Chapter 3
THREE
DEENA
Three weeks later, only a few days into the new year, my phone buzzed. An unknown number flashed onto my screen.
UNKNOWN
I need to get to Tokyo ASAP.
I lay back onto my pillows and glanced at the time. It was after eleven o’clock at night, and the world outside my studio apartment window was all darkness, snow, and cold.
I knew it was him without having to verify his phone number. Callum Frost was as annoying over text as he’d been in person—demanding and arrogant and expecting me to thank him for the opportunity to kiss his feet. He’d paid my invoice early, though. That was rare.
Typically, if someone gave me their business card—especially someone who paid their bills on time—I copied their contact details into my phone.
But as soon as I received the payment from Frost’s venture capital firm, I mentally crossed him off my potential client list. I was deep in debt, still drowning in student loans that never seemed to go down despite nearly a decade of regular payments, and I couldn’t afford to turn down a client.
I’d taken on credit card debt to get my business off the ground, and then more to cover some cost of living expenses I hadn’t factored in, and that debt lingered like a bad smell.
With just a few more big clients, I’d be able to get rid of the credit card and attack the student loans.
Then I could save up, and maybe, someday, sock some away for retirement.
I could do it—if I took advantage of every new client that came my way.
But working for Frost, in particular, felt risky in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
My phone buzzed again.
UNKNOWN
Are you there?
Eyes narrowing at the screen, I couldn’t help the huff that slipped out of me.
This man had a lot of nerve. But what else could I expect from a rich, handsome white man who’d probably been given everything in life?
I’d grown up with one as a brother and another as a father; I knew just how deep their entitlement burrowed.
Their privilege was an invasive weed that kept popping up even when you’d nuked your entire garden. Impossible to get rid of.
And maybe it was a character flaw that I couldn’t just let it go.
Maybe it was the memory of the energy in the room when I’d stood in front of him, that feeling of being so alive it felt like I could taste my own death.
Maybe I was just a fool for a handsome, demanding man, but I didn’t block him and move on with my life.
My fingers flew over my phone screen, and I answered his text.
DEENA
I’m sorry. Who is this?
My lips curled despite myself, because even though we were nowhere near each other, two near-strangers hidden in their own little corners in New York City, I could feel the lance of annoyance that pierced him when he read my message.
UNKNOWN
Callum Frost
I gave you my card.
My eyes rolled so hard I got a headache.
DEENA
Of course. Was I meant to frame it?
I jumped when my phone started ringing, the fright making my hands shake, but I forced my voice to remain steady. “Deena Brand speaking.”
“Ms. Brand,” Callum said, his own voice dark and smoky. “Is this how you treat all your clients?”
“Only the special ones,” I shot back, and it was clear that “special” wasn’t a compliment.
“Can you get me to Tokyo or not?”
“Do you always call people close to midnight and expect them to jump to do your bidding?”
“When they charge as much as you? Yes. I do.” His words were deep and low, and they made a full-body shiver course through me. I imagined him sitting at his desk, gripping his phone so hard his knuckles turned white.
I discovered I liked pushing Callum Frost’s buttons.
How would it feel to be in the room with him right now, with those remarkable eyes on me and that storm of electricity snapping against my skin?
It had been so long since I’d felt anything other than desperation, anything other than the merciless fight for survival.
“Tokyo, Ms. Brand.”
I suppressed another shiver. His voice was indecent. “Whether or not I can get you to Tokyo depends on two things.”
“Which are?”
“Your budget, and the time you need to land.”
“Unlimited, and as soon as possible.”
I shifted in bed and grabbed my laptop from the nightstand.
I’d just closed the lid a few minutes before Callum’s text landed on my phone, calling it quits on another eighteen-hour day.
I loved owning my own business, but it was relentless, and I couldn’t afford to slow down.
There was no safety net beneath me if I stumbled.
“Give me a sec,” I murmured, pinning the phone against my ear and my shoulder. “My laptop’s just warming up.”
“Do laptops need to warm up these days?”
I narrowed my eyes as I stared at my screen. “Mine does.” It was a clunky old beast with a mind of its own, but replacing it was an expense I couldn’t afford. And I was not taking on more debt.
He hummed, the sound sending warmth spiraling through my stomach. I hated that his voice turned me on. I hated that anything about him turned me on, because he represented everything I’d left behind. I’d run from a life under the thumb of a man like him and fought to build something for myself.
So why did he make me want to simper and submit?
“Did I catch you in bed?”
I jerked. “Excuse me?”
“I can hear the sheets rustling when you move.”
“Stop listening to my sheets rustle, Frost,” I growled.
His chuckle was dark chocolate, rich and decadent. “I couldn’t if I tried. By the sound of it, you’re alone.”
Heat smarted across my cheeks, and I blinked half a dozen times to refocus on my laptop screen. “That’s none of your business.”
“That’s not true. I need to know everything about the people I deal with.”
Of course he did.
“I’m the one doing you a favor here,” I snapped.
He was somewhere in this city of millions, nowhere near me, unable to touch me, but his words still felt like velvet ropes slithering across my skin, tightening around me to keep me in place for his appraisal.
His amusement. I shrugged, trying to shake off the feeling.
“I looked you up, you know,” he said.
“The more you talk, the longer it’ll take me to find you a flight.”
He laughed again, and it didn’t sound quite as grim as the first time.
“I don’t believe you. You could do your job with your eyes closed, Ms. Brand.
The woman who built her business on her own over the past eight years, with no help and no support, on her own in the big city after leaving her hometown in North Carolina. ”
The thought of this man looking me up made my stomach clench.
It terrified me…but that wasn’t all it did.
I wondered if he’d glared at his screen the way he’d glared when I’d stood before him.
Or maybe he’d been emotionless, extracting every detail from my online presence like a surgeon hunting for cancerous tumor cells.
I shifted in my seat then froze, conscious that he was listening to my every move.
When I spoke, my voice was stilted. “If money is no object, I can get you on a private jet in two hours. Local time in Tokyo will be five-forty a.m. on Wednesday when you land. You lose a day crossing the date line. Will you need a chauffeur on either end of the journey?”
“Please,” he replied.
“Where should they pick you up?”
He gave me an address in Tribeca.
“The car will pick you up in forty minutes. Safe travels, Mr. Frost.”
“I think we’ve graduated to first-name basis by now, don’t you think, Deena?”
The sound of my name on his tongue made my stomach clench. Heat flowed down my thighs, and I tossed my laptop aside so I could squeeze my legs together.
“Call me Cal.”
I would do no such thing. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Frost,” I replied, voice snapping on his name. “I’ll send through my invoice in the morning. Good night.”
I hung up the phone before he could answer, then tossed it across the room toward the small two-seater sofa on the opposite side of my studio.
The device bounced on my faux fur throw cushion, landed on the floor, then skittered under my tiny dining table.
I clenched the sheets, pulled my legs up, and pressed my forehead into my knees.
I was jittery and keyed up. My limbs were restless, and the sound of Callum Frost’s voice still echoed in my ears. His dark, low chuckle. The way he said my name. How it felt to know he was listening to my every move.
I should’ve hated it, but my heart was stuttering and I couldn’t catch my breath.
I was turned the hell on.
I would never speak to him again. I couldn’t go anywhere near him.
It was dangerous to my health. He was everything I’d run away from—the domineering, controlling man who thought he could twist me into knots for his own amusement.
I’d clawed my way out of my old life and built my business in order to gain whatever freedom I could.
I wanted freedom. I wanted independence and security and the ability to live my own life the way I chose.
But I also wanted him. I wanted all that energy and intensity on top of me.
I wanted him to chuckle in my ear, wanted those big hands on my body while I writhed and begged.
I wanted him to tell me to drop to my knees and watch him come undone when I did, and I wanted him to say dark and dirty words while he entered me.
I was such a fucking mess—but I couldn’t resist temptation. My hand slid under my pajama pants, into my panties, where I was already wet and needy. My eyelids fluttered shut, and all I saw was Callum’s face.
This moment would go with me to my grave. No one had to know—especially not him. If he ever found out just how quickly the thought of him made my back arch and a whimper escape my lips, I would never, ever live it down.