15. Celeste
Chapter 15
Celeste
Saar
How is married life? LOL
Me
(eye roll emoji)
Cora
I’m sure it’s better than my work life.
Me
What’s wrong?
Cora
Lily is a disaster.
Saar
No surprise there. Back to my inquiry: is my brother still alive?
Me
Disposing of his body now.
@Cora I’ll come to have a coffee later. Moral support.
Cora
Love you.
Saar
I’m stuck in Stockholm.
Cora
Not feeling sorry for you at all (kiss emoji)
I jerk my hand to lock the portafilter in Caleb’s fancy espresso machine that has more functions than a cockpit’s control panel.
The two weeks after our wedding have been the longest in my life. And I’ve been through some shitty times.
Like when I moved to New York and lived on the streets. And that was an improvement compared to my life in France.
Never would I have imagined I’d be more unsettled living in luxury, with no care or need in my life.
Actually, therein lies my problem, because all those tough situations before sparked the strength and desire to improve my living conditions.
There’s nothing to improve about my gazillion thread-count sheets, the most comfortable mattress, or the space in my room that could double as a dance studio for my practice, if it wasn’t for the soft carpet.
And yet… anytime I’m out of my room, it’s like I’m wa lking on eggshells. Because my roommate/husband is everywhere.
In his low-hanging sweatpants and a tight tee on the sofa.
In his bespoke suits before leaving to negotiate his deal.
In his running shorts going to or from the gym.
Naked in his shower.
Okay, that one’s only in my imagination when I hear the water running.
Caleb’s ocean breeze aftershave assaults my senses, mingling with the freshly ground coffee. I’m almost afraid to turn, because my vibrator is currently charging, and I can’t alleviate my lust once I get an eyeful of the sex personified who is my husband.
Especially since our last bonding encounter on the sofa. To my dismay, Caleb somehow became more sexy, more delicious, more seductive after I suggested we take care of our needs in his other apartment. Separately.
Not that I have anyone to take there. Or that I want him to take someone else there. The idea spreads through my stomach like acid. But what did I expect, that my sexier-than-God husband would simply quit sex for the duration of our marriage?
“Good morning.” I can hear the smirk in his voice .
He’s enjoying this taunting. But I’m not getting on my knees for him. He had his chance. Oh, who am I kidding, I would get on my knees and beg at this point.
If only I could return to my apartment and never see him again after.
No awkward moments, no disappointment.
I spin around. “Good morning.”
I swallow. Jesus. Holy. Christ.
There he stands.
In his underwear.
Damn, the man is built like a Greek god, a physical perfection. His broad shoulders and sculpted chest lead to a taut stomach. His abs are so well-defined, my hand almost shoots out on its own to trace the delicious ridges and panes.
The ripple of his muscles with his every breath is mesmerizing. With his shoulder propped against the fridge, he watches me with a smirk.
“Like what you see, black swan?” He winks and saunters to the coffee machine.
Too close to where I stand. As he leans forward—or I imagine he does—I barely stop myself from gasping.
His freshly showered skin is still a bit wet, and he smells like… well, like a wet dream. And I know because I’ve been having them on repeat since we’ve been living together .
I brace myself for what’s coming. Why is he crowding me?
“What are you—” I start.
He hits the button to stop the filtration and steps back. Sure enough, my mini cup is overflowing.
“Could you”—I flail my hands in the air like that will give me a better command of the English language—“could you just… merde… cover up.”
He pours the coffee into the sink and starts preparing a fresh cup. It’s coffee-making porn. I should sell the idea.
“Why would I cover up in my own house?” He looks at me with fake innocence.
“It’s just… it’s—”
The words die on my lips. Or they were never born, because my brain clearly stayed in my room today.
But even if I could still speak, my voice disappears as Caleb steps closer again. Even closer than before, I think. His scent envelops me, his breath fanning my face.
I step back, hitting the counter, and he follows, dropping both his hands on the surface behind me.
I’m caged, suffering from the lack of oxygen, language, or common sense. While drowning in an abundance of desire.
I meet his eyes. They’re darker than usual. He lowers his face closer to mine, a mere inch away, and drags his nose across my cheek, inhaling indulgently.
My heart contends for a world record in the number of beats per millisecond. I lick my lips and part them, but still no voice. Or the willpower to push him away.
“It’s—” I stammer. Apparently this morning, it’s is the only phrase in my vocabulary.
“Making your pussy weep for my cock?” He whispers in my ear.
Not until you beg me for it on your knees because your pussy weeps for my cock.
All this time, he’s been teasing me. His behavior has been deliberate. To make me beg.
The bastard. Game on then.
I push at his chest, ignoring how his skin burns and invites me, or how his muscles mold under my touch. “I’m not getting on my knees.”
Even his smug smile is sexy. “Maybe we can amend that. You don’t need to get on your knees.”
I duck and slide under his arm to gain some distance. “I’ve never agreed to any conditions. I offered sex, you refused. I don’t beg as a general rule, let alone when I don’t need something.”
He snorts and folds his arms across his chest, his biceps bulging. “Don’t you? Are you telling me if I checked now, you wouldn’t be soaked? ”
“No,” I lie. “Don’t worry about me. My pussy is well-serviced, thank you very much.”
I take a sip of my latte and spit it back into the cup. “I’m sorry, Cora, but you need to let her go.”
Cora puts her hand over her mouth, tears brimming in her eyes. “No wonder she agreed to minimum wage. But I can’t afford anyone else. Besides, I feel sorry for her. She needs the job.”
“Maybe I can ask Caleb to come around and advise you on how to increase the profitability of this place. He ran hotels and restaurants, so he understands these kinds of operations. There must be a way for you to increase your revenue enough so you don’t have to slave here constantly.”
“I don’t know. I’m sure he has his hands full. It’s been two years. If I haven’t figured it out by now, I don’t know if I can.”
“Hey, don’t give up. Do you want me to look at your books and see if there’s room for improvement? I used to run a viable dancing studio.” I shrug.
“Would you?” Cora smiles. “I really need a break.”
“Of course, but you need to let Lily go.”
Cora whimpers. “I know.”
Abandoning our drinks, we watch Lily work. Or rather, we wince every time she drops, spills, or breaks something.
“I can’t do this. I’m going to help her.” Cora stands, but then she hesitates and sits again, this time with her back to her fumbling employee.
“You know what, I’m going to enjoy ten more minutes of freedom before I’m chained to the counter again. How are you? Are you back on stage now?”
“No, we didn’t get the paperwork sorted in time, but Caleb’s lawyer promised it should be any day now. He even had a conversation—I wish I was a fly on the wall for that one—with my boss, and my job is safe until I get the permit.”
“Caleb really stepped up, helping you like that.”
And driving me mad with his allure. “Yes, he’s been really great. But it’s such a different life. I need milk, so I just punch it into an app and it gets delivered. I was searching for a yoga class near me, and he laughed, called his concierge, and within minutes, I got an email with options and schedules. And he gave me a credit card.”
“For household expenses?”
“No, he put no limitation on it. I haven’t used it, and I don’t plan to. It shocks me how anything essential is hard work and optimizing for me, and easy for him. Like he can focus on what matters to him because his money takes care of the rest. I could buy into that concept.”
“Couldn’t we all? And Saar worried you’d kill each other.”
I snort. “We still may, Cora. We still may.”
I consider telling her about my attraction to Caleb, but decide against it. I trust Cora, but I can’t risk her telling Saar.
That doesn’t stop me from thinking about Caleb that way. Especially since he makes sure I do. The confident bastard thinks he can win this game.
“Maybe it’s just a pent-up unresolved attraction the two of you feel.” Cora dives into the topic I’m trying to avoid.
“The man gives me whiplash. There’s something about him that attracts me, besides his body”—I practically moan—“but he can be so infuriating.”
“So a typical man?”
I chuckle. “I guess.”
“You should just sleep together and get it out of your system.”
“And then live together for three years like nothing happened?”
“Three years? That’s how long it takes to get a green card?”
I nod. “I can’t just sleep with him. What would Saar say? ”
“What do you mean? Saar would be happy for you. But if you’re worried, then she doesn’t need to know. It’s just sex.”
“I think my vagina is connected to my heart. I’m not saying I’d fall in love, but feelings would be involved on my part. I’m sure for him I’m just a convenient hook-up.”
“Yeah, but what is your other option, ignoring the attraction for three years? He’s been driving you crazy, so even if you feel more connected to him after you sleep with him, you’re safe. If history has shown us anything, it’s that he’ll piss you off soon after.”
Cora shrugs, kisses my cheek, and leaves to take care of her business before Lily destroys it all.
Her words ring true—in theory. Only Caleb hasn’t pissed me off since our wedding.
I trudge out of the elevator and find Caleb on the sofa on his tablet. He shed his suit jacket and tie, his gray button-down sleeves rolled up.
He must have just arrived because he usually showers and changes before lounging around.
“Hey.” I drop my handbag on the console table.
He doesn’t look at me, nor greet me. Standing up, he throws his jacket over his shoulder and starts toward the stairs. “There’s Thai in the fridge.”
I stare at the empty staircase a while after he disappears. What was that about? Is he mad at me? That was the most lukewarm, downright aloof, welcome I’ve ever received from him.
Definitely a three-sixty from this morning. But then, a man like Caleb can have any woman he wants. Of course, he’s tired of chasing—not that he was chasing—me. That’s for the best, anyway.
And yet, the idea of other women spreads bitter poison inside me. Merde, I hate jealousy. And now I’m annoyed with Caleb for sparking such a rotten emotion.
I warm up a coconut curry, and sit in the kitchen at the breakfast table by the wall of windows overlooking Central Park.
Eating mindlessly, I think of my conversation with Cora. Can I just have sex with Caleb and move on?
Not that he looks like he’s interested anymore. It might have just been a shitty day, and his behavior has nothing to do with me.
His footsteps mobilize me into action. I jump up and start tidying the kitchen, so I can go to my room and avoid him.
I sense him behind me without even looking. As I push the dishwasher door closed and straighten up, he steps to my side and hands me a sheet of paper.
“Have a look and let’s put it on the fridge.”
“What am I looking at? A cleaning schedule?” I squint at the squares with dates and our names alternating in them.
“You suggested we come up with a system to use my other place, so here you have it.” He drops a set of keys and a key card on the counter and storms away.
I let go of the paper like it burned me. What the hell? This morning he was still seducing me, and now he wants to fuck other women?
He gave up so quickly. I follow him to the living room. He opens a cabinet in his bookcase and pours himself a whiskey.
“What’s going on?” I can’t blame him for deciding to cut his losses and take care of his needs, but something is off here.
He looks at me like I’m an annoying insect. “Nothing’s going on. You asked for a system. Every second day, you can bring your boyfriend to the fuck pad. Just be discreet for your own sake. I’m already committing a felony here, so let’s not get caught.”
There is so much to dissect in his statement, starting with the cold and detached delivery. My mind latches on to two words. “My boyfriend?”
He takes a gulp. “Or whoever services your pussy . ”
My pussy is well-serviced, thank you very much . I laugh. “Are you jealous?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He passes me, heading to the hallway under the stairs that lead to his office. “I have a business call to make.”