Chapter 11
Ican’t focus on anything today; work is the last thing on my mind.
All I can think about is that kiss from last night, a kiss that probably ruined me for anyone else.
Blair fit perfectly against me, just like I knew she would.
The fact that my lifestyle didn’t scare her, and even seemed to intrigue her, only makes me crave more. I need more of her.
I understand why she panicked. To her, I’m in love with her sister, my fiancée. The poor girl must be beating herself up over what we did last night. I wish I could tell her that it’s all fake, ease her mind. But I can’t. I signed an airtight NDA.
As much as I want to say fuck it and stop this whole fake engagement thing, I can’t. This is my dream we’re talking about, a dream I’ve worked so hard on and invested so many hours into. Can I really screw that up for someone I’ll probably get tired of once I have her?
It’s just a matter of paperwork before my dream becomes a reality. So no, I can’t give it up when it’s at my fingertips. I just need to fuck her out of my system. That’s it. It doesn’t need to be more than that.
So, I need to stop thinking about her smile, her laugh, and how her eyes crinkle when she’s amused.
I need to stop dwelling on how much she loves it when I bring her flowers and explain their meanings, or how adorable she is when she worries her lip while concentrating on her designs.
Or how she wears her every feeling on her face.
I could walk away. I should walk away. But I won’t.
Because the truth is, I’m weak, too damn weak to let go of her.
I want her. The price is too high, but I still want her.
I want her beneath me, wrapped around me, whispering my name like it’s her only salvation.
I want to bury myself in her until I forget, until she forgets, and the world melts away.
Unable to keep pretending that I’m getting any work done, I let out a sigh and gather my things before getting up and leaving my office.
Checking my watch I see that it’s only 11 AM.
Maybe Blair is up, and I can take her out to lunch.
A smile tugs at my lips as I think about how she’s probably still sleeping.
I have never met someone who loves to sleep as much as Blair.
She could sleep the entire day away if it were up to her, and that’s how you know how bad I got it.
I think it’s adorable. Normally, I find people who sleep away their days downright lazy.
“Mr. Stirling? Sir, do you need something?” Nadia asks, rising to her feet with a slight urgency in her tone as she jogs behind me, her iPad cradled against her chest. Her perfectly styled hair sways as she rushes and the click of her heels echo in the otherwise quiet office.
I glance back at her, irritation and resolve coursing through me. “I’m good, Nadia. Just heading home,” I reply, shortly I push forward toward the elevator, the steel and glass doors glimmering in the overhead lights.
“Home? Sir, you can’t just…” She scrambles to catch up, her voice rising. “You have a conference call in thirty minutes, and then you have a lunch meeting with the board…”
I cut her off, my patience thinning. “I have an entire team of executives. Get one of them to get off their lazy assess and do some work for once.” The words are sharper than I intend, but the weight of the day presses heavily on my shoulders.
I step into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a soft hiss, cutting off her protests.
Thirty minutes later, I walk into my penthouse, drop my briefcase by the door, and head straight upstairs. I’d meant to grab flowers for her, but figured I’d just surprise her after lunch. Right now, I just want to see her.
I’m halfway down the hall when I hear it.
A soft moan.
“Oh…”
I pause, brows lifting as I listen closer.
“Yes… mmm, yes.”
I let out a low, knowing laugh. Is she? Fuck. She is. Blair’s moaning, her voice breathy and desperate. My cock stirs as I picture her in my bed, legs spread, fingers working that tight little pussy. Shit, I should probably knock, offer my help. Hell, offer my mouth.
But then I hear it.
A voice.
A man’s voice.
“Did you miss me, baby?”
And that’s when the world tilts.
There’s another man in my house.
In my bed.
With my girl.
Rage surges, red-hot and lethal, and before I know what I’m doing, I storm down the hall and throw open the door.
“What the fuck?!” The guy jolts like he’s seen death itself. Blair shrieks, clutching the bedsheet to her chest. Both of them still have their pants on, but the intentions are obvious.
“Calvin?” she gasps.
I don’t even look at her. I point.
“Don’t say my fucking name.”
The guy fumbles with his shirt like that’s going to save him. I let him finish. I want him to think he’s got a chance.
Then I move.
One clean punch. Right to the jaw. His head snaps back, and he stumbles.
“Calvin!” Blair screams, and just like that, she’s between us, her tiny frame pressing against my chest, one arm out like she’s some kind of shield. While the other holds up the bed sheet to cover her upper body.
That sends me over the fucking edge.
“Don’t,” I growl through gritted teeth, “ever put yourself between me and another man again.”
She flinches, and I hate that. I hate this entire situation with my whole being.
I turn my eyes on the bastard behind her, dark with fury.
“And you. You’ve got sixty seconds to get the fuck out of my house. If you’re still standing here on sixty-one, I swear to God you’ll be crawling out, if you’re lucky.”
The guy freezes, pale and wide-eyed, but I don’t stick around to see if he stumbles or crawls his way out. One last glance at the scene, at her, before I storm down the hall, fists clenched, teeth grinding.
In my room, I head straight to the bar, rip the cork off a bottle of Hennessy, and pour two fingers before knocking it back in one go, the burn barely cutting through the fire already tearing through me.
“Fuck.” I snarl, dragging a hand over my face as I pace the room like a caged animal, lungs burning, heart racing.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve had women, more than I can count.
Girlfriends I might’ve even loved, once or twice.
But I’ve never acted like this. Never felt like this.
This obsession, this unhinged, possessive rage, is not normal.
Not for someone who prides himself on control.
And over her? A girl too young, too wild, absolutely fucking forbidden?
This is something darker than infatuation or lust. And I should probably see someone about it. A priest. A shrink. An exorcist. Fuck.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Blair’s voice slices through the room.
I spin around, chest heaving. She at least put on a shirt, but she’s barefoot. Her face is flushed, eyes blazing. She’s furious. She has every right to be. And I don’t give a single fuck.
“Is he gone?” I ask, my jaw tight.
“Calvin!” she shouts, throwing her hands up in frustration.
“Didn’t I fucking tell you not to call my name?” I bite out in a low voice. “Especially not when you just had another man in my house. In my space.” I grit out. “Now answer the question, Blair. Is. He. Fucking. Gone?”
“Yes, he’s gone!” she fires back. “Is that what this is about? That I brought someone over? That I was going to fuck him?” Her voice climbs higher. “News flash, I can fuck whoever the hell I want!”
In two strides, I’m in front of her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her body, close enough to want to devour her again, but I restrain.
“Watch it,” I warn, my voice dark and tense. “I don’t have the patience or the energy to deal with your smart mouth right now. Not today.”
She doesn’t back down. Of course she doesn’t.
The defiant little shit squares her shoulders, chin tilted high. “Or what?” she spits back, lips curled in challenge.
That little spark right there lights the powder keg in my chest.
“You think this is a game?” My voice lowers, fury still boiling underneath, but I won’t yell in her face.
My parents taught me better than that, even if right now I feel like I’m on the edge of losing control.
“We had a nice night just last night. I had my tongue down your throat while you moaned. How the fuck did we go from that to you letting another man touch you?”
She just stands there. Silent. Then her eyes shimmer with tears, she tries to blink away, but can’t.
Her voice cracks when she finally speaks.
“Because you’re marrying my sister,” she whispers, her hand clenching at her chest like she’s physically trying to hold herself together.
“Because you don’t belong to me. Because I refuse to be the kind of woman who betrays her family. ”
Her words are brutal. Each one a blade I fully deserve.
“I already hate myself for wanting you. For feeling these… whatever the hell these feelings are.” She sniffles, then lifts her chin.
“So yeah. I’m trying to get over you. If fucking someone else helps, then so be it, and you have no right…
None whatsoever to act like a caveman, because I am not yours! ”
Every word she just said hits like a punch straight to the ribs.
The worst part? She’s right. About all of it.
She’s not mine. And yeah, she doesn’t want to hurt her sister.
I get it, even respect it. But she was also right when she called me a caveman.
Because I want her in ways that make no sense and all the sense in the world. Consequences be fucking damned.
I stand there, watching her fall apart right in front of me. I should comfort her. Wrap her up and tell her she doesn’t have to carry this weight alone. That I’ll figure it out. Fix it.
But I can’t.
Not when her skin still smells like him.
Not when every inch of me is on fire with the image of another man’s hands where mine should’ve been.
So, I take a step back, my pulse pounding like a war drum.
I grab my jacket from the chair. Say nothing. Not even a goodbye.
And walk out.