Chapter 4
FOUR
DEENA
In the first week of February, I was called back to the glass tower that housed Frost’s firm for yet another last-minute travel emergency.
Three people had to make it to New York within the next twenty-four hours to close some big important business deal, and they were coming from three separate continents.
I exited the elevator and immediately sensed the frantic energy on the floor.
A woman in a pencil skirt tottered on high heels, pages fluttering in her hands as she made her way toward the corner office.
The reception desk was empty. A middle-management-type man yelled at a younger man, both of them frowning at a computer screen in a nearby conference room.
The clever people in the office clattered on their keyboards and made themselves look busy.
I helped myself to a mint from the bowl on the reception desk as I skirted around it and followed the sound of many humming voices toward Callum Frost’s office.
Today, I wore wide-legged pants of forest green paired with a black turtleneck.
My wool trench coat flapped around my knees, and my favorite tote bag hung from my shoulder.
I’d worn gold-plated filigree earrings that dangled almost to my shoulders, a luxury I shouldn’t have bought but couldn’t resist. Pretty armor that would protect me better than the boring suit.
I spun one of my rings with my thumb, the movement hidden against my palm, the only indulgence I allowed myself to release some of the pent-up energy that had circled inside me as soon as I got the call to come and help.
January was typically a slow month for me after the franticness leading up to the holidays, and I’d had to tighten up my spending to make it through. This job would give me a few weeks of breathing room, which was the only reason I’d agreed to take it.
At least, that was what I told myself. I couldn’t deny the jump in my pulse that had occurred when I’d seen “Frost Venture Capital” in my email inbox.
Most of the voices came from desks outside Callum’s office, and a few heads popped up to see me walk by.
I ignored them all, noting the empty desk that used to have Miranda’s name on it.
It was clear of the papers and detritus of an active workstation, which meant he hadn’t found a replacement assistant yet—no great surprise.
I knew he was a bear to work for, and I didn’t even work for him.
I found Callum with his large hands flat on his desk, his dark head bent over an array of pages. The woman in the pencil skirt hovered nearby, a laptop balanced on one palm while her other hand danced over the trackpad. “I’ve organized a car to get you to the meeting this afternoon—”
“Send me the details. I’ll check them before you put them in my calendar.”
“Still suffering from terminal micromanagement syndrome, huh,” I said from the doorway, wanting to catch him off-balance.
I’d forgotten the power of his stare, though, and the moment his head snapped up and that icy, intense gaze landed on my face, it was me who wobbled.
I leaned against the doorjamb to hide it and gave him a humorless smile. “I’m here to save the day again.”
The woman brushed past me, evidently seeing my arrival as the perfect excuse to leave the lion’s den.
Said lion straightened, eyes never leaving mine. “Work for me. I still haven’t found a decent assistant, and you impressed me last time. Full-time, full benefits. Name your price.”
Ha. Come, little gazelle. Put yourself right here between my nice, shiny teeth.
I pushed off the doorframe and huffed. “No. What’s all this?” I waved at the papers on his desk. I could see itineraries and familiar logos from airlines and chauffeur companies.
“I’m trying to get my team to this meeting,” he answered, scowling. “It shouldn’t be this hard to book a couple of flights.”
His frustration was delicious. This time, my smile came more easily—but I made the mistake of glancing up at him again.
We were closer now, him behind his massive dark wood desk, me on the short end of it.
My thoughts skittered to the night he called me and what I did when we hung up.
Heat flushed up my neck as a blush warmed my cheeks, and I cursed the fact that my skin reddened so easily.
Especially when his gaze circled my face, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. When he met my gaze again, there was a knowing expression in his eyes. “Why, Deena—”
“This was a tough one,” I interrupted, pulling a folder out of my tote bag and placing it on top of the scattered papers on his desk.
“I’m waiting for confirmation from one of my contacts at the airline, but we should be able to get your London associate on a flight on standby.
They might have to sit in one of the crew’s jump seats, but I’m guessing that will work for you. ”
“That will work for me,” Callum confirmed. Somehow, he’d moved closer. I straightened and took half a step back, my fingers brushing the edge of his desk to steady myself.
He was taller than I remembered, and broader too.
My mind had warped my memory of him, convinced me he wasn’t as commanding and intimidating as I’d thought the first time.
How could he be? He was only human. But my mind had only been trying to protect me from the reality that I’d never met anyone with a presence as staggering as Callum’s.
He smelled exactly the same, and the scent of him went straight to my head. Straight to my cunt.
I never should have touched myself that night. I swore he could tell what his presence did to me. It was right there in the way he stared at me, in the carnal undertones of his voice. “Work for me.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“If I tell you, it might hurt your feelings.”
“Deena,” he cajoled, and when he closed the distance between us, I didn’t trust my legs to support me if I tried to move away.
“We could do amazing things together.” His lips quirked, and the space between my thighs clenched.
That voice. It was deep and rich and velvety, and it made me want to give him anything he wanted.
I’d never had this kind of reaction to a man before.
To anyone before. Power usually made me want to buck, especially when people tried to exert it over me.
And Callum did. He wielded his authority with every tiny facial expression and subtle manipulation of his voice.
He was a man in control of his surroundings.
I should have been repelled, but I wasn’t. I was electrified. I cursed myself for agreeing to take this job.
“I need you,” he murmured.
Oh, how I wanted to hear those words in another context. How would I feel if a man like Callum Frost dropped to his knees in front of me and told me he wanted to worship me? How incredible would it be to be the owner of all his attention, his affection?
But I knew his type—and I knew mine. He was a bully. He was used to getting what he wanted, exactly how he wanted it. And I was just a lowly woman who might be lucky enough to make his life easier while he decided I was worthy.
That little voice in my head that told me it would feel so good to be around him, to soak up some of his magic—that voice had been trained from a young age to expect the least and thank her betters for it.
Never again.
I had clawed my way out of childhood and built my business from a blank sheet of paper with nothing but sheer determination. I would never hand over my hard-fought independence to a man—especially one as intoxicating as Callum Frost.
“I’ll pay you anything you ask,” he said, and I knew from the look in his eyes that he meant it.
I wavered. Just for a second—for an instant—but I did.
My student loans still loomed over me, oppressive and unshrinking.
I’d been paying them off for close to a decade, and somehow I owed more than when I started.
An old power bill was in collections. My credit card debt was a monkey on my back.
I could ask him for enough money to pay them off and then some, and he would agree. I knew he would.
But I’d lose myself in the process.
“I work for no man,” I told him. “I work for no one but myself.”
He hummed, chin lifting. “Is that some sort of feminist thing?”
“It’s just a fact, Frost. I need you to sign these papers to authorize the London flight, and then I can get out of your hair.
” I pointed to the forgotten folder in the center of his desk.
I should’ve sent all this over email and refused to come into the office.
It was too much of a risk to be this close to him.
“What if I don’t want you to get out of my hair?” he asked in that low voice. My eyes flicked up to meet his, and I saw humor in his gaze. He knew what his voice did to me—probably read it in every shade of red painted on my cheeks—and he was using it like a weapon.
“What you do or don’t want is irrelevant,” I said. “Sign the papers and let me do my job.”
He did, and I snatched the folder back. I’d planned on staying here until I got confirmation the travel plans were locked in and worked for Frost’s team, but I was dizzy with the scent of him, and I needed to leave before I did anything stupid.
Like agree to work for him. Or admit I was attracted to him. Or tell him just how fast I came to the thought of him inside me.
My legs were jelly by the time the elevator doors closed, and I crumpled against the mirrored wall as a sigh blew through my lips.
I promised myself that next time he contacted me, I wouldn’t answer. I promised myself I’d block his number.
Ha. Yeah, right.
Eight days later, I broke my promise.