29. Caleb
Chapter 29
Caleb
“ O kay, woman, we’re past fashionably late. Hurry up.”
I adjust my tie for the hundredth time, pacing by the grand windows at my loft. This gala is an important event for the Merged partners.
While advertising awards are usually a bore, crucial business players will be there, and we have a strategy in place for some important conversations.
And now I might miss some of them, goddammit.
“What’s taking so long?” I down my whiskey.
The sound of her heels draws my attention. When I turn, my breath catches in my throat. Celeste places her foot on a step, her delicate hand on the balustrade, and she descends like an apparition.
Her hair is in loose waves, pinned over one shoulder. She’s radiant in her dress. That fucking dress. Kill. Me. Now.
The deep emerald satin clings to her curves, the slit revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her leg with each step.
The plunging neckline and the delicate cap sleeves emphasize her elegance and allure. She looks like a goddess, every inch of her demanding attention and respect.
Fuck. I must have tightened my tie too much. I’m suffocating suddenly.
She smiles at me when she gets to the bottom of the staircase, and I’m still standing here like an idiot.
She’s stunning.
“What’s up? You were in a hurry and now you’re just standing there.” She checks her watch.
“That watch hasn’t been working for a while now,” I grumble.
She moves her hand behind her back in a protective gesture, but rolls her eyes. “I guess now we know why I’m late.”
She takes my glass from my hand and puts it on the coffee table.
Leaning in, I can practically see her stomach in that neckline. Yeah, she’s stunning, and it drives me crazy.
I swallow hard. “Is this what you’re wearing? ”
She flinches and runs her hands down her hips, like the flowing fabric needs smoothing. “Yes, genius, this is what I’m wearing,” she snaps.
That’s my girl. Always finding her sass when I act like an asshole. “God help me,” I murmur, and without another glance at her, I pass her and stomp to the elevator.
“Well, I’m really looking forward to this evening.” Bitterness laces her voice. No wonder. Fuck, I need to get my shit together.
“Let’s go,” I growl, putting my foot between the sliding doors.
She picks her skirt up and saunters slowly—extra slowly—but with her natural elegance to the elevator, while I stand there like her butler.
A butler to the queen.
Her flowery scent tickles my nostrils when she breezes past me, and I swear I have half a mind to cancel the night. Fuck business. Fuck my business partners. Fuck all the assholes that will ogle her.
Peter waits for us in the garage. “You look lovely tonight, Mrs. van den Linden.”
“Thank you, Peter.” She smiles at him and gives me a death glare before she slides into her seat.
Even my driver’s behaving better than me tonight. Maybe I should really stay home .
The minute I sit down, Peter starts raising the partition.
“I’d prefer you kept it down, Peter. Thank you.” Celeste scoots to the furthest end of the seat, as far from me as possible.
We drive out to the street in silence, the loaded energy filling the air, suffocating me. I adjust my tie. Yet again.
Celeste is staring out of the window, her skin glowing from the streetlights. Fuck, the woman is a vision.
“I’m sorry. You look great tonight. I’ve been on edge. This is an important event.” I reach to squeeze her hand.
She swats me away. “You have no right to comment on my appearance. I can wear what I want. And while we’re at it, don’t fucking give me compliments either. That way, you don’t get confused.”
“Celeste…” I hit the partition button, because Peter doesn’t need to be privy to this.
“I said partition down. I don’t feel particularly safe with you right now.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“Peter, stop the car right now.”
“Good idea. I don’t think I want to go anywhere with you tonight. ”
The car comes to a stop. “Peter, please wait outside for a moment.” I glare at her.
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” she scoffs.
“I’ll be right outside, ma’am.” Peter gets out.
“I don’t quite know what’s just happened,” I say.
“I love this dress, and I love the way it makes me feel. I spent enough time when I was a teenager fighting my body image. With others and with myself. And I don’t need you to comment on my appearance. To con—”
She turns her head away and doesn’t finish. I have no idea what she was planning to add, but it’s like she decided I’m not worth sharing her feelings with.
It’s like a punch to the gut, but I don’t have time to dissect that, because there’s enough to unpack in what she did say.
Fuck, she got it all wrong. I wasn’t… fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Look at me, Celeste.”
Several beats pass where she doesn’t move, her hands trembling in her lap. I yank at my tie’s knot, lacking oxygen.
“Look at me.” I take a chance and scoot closer.
She recoils, but she doesn’t open the door and run, so I take it as a win.
“Celeste, I might be confused and unprepared for what is growing between us… but let me make one thing clear for you. I fucking love your body.”
She finally turns her head to me, her eyes glistening. I reach tentatively and run my thumb along her jawline.
She shivers and swallows, her eyes full of hurt, but something else too. Something that looks like… But that can’t be.
Is she truly scared of me? No, that must have been just part of the heated moment.
“This dress, black swan, makes my cock hard. The problem is, I’m pretty sure it will have the same effect on other men.”
“The question is, what will you do about it?”
Her question rings with importance. I’m thoroughly fucking confused as to what I’ve triggered in her. But it’s clear she won’t give me the complete story tonight.
I’m at a loss on how to move past this, whatever this is, so I lean in to what I know works between us.
“Since I can’t make them not look at you, I’ll just have to finger fuck you during the dinner to make sure everyone can smell who you belong to.”
The words come out naturally, but the need to execute them is stronger than ever. Like claiming this woman is a question of life and death .
Fuck, this arrangement grows more complicated every day.
A flicker of heat passes through her eyes before she sighs, “Idiot.” Like always when she is upset, she says it in French.
I lean in and she tenses. “It turns me on when you speak French.”
She stifles a snort and pushes me away. “Now you’re just cheesy. We better go. You have work to do.”
Shit. I forgot about the event completely. In light of Celeste being upset, it didn’t matter. I don’t even care that she overreacted, or why, as long as she feels better now.
And as Peter gets back in the car and pulls into the traffic, Celeste puts her hand on top of mine.
She doesn’t look away from the window, but it still feels like the world rearranges itself to its regular, comfortable rhythm.
My mind is spinning from all the information and fucking small talk. More importantly, my head isn’t in it, as my gaze keeps trailing Celeste. Not so difficult since she’s the most beautiful woman here.
“If you’ll excuse me…” I try to extricate myself fr om the banker who’s droning on about capital interests. “I need to find my wife.”
My wife. If I could bottle up the feeling behind the word, the ICE would expedite Celeste’s visa.
“I didn’t know you got married, Caleb.”
And I wish I remembered your name.
“Your father hasn’t mentioned anything.”
And now it’s obvious why I don’t know who this man is. He’s been living under a rock, because everyone knows about the fallout of the van den Lindens.
I turn away, done with this loser, and locate Celeste. She’s laughing at something at the bar, but I don’t see the source of her entertainment.
“Here you are.” Xander appears by my side. “Art Mathison’s wife was saying goodbye to someone just now. If we want to get a meeting with him, we better find him.”
Mathison is the best in surveillance and security. Rumor is he made his money hacking, but nowadays his significant riches come from information gathering. Information is money in our world.
Celeste angles closer to whoever she’s talking to, but other guests still block the person.
“Okay, let’s find him quickly,” I growl.
“What’s up your ass?” Xander shakes his head.
I don’t bother to explain myself. Mostly because I don’t really like the answer.
We need Mathison on retainer, but the fucker is as elusive as a taxi in rush hour. We haven’t been able to secure a meeting.
He comes to these events only if his wife forces him. It’s as if she’s socializing her stray dog. I have yet to see him enjoying himself at a function.
“There he is.” Xander gestures toward a large man. He’s glaring at someone who talks to him while his hand rests on his wife’s back.
We weave through the mingling guests in the ballroom, my stomach growling. I can’t believe that we were late, I’ve been networking for an hour, and they haven’t even started the dinner or the awards ceremony.
As we approach the Mathisons, the person they’re talking to leaves.
“Violet.” I bow my head to Mrs. Mathison. The blond with unusual brown eyes is a gallery owner.
“Caleb.” She smiles, and her husband gives me a murderous look. “Art, this is my client, Caleb van den Linden.”
Mathison nods, but doesn’t bother extending his hand until his wife looks at him. Not sure what her look tells him, but he shakes my hand and mumbles something unintelligible .
“Pleasure’s all mine.” What’s this fucker’s problem? “This is my business partner, Xander Stone. We were hoping to have a chat with you.”
His features rearrange into something akin to constipation, but before he can refuse us, Violet chimes in, “I’m going to the powder room.”
She pats his chest, and another silent communication passes between them before she leaves.
“Art, you’re a hard man to track down,” Xander says.
He doesn’t say anything, just glares at us.
Xander shifts from one foot to the other. “We were hoping we could—”
“We want to hire you,” I interrupt. Clearly the man hates small talk and is above social etiquette.
“Merged?” he asks, obviously knowing who we are.
I nod, again hoping no words are the way to win this man.
“Tuesday at ten a.m. Casa Cassi.” He lifts his gaze and his features smooth slightly before he takes a step and leaves us there.
“What the fuck was that?” Xander snorts.
“We just got a meeting.” I watch Mathison join his wife. Something in the way he looks at her bothers me. Or intrigues me.
Like the petite blond can bring this powerful man to his knees, and he would stay at her feet gladly .
A few months ago, I’d have said he was completely pussy-whipped. Now, it just seems like he has his safe harbor.
“What is Casa Cassi?” Xander interrupts my train of thought.
“A Michelin-star restaurant that opens at noon,” I say absentmindedly, my gaze already looking for the woman in the green dress.
I spot her at the bar and move before I think.
“Hey, where are you going? He said ten in the morning,” Xander calls after me.
“That’s a problem for Tuesday. I have an evening to finally enjoy.”
It’s like she’s transmitting a siren song that draws me to her. Knowing all night she’s been around but not on my arm has been driving me crazy.
Whatever happened earlier is still in the back of my mind. I need to make sure she’s okay. I finally make it to the bar.
Her laugh carries to me like a tune that I loved when I was a boy, and every time it’s on the radio, I can’t help but hum along.
“Are you having a good time?” I snake my hand around her waist from behind.
Celeste tenses at first, but relaxes immediately. “There you are.” She sounds all cheerful and genuine, which differs greatly from earlier.
But I’m distracted by her companion.
“I see you met my wife, Corm,” I bark.
“She’s lovely company, and yet you managed to ignore her all night.” The shit-eating grin on his face would not rile me normally. When it comes to Celeste… I don’t even want to finish that thought. Or its implications.
“I was working. Unlike you.” I step closer to her, feeling her body hum beside me.
Corm pops an olive from his drink into his mouth. “I got things done faster.”
Fucker. “I got a meeting with Art Mathison.”
And that wipes the cockiness from his face.
“Boys, play nice together.” Celeste leans in to me and hiccups. “Oops. I think I need to eat something. When is dinner, Cal?”
She’s drunk, and she calls me Cal all of a sudden.
I barely stop myself from punching Quinn in his fucking nose when they luckily open the doors to the adjacent ballroom, and everyone moves.
Celeste turns to get a water. Good girl.
I take the opportunity and hiss at Corm, “Stay away from my wife.” My voice is low, so she doesn’t hear it, but it doesn’t leave any room for interpretation.
“Relax, I just wanted to find what got you to tie the knot so suddenly. Or rather, who.”
My jaw ticks. Fuck, did he get her drunk to find out…? Did she tell him the truth? Is he going to use it against me?
I put all my effort into not showing my thoughts on my face. “It’s none of your business, Quinn.”
“I’m just being friendly.” He lifts his arms in surrender, a cocky smirk on his face.
“He’s been friendly.” Celeste puts her hand on my back, and the rush of ownership that boosts through me should be concerning. But it isn’t. “I hope you don’t mind I told him the truth.”
I snap my head to her. “What?”
“That it was love at first sight.” She winks at Corm.
Little minx. I pull her closer and kiss her temple, inhaling the feel of her. And for the first time tonight, my nervous energy dissipates.
Celeste lets out an adorable moan. Fuck, she’s a cute drunk.
“I’m sure Corm appreciated your candor. Let’s find our table.”
Corm leaves us, presumably remembering that he came with arm candy of his own and should find her before we get seated.
“Drink your water, black swan,” I demand.
“I was pissed about your ‘I hate your dress’ comment, so I had two martinis.”
I don’t hate her dress, but I’m not going to argue that now .
“Only two?” I look at her skeptically. That makes no sense.
“I never told you this, but I can’t hold my liquor. At all.” She stumbles, giggling.
Wrapping my arms around her, I let out a laugh.
I steer us toward the ballroom entrance, and my gaze collides with steel-blue eyes. My laugh dies on my lips.