong body that molds against mine. A million questions flood through me, but this isn’t a conversation I can have right now. I’m too exhausted and conflicted to confront the truth.
“Good night,” I finally say.
“Earlier, you were going to say something before we were interrupted.”
I think back and remember I almost told him that I was afraid to fall in love with him. But I keep it to myself. Admissions like that need to have the right timing, and for some reason, it wasn’t.
“Ask me later,” I tell him. “Doesn’t feel right yet.”
“Okay,” he says, nuzzling into my neck.
I could do this forever, and that alone makes me delusional. But for once, I live in the fantasy of it, wondering what could be. I let out a breath.
“Sweet dreams, Firefly.” His fingers interlock with mine.
My body releases me to sleep, and I quickly drift off, hoping rest will give me the clarity I need.
I have a decision to make, and it needs to be the right one for us both.
My alarm forces me awake, and when I glance down, I realize I’ve already snoozed twice.
“Shit.” I roll over, realizing the bed is empty. When did he leave?
The sun rises, casting an orange and pink hue across the sky. I’m not ready to face the day, but the world waits for no one.
I quickly grab my work clothes as I question everything.
Did I imagine Weston held me until I fell asleep? Or did it actually happen? Yesterday felt like a strange blend of fantasy and nightmare. I experienced my biggest fear and greatest desires within hours of each other.
I just want to know who took my fucking laptop.
As I brush my teeth, I catch a glimpse of the purple hickey in the mirror.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
I know I don’t have time to stop by a drugstore for concealer before I need to be at the W.
I suck in a deep breath and text Lexi. Right now, she’s my only hope.
Carlee
Are you awake?
Lexi
Yep! Eating breakfast. Hungry? Easton just left. I have extra!
Carlee
I only have five minutes.
Lexi
Perfect amount of time.
I pull my hair back into a tight bun as whispers of self-doubt take over, but I have no choice. It’s either I deal with Lexi or Mr. Martin, and she’s easier to handle than him. As I walk around the penthouse, I realize Weston already left for the day.
In a rush, I take the elevator to her floor. I knock urgently, and she answers with a smile. Her tiny pregnant belly is showing, and she’s glowing.
“Aww, you’re so cute, Mama,” I exclaim.
The sight of her brings a smile to my lips.
“Aww. Thanks.” She beams back at me, but her expression shifts. “Is that a hickey on your neck?”
Before I can think, I slap my hand over the mark, embarrassment flooding my cheeks. “I need makeup. I didn’t pack any for this. Just have my travel bag.”
“Who’s responsible for that? Sam or Weston?” she asks, eyebrows raised.
“You know I don’t kiss and tell,” I say, refusing to answer as she guides me up to her bathroom.
“It was Weston. Those damn Calloways. Easton tagged me so many times.”
Lexi rummages through her cosmetics and pulls out some concealer, dabbing it on my neck with practiced care.
“Do you know if Weston is seeing someone secretly?” I ask and almost immediately regret it.
She bursts into laughter. “He’s not. Trust me. If he was serious about someone, Easton would know.”
I don’t know why that stings a little. Do I want Weston to tell his brother about us? What are we even?
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“Last night, this very pretty woman came to visit him at three in the morning. I walked in on them hugging, very closely,” I explain, my voice barely above a whisper. A creeping thought invades my mind. “What if there is someone, and …”
My words falter. I’m the decoy.
“What?” Lexi looks at me with alarm on her face.
“Nothing.” I force a smile, pushing the thoughts away.
Weston has always been two steps ahead of everyone. He’s a master strategist when it comes to how his life is portrayed. He has a team that watches everything said about him online because his reputation is important. But would he use me to feed the media a false narrative that I’m not aware of? I’d like to think not, but doubt gnaws at me. I don’t want to get caught up in his web.
“I can guarantee those blind items are about you and Weston. Why are you trying to convince yourself they’re not and there is someone else?”
“You can’t guarantee that,” I counter, shaking my head. “Sure, it’s convenient, but maybe it’s a planned cover-up for something greater, and I’m just a distraction in Weston’s ultimate game of chess. Lexi, there was a beautiful woman who looked like a supermodel in designer clothes, standing in his penthouse, and he was comforting her. When I appeared, her surprise was obvious, as if I’d interrupted something. It seemed serious, and she apologized and kept saying she didn’t know he wasn’t alone.”
“What did she look like?” Lexi asks.
I sigh, my heart sinking with the memory. “About my height. Dark brown hair, light-blue eyes.”
“Was it Billie?”
“No, it wasn’t his sister,” I reply. “She’s familiar though, but I can’t pinpoint her yet.”
“Do you want me to ask Weston? I will,” she offers as her fingers finish blending the makeup on my neck.
“Please don’t. That’s not my business. If people want you to know things, they’ll tell you, and he didn’t,” I murmur, feeling the weight of this on my chest. “He’s letting me stay with him out of the kindness of his heart. I just … I just don’t want to be a burden to him and his personal life.”
I glimpse at her handiwork in the mirror. It’s like the mark never even existed. “Thank you.”
“Welcome. Also, I’d be willing to bet anything that Weston doesn’t consider you a burden. Unlike Easton—that man hates being alone—Weston wants company and has a fun personality. You act like him being with you is out of the realm of possibility, and it’s just not. Weston has the hots for you—I can tell,” she confirms with a knowing glance and a slight arch of her brow.
“Shut up,” I say, my face cracking into a smile. “Might need to add him to the wannabe lovers list.”
“Oh, he’s been there for a while anyway. Come get some food. You gotta go. I know you can’t be late.”
I steal a quick glance at the time on my phone, the numbers glaring back at me. I can still make it.
Lexi leads me into the cozy kitchen, where the aroma of freshly cooked bacon fills the air. She grabs a container from the cabinet and fills it with golden scrambled eggs and crispy bacon.
“You’re doing that thing you do where you think someone is too good to be true, and you push them away. Stop trying to convince yourself you and Weston can’t be together.”
Is that what this is? Has my relationship trauma misplaced my mistrust in Weston?
“How well do you know him, Lex?” I ask, a hint of hesitation creeping into my voice.
We’ve never discussed their relationship in depth. I’ve known Weston longer, but Lexi has spent more time with him. Easton and Weston are always together.
“Enough to know you’re his perfect match,” she replies, her tone laced with certainty.
My heart skips a beat.
“He looks at you the same way Easton looks at me.”
I stare at her. “Excuse me?”
“He’s clearly in love with you,” she whispers.
“Lex, it’s dangerous to assume that.”
“It’s not an assumption. It’s the truth. Something changed the night we had burgers and watched Titanic . I noticed it, and so did Easton.”
So did I.
“I really have to go.” A swarm of butterflies swarm in my stomach .
“Just give him a chance,” she urges.
“I know I’m the problem.” I place my hands on her shoulders. “Pretty please don’t add more pressure on me than I already have. I don’t think I can handle anything else right now.”
“I do need your help with one thing. Please?” She glances at me with hopeful eyes.
“Yes?” I ask.
“I need to plan my pregnancy announcement party,” she says, following me to the door, her excitement nearly boiling over. “Will you help? Thankfully, it’s winter, so I can hide my bump with big coats, sweaters, and jackets in public, but that won’t be the case forever.”
A wide smile breaks across my face, and I hug her. “I’d be honored.”
Lexi squeezes me. “Falling in love is fun. You should run toward it this time instead of away.”
“Have a good day.” I leave with the food container cradled in my hand.
My head spins with thoughts of Weston. Lexi thinks he’s in love with me, and I think that’s impossible. Isn’t it?
As soon as I step out of Park Towers, I notice how the sidewalks are alive with the bustling energy of commuters. I take the stairs down to the station to wait for my train. On the platform wall across the way is a large Calloway Diamonds poster stretched out. The family logo—the diamond shape surrounded by a triangle—is simple but iconic. Immediately, thoughts of Weston flood my mind.
I quickly eat the food Lexi packed for me, then toss the container in recycling.
I snap a quick picture of the poster and attach it to a text message to Weston.
Carlee
Thinking about you. Also, am I the decoy ?
Is that too much? Am I being that annoying girl?
I don’t immediately hit Send, my finger hovering over the button.
My insecurity takes hold of me, and I hate that it nearly chokes me.
He told me to text him when I was thinking about him, but I’m so fucking hesitant, and I don’t know why.
Communication is his love language, the bridge he builds to connect with those around him. The years of therapy I took after learning about my dad’s other family taught me that a person’s love language often stems from what they didn’t receive in childhood. My heart aches as I think about Weston, who listens to every word someone speaks, and how he potentially wasn’t heard as a kid.
That thought makes me hit Send because he deserves to receive that, and I hope it puts a smile on his face. However, my hesitation and relationship trauma makes me contemplate my issues, and I wonder if I’ll never be capable of having a healthy relationship because of it.
The only healthy relationship I had exacerbated my fears of abandonment that my father had caused. No wonder I don’t trust men or believe anyone when they say they love me. My jaw clenches instinctively, and my body fills with tension. I try to push the thoughts away, but they’re too overwhelming. The only thing that pulls me out of it is the sudden buzz of my phone.
Weston. He saved me again.
Weston
Might consider increasing the advertising budget so you’re forced to think about me anytime you’re out. And decoy for what? I fucking love how your mind works.
A smile creeps across my face, and my anxiousness almost disappears. Almost.
Carlee
A decoy for your secret girlfriend—to take the attention away so you two can continue to be together.
Weston
You’re adorable.
Carlee
Ignore that. I’m being THAT girl, aren’t I?
Weston
It’s okay to show your cards every once in a while. I’d be raging with jealousy right now if our roles were reversed. It would drive me fucking insane to see another man holding you. I thought you said you wanted to be my dirty little affair?
I imagine his smirk and find myself chewing on my lip as my heart races.
Carlee
Weston Calloway, it is too early in the morning for all of that.
My blood pressure rises as thoughts of him fill my mind. Seconds later, a picture of him standing in his office, sleeves rolled to his elbows, comes over. My eyes slide down to his cock, rock hard in his suit pants. Damn. Memories of us last night flash in my mind.
I wouldn’t last a day at Calloway headquarters.
Weston
You’ve been on my mind all morning.
I swallow hard as butterflies swarm through me.
Carlee
Are you purposely trying to make me fall in love with you?
Weston
We both know that’s not possible.
Carlee
And if it were?
Weston
Enjoy the fall.
My breath catches. He knows what he’s doing, and I’m so easy that I fall for it.
As I glance at the time, I grow anxious, realizing the train is late. Other people on the platform shuffle restlessly, and their impatience echoes my own. Knowing I can’t afford to wait any longer, I trek up the stairs, and the cold air hits me like a slap. I rush the two blocks away and wait at the bus stop. Before I’m actually late, I call the W and attempt to speak to Mr. Martin to give a notice, but I’m met with voice mail. I call back and ask for the shift supervisor, and I’m put on hold.
I overslept and spent too long chatting with Lexi this morning. I’ve been too distracted. That can only mean one thing.
My heart palpitates. I can’t fall in love …
Another few minutes pass, and frustration bubbles beneath the surface. The bus remains a phantom, and time slips through my fingers like sand. Biting back my irritation, I power-walk a few more blocks to the next stop. Just as I arrive, a bus pulls up, and it’s not the right route.
Desperate for a guaranteed solution, I open a rideshare app, and schedule it for three blocks up and jog toward the corner of 6th and 51st.
As soon as I spot Radio City Music Hall, my lungs feel like they’re about to burst. Every deep breath is a painful reminder of how I need to start doing yoga again. I’m relieved when the car finally arrives, but my joy ends too soon.
We make it a few blocks before we’re met with traffic. Walking might’ve been faster at this rate. Not to mention, every traffic light seems to be against me, shifting to red at exactly the wrong time.
“Do you think you can run a few of these?” I ask with a laugh, but the urgency in my voice betrays the humor.
I have less than ten minutes until my shift starts, and at this rate, it doesn’t seem humanly possible to arrive on time. Maybe Mr. Martin will have mercy on me, but I prepare myself for the worst.
I told Weston I didn’t want to quit my job, but getting fired wasn’t on my bingo card.
I bite my lip, anxiety swelling within me.
Taking the train close to Weston’s isn’t something I usually do. I should’ve logged in to the Metro home page and searched for information about the routes. I do it right then. Immediately, I see there was scheduled track maintenance today, causing a fifteen-minute delay.
Someone finally picks up the line. “This is the W. How may I direct your call?”
I answer, “Hotel management, please.”
“Please hold.”
I’m rerouted. After waiting for over ten minutes, I groan and hang up, shaking my head with frustration.
By the time the car stops in front of the W, with its gleaming windows reflecting the early morning sun, I know this is it. As I walk through the grand entrance, with its polished marble floor and elegantly designed lobby, I suddenly feel like this chapter of my life is closing.
Once I’m at the housekeeper headquarters located in the basement, I clock in and move to my locker, shrugging off my damp coat. The faint scent of laundry detergent mingles with the cool air.
A few minutes later, Mr. Martin approaches me. His serious demeanor casts a shadow over me.
“You’re ten minutes late,” he says .
“My apartment was broken into, so I had to go somewhere else. The subway by Central Park was delayed, there was no bus, and I had to resort to rideshare. I called and left a message, so I wasn’t AWOL,” I respond, my pulse quickening as I plead my case.
He shakes his head, the disappointment evident on his face. “I’m sorry, Carlee. Corporate policy is you can’t be late three times in six months. Rules are rules. If you break them, you face the consequences.”
I think about the rules Weston and I made, then immediately broke. I breathe in deeply, attempting to center myself.
“Thank you, Mr. Martin. I appreciate all you’ve done for me,” I say, knowing this is out of his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his tone firm but tinged with a hint of something.
Is that empathy? I can tell he’s upset. I’m one of his best employees, and we both know it.
“Please turn in your ID and uniform,” he says, turning away.
When the door to his office closes behind him, I feel the finality of this hanging in the air.
As I pull my coat from my locker, I have the overwhelming sensation that life as I know it is changing, and there is nothing I can do to stop that.