17. Saar
Chapter 17
Saar
Celeste
I’m bored, Caleb doesn’t let me go to work anymore.
I like it better when he’s on your case rather than mine.
Lily
Why can’t you work?
Celeste
I’m officially a beached whale. I can’t reach my toes.
Cora
Why do you need to reach your toes?
I agree with @Cora. I don’t touch my toes. (laughing emoji)
Lily
You’re beautiful @Celeste.
That’s true.
Celeste
And bored out of my mind.
Cora
Fresh croissants in the morning, anyone?
Celeste
I’ll try to sneak out. (eye-roll emoji)
S leep.
Sleep.
Sleep.
No matter how much I repeat it, it eludes me. I stare at the ceiling, because every time I close my eyes my mind spirals, and it’s not upward.
I don’t trust you.
Why did it hit me so hard? It’s not like I trust him. Do I? There are glimpses in our existence—in this unlikely forced partnership—when I feel like he’s the only person in my court.
My brothers are well-meant but overbearing. My friends always have my back, but they have been busy, and I’m not good at this opening-up spiel.
Somehow, Corm draws the truth and honesty out of me—its ugly face, its vulnerable certainty. It’s like his perception of me is so damaged, I don’t mind pretending.
He does, however, pull the worst out of me as well. I’ve never yelled as much as I have with him. But then, it’s not like I’ve ever spoken up.
‘Keep your head down’ used to be my jam. That was the way to deal with my life. I had fun, of course, but I didn’t think much about what I truly wanted or needed.
Now I have all this free time to think only about that. It’s an all-consuming, dark place to be in.
I don’t trust you.
I don’t trust myself. Lately. Or have I ever? I went from under my father’s thumb to Vito’s care. It was such a lovely change, I never thought twice about actually standing up on my own two feet. For myself.
In the absence of any real direction in my life, I’d welcome having something going well. It could have been my sex life, but even that went south before it even started.
Maybe it’s for the better. Sleeping with Cormac Quinn would lead to heartbreak only. Or another confidence crisis.
Groaning, I reach for my phone. Six o’clock. I don’t think I slept at all. I drag myself out of my bed and put on sweatpants and an old T-shirt.
Trudging out of my room, I find Corm’s bedroom door open. His bed is empty. I guess he had his fun at The Velvet Room. Asshole.
Why does it bother me? Why would I even be jealous?
The hard-to-swallow truth is that being in his shadow in public is a comfortable place. But having his attention in private is ecstatic. Wonderful. Orgasmic.
I pick up my dress from the stairs, ignoring the dull ache coiling inside me. I’m hollow again. Well, I was hollow, and then I was filled for a moment, and it was addictive.
While I make my coffee, I scroll through my contacts and dial Vito. I haven’t heard from him, and frankly, I’m getting worried.
I get his voice mail again, but then I remember a big fashion event in Asia at this time of the year. I should just let him work. I should go to Italy and find out firsthand what the status is.
Yes, that’s a good idea.
“Good morning.” Livia comes in. “Do you want me to wash this?” She picks up my dress from the stool where I must have dropped it without thinking.
“Good morning, Livia.” I take a sip of my coffee. “No, I’ll take it to the cleaners.”
“I can do that for you. It’s a beautiful dress.”
“I made it.”
Her eyebrows shoot up and then she smiles. “You knitted this dress? My, my, you’re quite talented.”
Even with the lingering heaviness pressing on my chest and stomach, I manage a smile. God, I’m a glutton for praise. “I can make something for your grandchildren.”
“Really? That would be nice.”
“Okay, I’ll start with scarves, and then, after I meet them, I can make them sweaters.”
She stares at me, blinking. “You want to meet my grandchildren?”
I shrug. Shit, I’m probably crossing boundaries here. It’s not like I would be around long enough to meet her family. “Or you can take their measurement, so I get it right.”
She nods, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe I’ll bring them around when Mr. Quinn isn’t here.”
I snort. “That would be for the best.”
“Things have changed since you arrived.” She walks to the pantry and comes back with a bottle of vinegar. She pours it into a bucket she filled with water. “I don’t like those fancy cleaning concoctions. Good old vinegar is the best.”
“What do you mean, things have changed? Besides me destroying the living and dining room, I mean.” I bite my lip, and she laughs.
“Yes, you keep him on his toes for sure. But at least he seems alive now.”
Alive? If devils were alive, perhaps. “He seemed plenty alive based on his media coverage.”
I lean against the counter and sip my coffee, hoping she will share more. I should not care. I should stay away from anything Cormac-related. Especially pulling information from his trusted employee.
Livia clearly knows a side of him not available to the rest of the world. I’m perversely invested in learning more from her.
“After his father passed, he was a shell of a man. Before that, he was living life like it was nobody’s business, but he was never reckless. After that, something changed. His mother doesn’t come by anymore.”
“Since I arrived?”
“No, no, since the funeral. And those two were close. She’s a lovely woman, and despite his grim personality, you know a man is a good apple if they treat their mother well.”
I shouldn’t be having this conversation. What is it good for? Last night was a mistake, and forming any attachment to him would be a disaster. I should just leave it. “Did they have a falling out?”
And, apparently, my mouth doesn’t follow my mind.
“I don’t know what happened. I hear him on the phone with her from time to time, but usually just making excuses. Do you want me to make you breakfast?”
“No, that’s okay. I think I’m going to go out.”
“Mr. Quinn said to make sure you eat well.” She raises her eyebrow, pursing her lips with kind reproach. I imagine that’s what it would be like to have a caring mother or grandmother.
“He did, did he?” I shake my head, smiling.
“Yes, he texted me last night and said you need to eat breakfast.”
My hand stops on the way to my mouth, the coffee wafting to my nostrils. “He texted you last night about my breakfast?”
“But of course. He reminds me all the time when he can’t be here. You’re not a model anymore, my dear; you should indulge a bit.” She winks and raises her finger to stop me. She opens the cabinet and puts a large plastic bottle in front of me. “And you should take these.”
I glance at the iron supplement, and my heart echoes in my temples. “I’ve got to go, Livia, but I promise to grab some breakfast outside.”
“Well, take these.” She shakes two pills into her hand.
I take the supplement and leave her in the kitchen. Overwhelmed. Confused. Touched.
I grab a sweatshirt and head outside, my soul soaring and hurting at the same time. He doesn’t trust me, but he makes sure I eat, and buys me supplements. Two weeks ago, I’d have concluded this was his ultimate power trip at controlling me.
But having spent some time with him, I wonder if it’s more a genuine care than anything else. God, the man is confusing.
Fresh air lifts my spirits as I walk aimlessly for almost an hour. People rush around, jogging, dropping kids at daycare, on their way to work. Everyone moves with purpose while I just roam the streets.
But I don’t feel as lost as I did last week. Just moving, engaging in people-watching gives me some sense of routine. Maybe that’s what I need. To get out of the house, to lay order over the chaos.
Without making a conscious decision, I find myself in front of the shelter. Through the front window, I glimpse Ethel behind the counter, typing away.
I push the door open. “Good morning.”
“Saar.” She takes off her glasses, standing up. “What brings you here? And this early.”
“I don’t know. Can I visit Coco?” I shrug, feeling stupid all of a sudden. I should have called ahead and made an appointment. I don’t want to slow these busy people down.
“But of course. Go right in; you know where to find her.” She sits and returns to her paperwork.
And just like that, I have something to do.
Half an hour later, Coco wakes up in my arms and stretches her paws, letting out a loud mew.
“She’s hungry.” Ethel enters the room.
I put the little one into her box. “Thank you for letting me sit with her.” My eyes land on a small, white fluffy dog eyeing me from his cage.
“Anytime. She’s yours already.”
I wish. I crouch by the white dog. “What’s your name, cutie?” He scoots farther into his corner.
“He was abused and doesn’t yet trust anyone.” Ethel sighs. “His name is Rolfie.”
“Someone names their dog Rolfie and then they hurt him?” My heart constricts as I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“Human cruelty has no boundaries.”
I push to stand, and Ethel gestures for me to stay still. “Look, he crawled closer.”
Carefully, I lower myself to the floor, and sure enough, Rolfie did move. “What should I do?”
“Nothing. Just stay with him if you want. He usually cowers, so him moving toward you is a great step forward. But I understand if you’re busy.”
“I can stay a bit.”
This may not be my life’s purpose, but it’s a purpose that warms my soul. Perhaps Rolfie is helping me more than I’m helping him.
“Wow, not making much effort.” Cora waves her hand in front of me.
I look down at my hoodie covered in cat hair and some other stains. “What? I combed my hair today.” I shrug, grinning, and make my way to our table where Celeste munches happily on a croissant.
She kisses my cheek as I sit beside her. “I think Cora makes the best pastries in the world.”
“These are from a supermarket,” Cora whispers, and Celeste’s eyes widen.
I bite my lip, trying not to smile. “You’ll give her a heart attack.”
Cora laughs, and I join in while Celeste scowls at us. “Don’t do that to me. I can’t have my blood pressure spiking.”
“Does Cal have a monitor attached to you so he knows everything about your bodily functions?” I try to keep a straight face.
“Merde. That hasn’t occurred to him yet. Don’t tease him about it, because he just might…” She takes another huge bite, flakes of the soft dough falling to the plate.
“Never have I pictured my brothers settled with families. They were such players.” I shake my head.
“Don’t remind me he slept with other women.” Celeste pokes my ribs.
“But all that practice, and now you’re reaping the benefits.” Cora laughs, sitting across from us, and I shudder at the idea of my brother having sex.
“Are you reaping the benefits yet?” Celeste turns to me.
Shit. “I reaped one, and then we had the worst argument.”
They both stare at me. “You slept with Quinn?” Celeste shuffles her chair to face me.
I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Are you okay? Why did you argue?” Cora asks.
“I’m okay. It was just a hookup. But then he asked me to delete my last post.”
“What?” Cora shakes her head and stands up as the door opens. When she realizes it’s Lily, not a random customer, she plops back down.
“That post is gold. You can’t remove it. It’s public service,” Celeste says.
Lily slides into the empty seat. “I’m sorry I’m late. Are you telling them about the wedding?”
I look at her, deadpan. “Hardly. Corm doesn’t even want to set the date until I remove the post.”
“What do you mean?” Lily looks at me, frowning.
“What a controlling bastard.” Celeste pushes the empty plate away.
“But—” Lily pulls her phone and scrolls. “What about this? It’s trending even better than your last one.” She turns the screen to me.
I blink, my jaw slacking.
“What is this?” Celeste turns the phone to her.
My heart pounds in my temple as I pull out my phone and open my feed. My most recent post is a photo of Corm kissing my hair.
It’s a fake candid shot in his kitchen, and we look like a real fucking couple. Based on my clothes, I recognize it from the magazine photoshoot.
And while I recognize the origin of the shot, I don’t understand how it ended up in my feed.
Fucking Betsy. Have they hacked my account? My stomach churns. I fist my hand and read the caption.
“I don’t want you to feel lonely ever again. Let’s be real together.” That’s what Corm said to me, and I can’t be happier to share the big news with you: We eloped.
Three red hearts follow the short caption.
“Motherfucker,” I bite out.
A woman in a sharp suit regards me, scrunching her nose, and steps to the farthest corner of the elevator. The mirror in the back gives me pause.
I rushed to the Merged offices from Cora’s. I should have probably dressed up for this battle, but it was fury driving me here.
The door opens on my floor, and I step out. Roxy waits for me.
“Saar, wow, I love your take on casual. Corm is in a meeting.”
She has her dreadlocks in a high bun on top of her head. Wearing a black pencil skirt combined with a black T-shirt with a leather jacket, she looks like the rebel she is. Dressing up while saying fuck-you to the dress code.
“I love your style too.” I smile.
“Do you plan to wait for him? Maybe I can find a boardroom for you.”
I’m not sure if she wants to remove me from the reception area to avoid altercation, or to save everyone else from seeing me looking like I… well, like I spent my morning sitting on the floor of an animal shelter.
I need to play this smart. He’s always been a step ahead of me. “Actually, Roxy, is Cal here?”
“Yes, you can wait in his office.” She perks up. “Follow me.”
People turn their heads as I walk through the swanky offices. I wonder how I smell, because Coco peed on me, and I forgot about it while I sat with Rolfie. Okay, I should have gotten changed, because these clothes are crippling my authority. Goddammit.
“Your sis is here.” Roxie doesn’t bother to knock and practically pushes me inside Cal’s office before she closes the door.
Cal looks up from his computer. “What’s wrong?” He stands up, rushing to me.
“Nothing is wrong,” I lie. I don’t want him to problem-solve my way out of this.
He kisses me on both cheeks. “Why do you look and smell like you fell into a dumpster?”
“I spent the morning at an animal shelter,” I bite out.
“You’re volunteering? That’s great.” He gestures to a sofa in the corner. “What’s up? I have a meeting in ten minutes.”
Instead of sitting, I walk to the wall of windows. “You have a nice view.”
“I know.” A tinge of impatience laces his tone.
“I need you to get me on the list at The Velvet Room.” Only once I blurt out my request do I feel strong enough to face him.
I swallow a chuckle when I meet his gaze. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother shocked. He studies me for a moment, and then he laughs. “Are you out of your mind?”
“You used to be a member. Why is it okay for you and not for me?” I fold my arms over my chest.
At Corm’s house, I saw the membership card on the console table, and I remembered seeing the logo before. I’m bluffing, but I’m pretty confident Cal has connections there.
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Why do you want to go to a sex club?”
“To have sex.” I raise my chin, smirking.
He shudders. “I don’t want to know about my little sister’s sex life. What the fuck, Saar?” He walks around his desk and sits, turning toward his monitor. Is he dismissing me?
“Since when are you such a prude? Cal, please, I need to go to that club.”
He shakes his head and turns to me. “I don’t know why I’m asking, but why to that particular club?”
“Corm is cheating.” I lean against his desk beside him and pick a folder, flipping through it mindlessly.
He snorts and snatches the folder from me. “You’re not in a real relationship.”
“He’s an asshole. Come on, Cal, I want to catch him there, so I have something to hold over him. He can’t afford a messy breakup, fake or not.”
“I can’t afford your messy breakup. Merged’s biggest deal hangs on his reputation, unfortunately. I need Corm’s image fixed as much as he does.”
“Then get me on the list.” I insert a threat into my tone, surprising myself perhaps more than him.
“Why can’t you just wait for a divorce?”
“Because I’m not married.”
He frowns. “What do you mean? The latest post was a genius PR step. People are dubbing you Sarmac already.”
“Yes, the problem is, my fucking fake fiancé hacked my feed and planted that post. I need a marriage certificate, otherwise father’s lawyer won’t even take a meeting with me. Corm is not setting a date to control me.”
Cal stands, his chair rolling across the room. “I’ll fucking break his jaw.”
“Stop it.” I grab his shoulder. “Stop fucking treating me like a little girl. I can take care of myself. I can fight my battles. Just get me on the list.”
He glares at me, a war brewing behind his eyes. “You know what kind of men go there?”
“Men like you and Finn?” I tilt my head.
He grinds his teeth. “How do you even know he would be there?”
“He’s been there more than he’s been at home,” I quip.
I don’t tell him he probably has me followed, and if I go to The Velvet Room he will know, and probably show up. God, I hope he will show up.
“What an asshole. What if someone finds out? It’s like he’s bent on fucking up the deal.”
“My point exactly. Let me catch him there and hold it over him, so he finally behaves.”
Cal grinds his teeth a bit longer, contemplating. “I’ll make some calls.”
“Thank you.” I kiss his cheek.
“Don’t fucking tell Finn about it.” He shakes his head. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret it.”
“I love you, Cal.” I open the door and collide with a wall of muscle.
The familiar scent of a lover that fucked me six ways to Sunday swallows me. I look up and meet Corm’s stormy gaze.
The feel of his chest under my palms as I try to find my balance throws me off. It’s like I hate him with everything in me, and the minute his cologne hits me and his touch wraps around me, it’s all out the window.
He narrows his eyes and sniffs. “Why do you smell like piss?”
I groan. “I went to visit Coco.”
“Is that a code for something?” Cal groans from behind me.
Corm doesn’t move, and for some outlandish reason, I don’t move either. I should. I definitely should.
It’s like his body has magnetic properties, and we’re both charged to attract. I can’t move. We stare at each other for several beats, the air between us filled with something carnal and frustrating.
With every breath my nipples brush his chest, and those traitors remember him.
“Do you mind?” I finally grit out.
“Let me walk you out, darling.” He gives me the most dazzling fake smile.
“I can find my way.”
“I insist.” He steps to the side and takes my hand. He fucking takes my hand.
“Are you worried I’ll run?” I spit, trying to reconcile the cocktail of feelings that range from how-normal-it-is-to-hold-hands to don’t-fucking-touch-me.
His touch is electrifying, setting tiny but potent explosions in my stomach, my chest, my core. Everywhere. His hand burns mine.
“I’m pretty sure you would. Why are you leaving already?” He raises my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles.
I look around, bewildered. The few people working in the glass-walled offices don’t seem to notice us, so what’s with the performance? And again, my body remembers his lips. His hands. Him.
“Do you want me to stay?”
“Didn’t you come to yell at me?” He stops, forcing me to look at him. His thumb moves up and down my hand.
I hate how he thinks he can play my body like a violin. It doesn’t matter if he can. He totally can, but that doesn’t give him the right to toy with me like this.
The source of my confusion lies elsewhere though. His gentle stroke of my hand isn’t sexual. It’s not the touch of a hungry man. Or a man who wants to declare his claim.
It’s just a mindless touch, familiar, comfortable. Does he even know he’s doing it?
I snatch my hand away from him. “Elopement was the brilliant Betsy’s idea of how to shut me up?”
He shrugs and calls the elevator. “You wanted a fast wedding.”
I glance at the receptionist and grit out quietly, “But we’re not married. I need the marriage certificate.”
“Yes, you do.” He smirks.
He leans down, snakes his arm around my waist, and lowers his lips to my ear.
The man has done this on multiple occasions, and my body revels in it like it’s the first time. Jesus.
“As soon as I can be sure you’ll deliver on your side of the bargain, we’ll elope for real.” He drags his cheek against mine, inhaling and probably consuming all the oxygen because I can’t draw air into my lungs.
Taking advantage of my hesitation, he captures my lips. Taking no prisoners, his tongue dives in. I part for him, hungrily joining in the dance.
For a beat.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I jerk my head back. I would step away, but he holds me in a vise-like hold.
“Fuck you.” I glare at him.
He smirks. “Maybe I’ll come home for that tonight.”