Chapter 11 #2
“She’s gorgeous,” I admit without hesitation. No point in denying the obvious.
“Right?” Joshua grins. “And she’s super smart, too. Used to work for Sotheby’s before taking over the family yacht club. Perfect combination of brains and beauty. I tried asking her out, but she turned me down. She’s gay.”
“She is?” I blink at him.
“Has to be,” he sighs, gesturing to himself. “I mean, all this wasn’t able to turn her on.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s such a guy thing to say. She doesn’t want you, so she’s gay. Maybe you’re just a turnoff to her.”
Joshua considers my words, then scoffs. “Can’t be. Women find me irresistible.”
“Yeah, the crazy ones,” I sneer. “Face it, Joshua. She’s way out of your league.”
Steven looks over to study the picture, and he glances at Caleb. “Caleb could get her.”
Joshua looks over Caleb with a critical eye. “Maybe. But if she didn’t want me, she’s not going to want him.”
“Oh, give it up, Joshua.” Steven rolls his eyes.
I’m still leaning over Caleb’s shoulder, supposedly looking at the phone, but I’m hyperaware of how close I am to him. When I shift slightly to get a better angle of the screen, my hair brushes against his cheek, and I hear his sharp intake of breath.
“Impressive resume,” I say, trying to focus on the professional aspects rather than the way Caleb’s warmth is seeping through his shirt into my palms.
“Caleb certainly seems to think so,” Joshua says with a knowing grin. “Look at him! He’s practically drooling.”
I glance down at Caleb’s face and see that he does look affected. His jaw is tight, his breathing slightly elevated, though I suspect it has less to do with the photo and more to do with my proximity. But he doesn’t correct Joshua’s assumption.
“She’s very attractive,” he says neutrally, his voice rough.
A hard knot forms in my belly at his non-denial. I straighten up quickly, removing my hands from his shoulders, and the loss of contact feels like a physical shock.
“Well,” I say briskly, “I’m sure you’ll charm her this afternoon.”
Iris looks between us with a slight frown. “It’s a professional meeting. We’re there to finalize event logistics, not to—”
“Of course,” I interrupt. “Very professional.”
But as Iris walks away and Joshua returns to his desk, I can’t shake the irritation building in my chest. The way Joshua teased him about having a crush. The way Caleb didn’t deny it.
Not that I care. I don’t care at all.
By three-thirty, an idea has formed, a particularly satisfying way to get back at Caleb for this morning’s parking spot and chair sabotage. I spend the last half hour of work timing everything perfectly, watching the clock, waiting for the right moment.
First, I make my preliminary move.
“Iris?” I approach her office, where she’s reviewing some files. “Quick question about this afternoon’s meeting. If something came up and only one of us could attend, would that be a problem?”
She looks up from her papers, considering. “Well, you’re both familiar with the project details. As long as whoever goes can speak to all the logistics, it should be fine. Why?”
“Just thinking about contingencies,” I say casually. “You know how unpredictable things can be.”
“Smart thinking. Either of you could handle it alone if needed.” She goes back to her files. “Just make sure Marina gets all the information she needs.”
Perfect.
At three forty-five, I make my real move.
“Caleb?” I call out as he’s checking something on his phone. “Can you meet me in Conference Room B for a quick pre-meeting strategy session? I want to go over the craftsmen timeline once more before we see Marina.”
He glances at his watch. “We need to leave in ten minutes.”
“This will only take five,” I say sweetly, gathering my notes and laptop. “I just want to make sure we’re presenting a united front. You know how important first impressions are.”
He frowns, looking between me and our desks. “Can’t we just discuss this here? We’re literally sitting three feet apart.”
“Too many distractions,” I say quickly, gesturing vaguely at the office around us. “I want to focus without Joshua interrupting every five minutes or Flora offering us her oatmeal cookies.”
As if summoned by her name, Flora looks up from her desk with a bright smile. “Do either of you want the cookies? I have a lot left over.”
“See?” I say to Caleb, trying not to laugh at the perfect timing. “Exactly what I mean.”
He still looks skeptical but follows me toward the conference room. “What specifically do you want to go over? The timeline seems pretty straightforward.”
“Just some details about the craftsmen coordination,” I say, opening the door to Conference Room B and gesturing for him to enter first. “I want to make sure we don’t step on each other’s talking points.”
He walks into the room and settles into one of the chairs around the oval table, still looking skeptical. “Alright, but we really do need to make this quick.”
“Of course,” I agree, moving toward the whiteboard and picking up a marker. “Wouldn’t want to be late.”
I start drawing what looks like a timeline on the board, complete with dates and arrows, taking my time to make it look legitimate. “So I was thinking we should present the heritage angle first...”
“Eve,” Caleb says, tapping his fingers on the table. “Can we speed this up? This is all stuff we’ve already discussed.”
“Just want to be thorough,” I reply, adding more unnecessary details to my fake timeline. “You know how much is riding on this meeting.”
I can hear him shifting in his chair behind me, checking his phone again. Perfect. He’s getting antsy.
“Actually,” I say, capping the marker, “I think I left my notes in my desk drawer. Let me just grab them real quick.”
“Eve, we don’t have time for—”
But I’m already at the door, and before he can finish his protest, I slip out into the hallway and immediately grab the door handle from the outside.
The conference room doors have exterior locks for security purposes, something I’d noticed during my two years of working here but never had occasion to use until now.
I turn the lock with a satisfying click.
“Eve?” Caleb’s confused voice comes through the door. “The door won’t open.”
“Oh, no!” I call back, already starting to walk away from the door, a smile spreading across my face. “That’s weird. It must be stuck.”
“Eve, this isn’t funny. We have a meeting in five minutes.”
“I know!” I say, moving further down the hallway so my voice sounds appropriately distant. “I’ll get maintenance to look at it right away. Don’t worry—I’ll handle the meeting with Marina myself!”
“Eve!” His voice is louder now, with an edge of panic. “Don’t you dare leave me in here!” I can hear him rattling the door handle frantically, the sound echoing through the hallway.
“I’m sure they’ll have you out soon,” I call cheerfully, now at a safe distance from the conference room. “I’ll give Marina your regards!”
“LOPEZ!”
The sound of his fist pounding on the door follows me as I make my way to the elevator, and I can’t help the little tune that escapes my lips. I’m actually humming as I wait for the elevator to arrive, feeling more satisfied than I have all day.
The elevator dings, and as the doors slide open, I can still hear the faint sound of Caleb banging on the conference room door. I step inside and press the button for the garage level, the tune turning into full-blown whistling as I descend.
“Have fun in your little timeout,” I murmur to the empty elevator, still whistling as the doors open to the parking garage.
This is what he gets for messing with my parking spot and sabotaging my chair. Sometimes karma needs a little help.
* * *
The yacht club is everything I expected—polished wood, brass fittings, and the kind of understated luxury that screams class and wealth. Marina Delacroix is even more stunning in person than in her photo, all elegant lines and confident handshakes.
“Ms. Lopez,” she says warmly, leading me toward her office. “I was expecting your colleague as well.”
“Oh, Caleb got held up with an urgent matter,” I say smoothly, still feeling pleased with myself. “He sends his regrets.”
The meeting goes perfectly. Marina walks me through the event space, shows me the backup plans for weather contingencies, and confirms all our vendor coordination details. We’re just finishing up the final paperwork when I spot a familiar figure bursting through the yacht club’s main entrance.
Caleb looks like he just ran a marathon. His hair is disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and slightly damp with sweat, and he’s slightly out of breath as he scans the room frantically. When his eyes land on me sitting calmly at Marina’s desk, his expression shifts from panic to anger.
“Excuse me for just one moment,” I tell Marina with a sweet smile, getting up from my chair.
I meet Caleb halfway across the elegantly appointed lounge, and he immediately grabs my arm, his grip firm but not painful.
“Did you run all the way from the club’s parking lot?”
“You,” he says through gritted teeth, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. “Locked. Me. In.”
“Did I?” I blink innocently. “That’s terrible. How did you get out?”
“Jake had to come unlock the door,” he hisses, and I can see a vein throbbing in his temple. “I missed the entire fucking meeting.”
“Language,” I tsk, glancing around at the refined atmosphere of the yacht club. “We’re in a classy establishment.”
He looks like he wants to strangle me, but because we’re in public, he settles for leaning close enough that only I can hear him. “This isn’t over, Princess.”
“I should hope not,” I say cheerfully. “You look like you could use a drink after all that running around. Can I buy you something? A nice cold beer perhaps? You look a little... warm.”
His eyes narrow dangerously, but before he can respond, Marina appears at my elbow with that polished smile of hers.
“Caleb?” Her voice changes completely, shock rippling across her features. “What are you doing here?”
I watch as both their expressions shift into something uncomfortable. Caleb goes completely still, like a deer caught in headlights, and Marina’s perfect composure cracks entirely.
“Marina,” he says, and I can hear the resignation in his voice. “Hi.”
“I can’t believe it,” she breathes, her hand flying to her throat. “I had no idea—When I was setting up the meeting with Thalvyn Maritime, I never thought...” She trails off, clearly flustered.
The air between them suddenly feels charged with history, and I’m standing there like a third wheel, watching this awkward reunion unfold.
“Small world,” Caleb says stiffly.
“Very small,” Marina agrees, and there’s something raw in her voice that suggests their history didn’t end well.
I clear my throat loudly. “So you two know each other?”
They both turn to me, and I can see Caleb calculating how much to reveal.
“We dated,” Marina says simply, and I feel my stomach tighten. “A few years ago.”
“Right,” I say, forcing a bright smile. “Well, isn’t this cozy. Still think that drink is a good idea?”
Caleb looks between Marina and me, clearly wishing he could be anywhere else. “Actually, I should probably head back to the office.”
“Oh, don’t leave on my account,” Marina says quickly, her professional mask sliding back into place. “It’s ancient history.”
The tension is so thick, I could cut it with a knife. I find myself studying Marina’s face, looking for any sign of lingering feelings, and hating myself for caring.
“Well,” I say finally, “this has been... educational. Marina, thank you for the meeting. Everything looks perfect for the launch.”
“Of course,” she replies, still looking slightly rattled. “If you need anything else, just call.”
As we walk toward the exit, I can feel the weight of unfinished business hanging between Caleb and Marina like a storm cloud.
“So,” I say once we’re outside, unable to keep the edge out of my voice, “ex-girlfriend, huh? That must have been awkward for you.”
Caleb stops walking and runs a hand through his disheveled hair, muttering under his breath. “You know what? I’m going to take you up on that drink offer.”
Before I can process what he means, his hand wraps around my wrist, and he’s pulling me down the street.
“What are you doing?” I demand, trying to tug free, but his grip is firm.
“Getting drunk,” he says grimly, his pace quick and determined. “And you’re buying, since this whole clusterfuck is your fault.”
“My fault? How is running into your ex-girlfriend my fault?”
“You locked me in that conference room,” he says, spotting a dive bar across the street and steering us toward it. “If I’d been at the meeting from the start, I could have handled the Marina situation professionally instead of bursting in like some kind of lunatic.”
The bar he drags me into is the complete opposite of the yacht club—yellow-tinged lighting, floors that hint at decades of spilled drinks, and patrons who look like they’ve found their second home. It carries the distinctive aroma of old wood and lived-in authenticity.
“Two whiskeys,” Caleb tells the bartender, finally releasing my wrist. “Make them doubles.”
“I don’t drink whiskey,” I protest.
“You do today.” He slides onto a barstool and finally looks at me, his blue eyes stormy. “You wanted to buy me a drink, Princess. Here’s your chance.”
I settle onto the stool next to him, studying his profile. His jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, and there’s something almost vulnerable about the way he’s gripping his glass.
“So,” I say carefully, “Marina seems... nice.”
He lets out a harsh laugh. “Nice. Right.” He downs half his whiskey in one gulp. “She’s a lot of things. Nice isn’t one of them.”
The bartender sets my drink in front of me, and I take a tentative sip, wincing at the burn. “Bad breakup?”
“The worst.” He turns to face me, and there’s something raw in his expression that catches me off guard. “You know what? Forget Marina. Forget the meeting. Forget all of it.” He raises his glass. “Here’s to payback, Princess. You got me good today.”
I clink my glass against his and take a sip, surprised by his admission. “You’re not angry?”
“Oh, I’m furious,” he says, but there’s almost a smile playing at his lips. “But I’m also impressed. That was a hell of a move, locking me in that room.”
The whiskey is starting to warm my chest, and I find myself relaxing slightly. “You deserved it.”
“Probably.” He signals for another round and leans closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne mixed with the whiskey on his breath. “But now I owe you one, and I always pay my debts.”