CALLIE'S POV
I sent the email then ticked the item off my list of things to do. A list that seemed to be growing despite my best efforts. I envied TV lawyers that worked on one case at a time. Sometimes it felt like juggling multiple files at once was my main job. Which reminded me, I needed to meet with Royce about a Foundation issue next week and added that to the list.
My stomach growled, angry I'd worked through lunch again. Twirling a pen between my fingers, I mentally ran through what was in my fridge for dinner. Or should I just stop for take out on the way home?
A ding announced an incoming text message. I looked around the desk for my cell phone and finally located it under a stack of papers.
M: Dinner tonight?
Yes! The perfect solution to my food dilemma with the added bonus of spending time with Marshall. Smiling I tapped out a quick reply.
M: Come over at 6. Bring food
Groaning I tossed the phone down. Great. One more thing to do.
After placing an order at a popular burger joint that I could pick up on the way, I turned back to work.
The next time I looked up at the clock, it was hours later. Where had the time gone?
"Hey, you ready?" Gemma asked, poking her head into my office.
Stiffly I stood and began packing my stuff. "Sorry I completely lost track of time! Just a sec."
With bag and coat in hand, I locked my office and walked with Gemma to the elevator. Some lawyers had their assistants fetch coffee and book meetings. I had mine run interference and ensure I was never alone with Dickwad.
As we waited for the elevator doors to close, Dickwad appeared. "Gemma, I think Rowan needs to see you," he said, preventing the doors from closing.
Panic filled me at the thought of being alone in the elevator with Dickwad.
"Thanks, but I already spoke to him. It's all good," Gemma said, not moving an inch.
He stared at her with dislike as the elevator doors tried to close again. He stepped in at the last moment and the doors slid shut.
"Leaving for the day already Callie?" he asked as his eyes ran over my body.
Everything about the man made my skin crawl, but I forced a smile and just nodded. Gemma moved between us and turned her back to him.
"What are you up to tonight Callie? Hot date?" she asked.
"Yes. Having dinner with my boyfriend." I smiled for real this time, silently thanking Gemma. She was amazing.
Dickwad frowned as Gemma and I continued chatting until the elevator reached the ground floor. With a wave I said good night and hurried away.
As soon as I set the bags of food on the kitchen counter, Marshall started riffling through them. I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. He grunted.
"Bad day?"
"No," I sighed. "Just long."
We took our food into the TV room and settled on the couch. I was jealous of his sweatpants as I tried to get comfy in my dress slacks.
"You're in a better mood today," I said.
Marshall shrugged. "It is what it is. Just looking forward to having it behind me."
Then he chattered on about a new show he was hyped about and wanted me to watch with him.
"This crew of robbers takes over the Royal Mint of Spain. But instead of just robbing the place, they print their own money," he explained. "It's untraceable but totally authentic."
I nodded. "That's brilliant."
As we ate, we debated the robbers' plan and how we'd do it differently. Once the food was gone, Marshall sprawled back on the couch and pulled me against him. I closed my eyes and relaxed into the comfort of his body. This was easily the best part of my day.
After two episodes, I felt Marshall's hand slip under my blouse. His warm palm rested flat against my stomach. It was crazy what his touch did to me. Swallowing hard, I forced my attention back to the TV and tried to focus. But gave up when his fingers began softly stroking my skin.
When the episode ended, he pushed me down on the couch and moved over me. Wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, I pulled Marshall to me and kissed him. His tongue slid past my lips.
Breaking the kiss, Marshall reached back and tugged his shirt off, revealing lean muscle and tattoos. I barely had time to think what an incredibly sexy man he was, before his lips were on mine again.
As he pressed himself into me, my hands slipped under his sweatpants and ran over his ass. Marshall looked down at me.
"Yo. I wanna fuck you bare tonight. You on birth control?"
Warmness spread through me as I imagined how amazing that would feel. Then my practical side took over, evaluating the situation. Disease, pregnancy, commitment. I was good on all three.
"I guess since this is a relationship now, yeah, that would be okay," I said finally.
Marshall laughed and shook his head.
"What?" I asked.
"Don't get it twisted. This is just fucking," he said. "Not a relationship."
My heart stopped beating as my brain struggled to understand. "Why ... "
"I don't have relationships with sluts."
I shoved him off me and stood. Taking a couple steps away, I tried to order my racing thoughts and hurt feelings. How could he be so dense! Anger bubbled up as I turned to face him.
"You've got to stop treating me like a whore!"
"Why? It's what you are," Marshall said, sitting on the couch with a bemused expression on his face.
"No! It's not."
"I've been around and had enough sluts to know," he said, rubbing his beard.
"Are you fucking serious right now?" I struggled to keep from yelling. "You've cheated on multiple partners, slept with countless women and hired at least one escort."
Marshall shrugged, not denying any of it.
"And your last girlfriend slept around with countless guys behind your back," I continued. "Seems to me, I'm the only one who isn't a slut!"
Marshall stood suddenly and got in my face, his voice low and angry. "Leave her out of this," he ordered. "You know nothing about my relationship."
I stepped back but didn't stop. "She cheats constantly yet that's a relationship," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "But I have sex with you the first time we met, then only you, and I'm a slut?"
He stood still, his jaw and fists clenched.
"Don't you see how fucked up that is?" I asked.
"Calling Nat a whore doesn't make you any less of one," he spat.
"Then maybe you should be fucking her!" I said.
"What makes you think I'm not?" Marshall asked, raising one eyebrow.
I didn't know if he was telling the truth or just trying to hurt me. Or both. But it felt like I'd been punched in the gut.
"Don't," I pleaded, shaking my head. "Don't fuck with my feelings just because you're unsure of yours."
"I have no feelings in this. Other than I like fucking you."
"No," I whispered, staring at him. But the face looking back at me was blank of emotion.
In that moment I realized a slut was all he'd ever see me as. He'd formed his opinion of me that first day and refused to see past it. I couldn't be with someone who wouldn't see me as I really was. And my heart broke.
"This ... whatever this is," I said, motioning between us. "Is over."
"Fine," Marshall said, putting his shirt back on. "One slut's as good as the next. And there are plenty."
That said it all. Without another word, I turned and left.
Lying in bed, I wondered how I'd gotten it so wrong. I wasn't some naïve school girl. But I thought we'd moved past him thinking of me as just a slut to something more. We'd hung out with his friends, spent the night together, become closer, shared our problems and he'd even saved me from Dickwad. Despite all that, did Marshall really not care?
Tears ran down my cheeks and I buried my face in a pillow. But smelling him on my bedding only made me cry harder.
Exhausted I lay awake for hours staring at the ceiling. My mind ran through everything I could have done differently. What if I hadn't said yes that day in the hotel room? What if I'd refused Marshall and met him later through my work with the Marshall Mathers Foundation? Would he have viewed me differently? Could we have had something real then?
As the sun came up, I stopped all the second guessing. Maybe things would have been different. But I had to live in the real world and deal with things the way they were.
The reality was I hadn't done anything wrong. As a single adult, I had every right to find pleasure with another consenting adult if I wanted. Regardless of whether I'd known them for five minutes or five years. It was Marshall's perspective that was wrong. And there was nothing I could do about that.
