15. The Kilt Hits the Fan
THE KILT HITS THE FAN
KARINA
I've experienced some truly mortifying moments in my life.
There was the seventh-grade talent show where my skirt split during my dance routine.
The job interview where I accidentally called the CEO "Mom."
The time I walked through Pike Place with toilet paper trailing from my shoe like a bridal train.
But nothing—absolutely nothing—compares to the arctic freeze of seeing Richard Abernathy's smug face across Duncan MacTavish's crowded ballroom on a balmy July evening, knowing my current boss (his brother) is standing next to me, still warm from our almost-but-definitely-not-happening romance.
"Did you know?" I manage to whisper, gripping Callum's arm like it's the only thing keeping me from plummeting into an abyss.
"No," he replies, his voice dangerously low. "But I'm about to find out what the hell he's doing here."
Dark-haired and green-eyed, Richard spots us now, raising his champagne as his willowy blonde companion—presumably the infamous Anka of knitting app fame—coos at his elbow.
My stomach lurches.
Not with lingering affection, but with the nauseating realization that I spent three years with a man who could embezzle company funds, attempt to steal my identity, and then stroll back into Seattle society like he'd merely been on vacation.
"We should mingle," I tell Callum, tugging gently at his arm. "Maintain our cover. Get information. Not cause a scene that will end up trending on SkySnap faster than your thighs can crush a whisky barrel."
He gives me a look that could freeze helium. "You're never letting that go, are you?"
"Not in this lifetime or the next," I confirm, grateful for any distraction from Richard's approach. "Come on. Let's?—"
"Too late," Callum mutters, his posture stiffening into granite.
I turn to find Duncan MacTavish guiding Richard and Anka directly toward us, his weathered face alight with mischievous glee.
"I thought this might be an opportune moment for a family reunion," Duncan announces. "Especially now that Richard has expressed interest in consulting for MacTavish Global's marketing division."
Richard smiles, all teeth and no warmth. "Big brother! And Karina—looking radiant as always. How are you, darling?"
"Busy.” On instinct, I press closer to Callum. "Your brother's quite demanding.” Tension radiates from Callum like a furnace, and I clear my throat. “As a boss.”
"Missed me, then?" Richard grins, shameless. "The office must be dreadfully serious with this one in charge. All work and no play."
"Yet somehow productivity has doubled.” My smile is cold. “Funny how that works."
Richard's eyes narrow slightly before he turns his attention to Callum. "You're looking well for someone trending as a sexual fantasy on four continents. Tell me, was that a calculated PR move, or just dumb luck?"
Duncan coughs. “Uh, I think I’ll head for the bar right about now…Anka, dear, why don't you show me that sweater pattern you were describing? Marvelous tension technique, you said?"
He steers the blonde away, and the three of us—two Abernathy men and one Peters woman—face off on the floor.
Callum blinks. “So, what are you up to this days, Rich? Beside the obvious?”
Richard shifts on his feet. “Well, like Duncan said, I’ve been talking to him about the marketing division at MacTavish Global. And I’ve…been dabbling in a bit of marketing consulting out in Europe, I’ll have you know.”
"Marketing consulting.” Callum’s accent turns to molasses. "Interesting career pivot for an embezzler."
Richard shrugs. "Allegedly. And it's amazing what contacts one makes in Iceland. Did you know Duncan's maternal grandmother was Icelandic? We bonded over traditional Lopapeysa patterns."
"You bonded over sweaters," Callum states flatly.
"Among other things." Richard turns his attention back to me. "I was just telling Duncan how surprisingly resourceful you are, Karina. Rising so quickly at Abernathy Corp."
The way his eyes glint makes me uneasy, as if he knows something I don't want him to know.
"Some of us succeed on merit rather than nepotism," I manage, proud that my voice doesn't waver.
"Merit…An interesting word. So subjective, don't you think? People aren't always what they seem."
A chill runs through me.
Is he implying something, or am I just paranoid?
"Richard." Callum's voice cuts like a blade. "A word. Now."
"Can't it wait? I was just catching up with my favorite ex." Richard's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Did you know Karina makes these little noises when she?—"
"That's enough," Callum growls, the sound a low rumble that seems to make the floor shake.
"Is it? Because I could tell you so much more about?—"
"Excuse me," I interrupt, sudden nausea rising. "I need some air."
Before either brother can respond, I turn and weave through the crowd, desperate for escape.
The massive house suddenly feels suffocating, Richard's insinuations ringing in my ears.
I find myself on a terrace overlooking Puget Sound, the night air cool against my flushed skin.
Stars have emerged above, indifferent to human dramas below.
The water stretches dark and mysterious, dotted with lights from boats and distant shorelines.
"Idiot," I mutter to myself. "Complete and utter idiot."
"I hope you mean my brother and not yourself."
I whirl to find Callum standing in the doorway, his expression is in the dim light.
"Both of us.” I turn back to the railing. "Him for being... him. Me for ever thinking he was worth my time."
Callum moves to stand beside me. "People make mistakes."
"Three years is a bit more than a mistake. It's a full-blown catastrophic error in judgment."
"You're being too hard on yourself."
I laugh bitterly. "Am I? Because your brother just implied... things. Knowing Richard, he's probably feeding Duncan all sorts of stories."
"About what?"
I stare out at the water, avoiding his gaze. "About me. About us. About anything he thinks might cause trouble."
“He’s a liar. And you’re not. Period,” Callum says firmly.
My anxiety ebbs slightly, though not completely.
There are still secrets between us—things I can't tell him.
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
From inside, the orchestra strikes up a waltz, the music spilling onto the terrace like liquid silver.
"Dance with me," he says, extending his hand.
I blink. "What?"
"Richard is watching from inside. This will drive him insane."
“Again.” A startled laugh escapes me as I glance over my shoulder. "You want to make your brother jealous? That's surprisingly petty for you."
“I’m a man of many talents. Dance with me."
I place my hand in his. "I thought we agreed this couldn't happen."
"This is strategy.” He draws me into his arms. "Purely professional."
"Of course. Nothing says 'professional' like slow dancing with your boss to spite his brother."
His hand finds the small of my back, warm through the thin fabric of my dress. "Consider it corporate espionage."
"Is that what we're calling it now?"
We move together across the stone terrace, the music guiding our steps. Callum leads with surprising grace, his body moving in perfect rhythm against mine.
"In case you're wondering," he murmurs close to my ear, "Richard is indeed watching. And he looks furious."
"Good," I whisper back. "Though I'm a bit concerned about what he might be telling Duncan."
"Let him try. Duncan's not stupid enough to believe anything from a man who embezzled from his own family."
My anxiety ebbs slightly. "You sound very certain."
"I am." His thumb traces small circles against my back. "Besides, I happen to know Duncan has an eight o'clock tee time tomorrow with the head of the SEC's regional office. He won't risk associating with Richard beyond this little power play."
I pull back slightly to look at him. "How do you know his golf schedule?"
"I know everything about Duncan MacTavish, including the fact that he's watching us right now and looking extremely displeased that his attempt to cause friction has backfired."
I glance over Callum's shoulder.
Sure enough, Duncan stands at the terrace doors, Richard beside him, both men observing our dance with barely concealed frustration.
"Wow, they look like someone spilled haggis on their dress shoes," I say.
Callum's full lips pull upward. "That's oddly specific."
"I've been spending too much time with your grandmother. She has colorful expressions for everything."
"She once described a board member as looking like 'a constipated badger with tax troubles.'"
I laugh, genuinely this time, relaxing into his arms. "Perfectly reasonable assessment, I'm sure."
The music swells, and Callum surprises me by executing a flawless spin that brings me back against his chest, closer than before.
"Show-off," I accuse breathlessly.
"Strategic. Richard just left in a huff."
"Mission accomplished, then?"
"Almost." His eyes hold mine. "I think we've learned all we can tonight. Shall we make our exit?"
Twenty minutes later, we're back aboard the Fidelity, the engines humming as we pull away from MacTavish's dock.
The Seattle skyline glitters in the distance, a constellation of human-made stars against the inky July sky.
I lean against the railing, watching the water part beneath us. The night air carries the scent of saltwater and diesel, oddly comforting.
"You're quiet," Callum says, joining me at the rail.
"Just processing," I reply. "Seeing Richard was... unexpected."
"For both of us." His voice holds no emotion. "Did what he said bother you?"
I consider this. "Not in the way you might think. I'm not hung up on him if that's what you're asking."
"I wasn't," he says, though his expression suggests otherwise.
"It's more that..." I search for words that won't reveal too much. "He has a way of making me feel like I don't belong in this world. Your world."
"And what world is that?"
"This." I gesture toward the luxury yacht, the retreating mansion, the entire glittering ecosystem of wealth and power. "The world of people who've never had to wonder if they can afford both rent and groceries in the same month."
Callum is silent for a moment. "You think I've never struggled?"
"I think your struggles and mine have been fundamentally different," I say gently. "And that's okay. But it's why Richard could always make me feel... less than. Like I was an imposter playing dress-up in designer clothes."
He turns to face me fully. "You belong exactly where you are, Karina. You've earned it."
The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tight.
If only he knew the whole truth.
"Even standing here with you?" I ask, unable to stop myself.
"Especially here with me."
I'm suddenly aware of how close we're standing, how the yacht's gentle rocking keeps bringing us into brief contact.
"About our other agreement," I say carefully. "The one about nothing happening between us..."
"Strictly professional," he murmurs, though his eyes drop to my mouth.
"Absolutely.” I sway closer. "Which is why this would be a terrible idea."
"Catastrophic," he concurs, fingers brushing mine on the railing.
"Career-ending."
"Reckless."
"So reckless."
And then we're kissing, his mouth hot and demanding against mine.
This isn't the careful exploration of our first kiss or the heated but restrained encounter in his hotel suite.
This is hunger unleashed, weeks of tension finally breaking.
His hands tangle in my hair, my carefully styled updo coming undone as I press myself against him.
I dimly register Craig announcing from the bridge that he's setting the autopilot and retiring to the crew quarters, but I'm too lost in sensation to care.
"This changes nothing," I gasp when we break apart for air.
"Absolutely nothing," Callum agrees, trailing kisses down my neck. "Purely physical. Getting it out of our system."
"Exactly," I murmur, already working on his tie. "One time. Then back to normal."
"One time," he echoes, lifting me effortlessly. "Starting now."
As he carries me below deck to his private cabin, I have the fleeting thought that I am falling for the wrong brother again.
Except this time, it doesn't feel wrong at all.