Chapter 5
CALLUM
Itook a long drink of my mimosa and leaned back in my chair, watching Drew retell the story for the third time. He was standing now, acting it out like he was performing a one-man show.
“So I’m standing there,” Drew said, gesturing wildly. “And I’m thinking, okay, this is easy. Just pull the handle. Just a little alarm to get my brother out of there. Clean. Simple. Professional.”
“Professional menace,” I said, shaking my head.
He ignored me and pulled an imaginary fire alarm handle with dramatic flair. “And then holy shit! Every sprinkler in the place goes off like it’s the fucking apocalypse.”
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing again.
The image of Chantilly’s face when that water hit her was permanently burned into my brain.
The shriek. The absolute horror. Her phone had gone flying out of her hand and skidded across the floor.
For someone who documented every second of her life, she’d been too busy saving herself to film it.
“You both are terrible,” Cleo said, but she was fighting a smile. She picked up her coffee and shook her head at us. “Terrible human beings.”
“I didn’t light anything on fire,” Drew protested. “I don’t know why the sprinklers went off. They shouldn’t have. I’m innocent.”
Hollis looked genuinely concerned. “Do you have any idea how much damage that causes? The water damage alone is thousands.”
“I’ll send them a check,” I said.
Hollis didn’t look satisfied with that answer, but he didn’t push it. The damage was already done. There was no point trying to talk us out of it after the fact.
“Tell them about the DMs,” Drew said, sitting back down and reaching for his Bloody Mary.
I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“Oh, this is good,” Cleo said, leaning forward. “What happened?”
“Chantilly’s been messaging me nonstop since last night,” I said. “Started at eleven. Continued through the night. I woke up to too many messages to read. Sixteen. I think that’s borderline illegal.”
“Sixteen?” Cleo’s eyes went wide.
“At first, she was asking if I was okay. Then she wanted to know if I made it home safe. Then she started sending me screenshots of articles about the restaurant incident. Then she asked if we could reschedule.”
“Dude, you’re going to have a hard time getting rid of that one,” Drew said.
I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“Block her,” Drew said.
I shook my head. “Not yet. I’m not trying to piss dad off.”
Hollis shook his head. “You know she’s going to tell people you ghosted her.”
“Let her. I’d rather be known as the guy who ghosts than deal with her.”
Cleo was quiet for a moment, stirring her coffee. Then she looked up at me and was all business. The jokes about my dating life were over. Good.
“Speaking of commitments,” she said slowly. “How are things going with the Blackwell store?”
“Pretty good, actually,” I said.
Our uncle, Buck Blackwell, had built Blackwell Couture from the ground up.
He’d turned it into one of the most recognizable names in fashion.
When he passed, his sons took over and they’d done an incredible job expanding the brand.
They started creating sublabels to bring on new talent, and they had gotten into the wedding business with me, Cleo, and our friend Mandy, who was now a Blackwell herself.
Our luxury wedding line offered high-end everything. Dresses, tuxes, accessories, themes, flowers. The works. We would even plan and host the whole thing, although the price tag for that was astronomical.
It was a great business venture, and it was already making everyone a lot of money.
But now that Blackwell Couture had so many different options for people to buy, they had decided it was finally time to open up their first physical store.
They would sell clothing and accessories, along with select items from our wedding line.
Our cousins had considered opening the first store in New York, where they were all based, but ultimately, they had chosen a gorgeous space in Beverly Hills, nestled between all the other luxury brands where it belonged.
The decision had been made before all the New York Blackwells had gotten married and started families.
Nowadays, flying back and forth across the country several times a week wasn’t sustainable for any of them.
That’s where I came in.
Since I already worked with the New York cousins and I lived close to the new store, they had asked me to oversee the project. Construction crews had gutted the old space. In its place, they had built something worthy of the Blackwell Couture name and legacy.
“The store opening is in a month,” Cleo said. “I need you focused, Callum.”
I frowned. “I am focused.”
“You’re hiding in bathrooms waiting for Drew to commit felonies.”
“Alleged felonies,” Drew interjected.
“That had nothing to do with the store,” I said.
Cleo looked at me. “I’m serious. This is huge for us. For the family. Uncle Buck would have been so proud to see this happen, and you’re almost at the finish line. Don’t screw up now.”
I felt the weight of that. Uncle Buck had been more than just an uncle.
He’d been a mentor, a friend, someone who’d believed in all of us even when we were just kids with big dreams and no idea how to achieve them.
The fact that we were opening this store, expanding his legacy, meant everything. I didn’t want to let my cousins down.
“I’m all in,” I said. “I promise. No more distractions.”
“No more arranged dates?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“God, I hope not. I’m going to have a conversation with Mom and Dad. Make it clear that I’m done being their personal matchmaking project.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “If anything, you need to be lecturing them to leave me alone while I land this project.”
“I think Dad is a little jealous you’re working for his brother’s company instead of his,” my brother Hollis said.
“I like watching movies but I have no interest in making them,” I said.
Cleo nodded. “Dad’s movie studio is great, but who wants to work for their father?”
“Exactly,” Drew said.
“You think he’s trying to sabotage me?” I asked Hollis.
His tanned face took on a thoughtful expression. “Not consciously, but the timing is certainly bad.”
At twenty-seven, he was three years younger than me, and he spent most of his time surfing and trying to perfect his recipe for green shakes. He swore once he got it right, people would be lining up to buy it and the world would be a healthier place.
“You know how Mom and Dad are when they get something in their heads,” Cleo said.
“Apparently, their current idea is that I need to be married off before I turn thirty-one. I have less than a year to go, and I think they’re getting desperate.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going to worry about them. Their quest for grandchildren can wait until after the store is up and running.”
Cleo smiled. “Good. The store is going to be beautiful, but there’s still so much to do. Final inventory decisions, staffing and training, the launch event. I would jump in but I’ve been helping cover Mandy. Being a new mother is no joke. So the whole family is counting on you. No pressure”
“I’ll be there every day if that’s what it takes to finish strong,” I said.
“It might,” she said. “At least for the next few weeks.”
“I’ve got free time if you need me to pitch in,” Drew said.
I nodded his way. “I appreciate that. I’ll try not to drag you off your yacht unless I absolutely have to.”
Drew had made some smart investments in his early twenties, making him wealthy in his own right, even without our parents’ fortune. Aside from keeping an eye on his portfolio, his schedule was generally wide open, and he liked going out on the water in his floating palace.
Drew raised his glass. “To the store.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Hollis said.
“Hear, hear,” Cleo said.
We all clinked glasses. I took a long drink of my mimosa. Feeling like things were lining up for success.
We spent another hour at brunch before everyone went their separate ways. Drew was going to get ready for a date. Hollis had a yoga class. Cleo headed back to her home office to work on vendor contracts.
I drove home, my mind still churning through everything we’d discussed. The store opening was massive. It needed to be perfect. But more than that, it needed buzz. We needed people talking about it before the doors even opened. The kind of organic word-of-mouth that money couldn’t buy.
Well, technically money could buy it, but it always looked fake when you tried. It needed to look organic.
I pulled into my driveway twenty minutes later and sat in the car for a moment, staring at the house.
It was a beautiful place. I wasn’t sure I would call it a mansion like my parents had, but it was big.
Tudor style with beautiful grounds, high ceilings, custom everything.
I’d bought it three years ago, thinking I would find someone to share it with, but life hadn’t worked out that way.
There had been plenty of women, but none of them had sparked that feeling in me that said “this is the one.” So it remained a household of one.
It was obviously more space than I needed. But I liked the full gym in the basement and the indoor pool. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d go down there and swim laps until my arms burned and my mind finally quieted.
I got out of the car and went inside.
The house was silent. No one to greet me. No sounds of life anywhere. Just the echo of my footsteps on the tile floor and the hum of the air-conditioning. I had thought about getting a dog so I’d have someone to greet me. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that kind of commitment, though.
I dropped my keys on the entry table and walked through to the kitchen. The cleaning service had been here yesterday. Everything was spotless. Counters gleaming. Not a dish out of place. It looked like a showroom, like no one actually lived here.
I opened the fridge and stared at the contents. Meal prep containers lined up in neat rows. My nutritionist had them delivered twice a week. Balanced macros, portion controlled, completely joyless.
I grabbed one at random and stuck it in the microwave.
While it heated, I leaned against the counter and thought about Chantilly. All the women my parents had thrown at me over the last six months were so wrong. Every single one of them had been exactly what I didn’t want. Shallow. Materialistic. Interested in my bank account more than anything else.
It was like my parents had never met me. Did they really think that would be what I wanted? There is no way in hell they would have accepted any of those women. My mom was nice, but she could also be brutal.
I’d rather come home to an empty house than come home to a woman I couldn’t stand. A woman that would make my family grimace anytime she opened her mouth.
The microwave beeped. I took the container out, grabbed a fork, and ate standing at the counter. Chicken, vegetables, brown rice. It tasted like cardboard, but it was fuel. That’s all I needed.
My phone buzzed. Another message from Chantilly.
Hey! Just thinking about you. Do you want to try again this weekend? I know a great place in Malibu.
I set the phone face down on the counter and kept eating.
“Fuck no,” I murmured.
My mind drifted back to the restaurant. Not to Chantilly. To the other woman. The one I’d knocked over outside.
She’d been sitting with Jack Montana. That still bothered me, though I couldn’t say exactly why. It wasn’t like I knew her. She didn’t know me.
But there had been something about her. She’d been passionate about whatever she was discussing. And Montana had been on his phone, ignoring her completely.
What a waste.
She’d probably been pitching him something. That’s what people did when they had dinner with celebrities. They wanted something. Everyone in this city wanted something from someone.
Still, she’d seemed different. Less polished than the women I usually encountered. More real.
Not that it mattered. I’d never see her again. But damn, I would love to look into the most incredible blue eyes I’d ever seen one more time.