Eight in the morning. Eloise should walk into her office any second. And like clockwork, she did. And she also did her famous middle finger salute to the camera.
I chuckled, muttering, "Good morning, sunshine."
So, what are we wearing today? Will it be another see-through white, off-white, pink, baby yellow, or baby blue blouse with a black push-up bra? And a pencil skirt showing off your amazingly slender body?
She removed her jacket, hung it up, then faced the camera, making me chuckle when she unbuttoned her shirt halfway down, then adjusted her breasts to help them peek through the opening of the shirt.
And there's the double-fisted two-finger salute. I knew that was coming next.
Today, she's wearing a light pink blouse, a white bra, and a white pencil skirt. My naughty nun looks hot as fuck—and like an Easter egg dipped in pastel colors.
"You're looking mighty sexy today, Eloise," I muttered, lifting my cup of coffee to my lips. "Nothing like the Mother Teresa you looked like the night we fucked like wild rabbits."
For the last few months, and ever since the nightclub incident, that's all she's worn—skirts and see-through blouses. I'm not stupid. I know what she's doing. She's doing everything possible to get me to come into the office. Still wanting to duke it out with me.
Well, my beautiful green-eyed, dirty, naughty nun. It's not working.
You're going to have to do something other than that. It's tempting, for sure. But nope. I know myself. If I were to go into the office and see up close what I've missed since our night in Florida, it wouldn't have anything to do with work. Instead, it'll be me bringing you into my office, bending you over my desk, and fucking the disobedience out of you.
And that I can't do.
Since her email telling me to fuck off again, I've been a little distant with her to give her time to cool off. Not that I want to, and not that I want to give her the satisfaction of thinking I'm listening to her. I only did it because I've noticed that when I get her all riled up as I have, her work isn't the same as when I've left her alone.
And it's been tough avoiding Eloise because I enjoy fucking with her. I enjoy pissing her off. And I enjoy her telling me off. And it's so unlike me to enjoy this type of thing with an employee. Or any woman, for that matter.
One and done. That's how I like it.
But Eloise. There's just something about her I can't just stay away from. And that's what's pissing me off. She's what's pissing me off. And the reason she pisses me off is that ever since Florida, I haven't been able to look at another woman. I also haven't gotten laid because of it.
For some reason, my dick, eyes, and mind only want Eloise. And that's a problem—a huge fucking problem. I don't do relationships, and it's angering me that my dick is telling me otherwise.
A mocking laugh bellowed from my chest just thinking about it. "A relationship. With Eloise? I don't think so."
I already know that once she sees who I am and what I am to her, she'll go nuclear on me. I saw the fury in her eyes and the smoke billowing from her ears when she destroyed the voodoo doll, so I can only imagine what she'd do to me after she sees I'm not Cal, I'm Callum—her boss. And because I've learned how she thinks, I can hear her now; she'll accuse me of spying and stalking her in Florida. She'll make accusations of me not believing her about her grandmother's death and that I followed her there to see if she was lying to have some time off work for a short vacation.
And that's not the case either—I was part of my friend's wedding. I did, however, send Eloise's mother flowers after they returned home, apologizing for her mother's death. And because Eloise is so hell-bent on thinking I have no heart, I didn't want her to find out I sent the flowers. So I signed the card from a family friend.
I also know Eloise well enough to know that she'll accuse me of working her to get her in bed, because I knew who she was just to fuck with her mind.
Obviously, that wasn't the case. Had I known it was Eloise, that night would never have happened. But it did. And now my dick refuses to let me forget about that night. And that's pissing me off.
I need a distraction—a good fucking distraction.
Tonight's masquerade night at The Night Lovers Club. Just the kind of distraction I need. Even though I've never picked up a woman during masquerade night, tonight's different, and I'm in a situation I've never been in before. So, I'll just have to go in there and pick up some random chick with a spectacular body, bring her to a room, and fuck the woman—fucking her hard until I know Eloise is out of my mind and to teach my dick that he is not for one woman but for many.
The only thing is, I'm not one to fuck anyone without a face. I need to see who my dick is thriving to please, and without a face, that can't happen. In addition to fucking a woman more than once is a no-no for me.
Fuck.
All day I contemplated what to do. And finally, I gave up thinking after seeing the time. I have a tux fitting tonight for Rory's wedding. And since Aaron is more like me, maybe I can get him to talk some fucking sense into me.
Only when I noticed I had left earlier than I needed to. I did something out of character for me; instead of just heading straight to get fitted, my Range Rover turned in the opposite direction—to the office—an hour before everyone left, which meant I'll run into Eloise.
Since Eloise will still be at the office, I know just how this will go in my favor—finally. And by her picking a fight with me in front of all her co-workers, everyone in the office will see just how insane she is, and they'll be begging that she be fired. Yeah, yeah, I know. Wishful thinking. But with Eloise raising my blood pressure to the point I'll blow, it'll give me all the fuel I'll need to go to the club and find a woman to fuck her out of my system—and regretting nothing.
This is perfect!
"Hello, Callum. What brings you on by this early in the day?" Benson, the security guard at the door of the skyscraper, asked as he held the door open for me.
"I've got some things to do in the office."
He looked at me strangely.
I looked at Benson as I swung my keyring around my finger, rolling back and forth on the balls of my feet. Trying to come up with a reason why I was here. "Yeah, I know. It's not like me to be here this early to work. But I've got a tux fitting tonight and something going on afterward that I have to get what I need to be done right now."
I don't know why I just gave him an excuse about why I was here; it's none of his concern—to make it sound better, that's why, you idiot.
God, I need a fucking drink.
I saluted Debra, the information desk lady, on the way to the elevators, then as I stepped into it, I hesitantly hit the eighteenth floor. I can't believe I'm about to show Eloise who I am.
This will go over like a fart in church—I just know it.
Something is definitely wrong with me, and I know Emma will immediately call me out on it the second I enter my office space.
And I got just the look I expected to see from her when she heard the door shut behind me. "Callum!" She roared. Looking at me as if she was warning everyone in the office that I was there. And if they're screwing off that, they better make it look like they're working. "What a surprise to see you!" she smiled.
"I've got some things to take care of." I stood by her desk, looking around at everyone working. "And since I'm here, I might as well take what you have for me right now."
She looked at her computer, saying, "Well, I already emailed you what you needed, and Eloise grabbed everything else before she left."
My heart stopped beating at the sound of Eloise's name, but it started beating like it was about to break through my chest and become exposed after hearing she had left. "What do you mean, she left?" I asked loudly, everyone in their cubicles looking at me like I was some deranged lunatic.
"She had to leave to meet with the seamstress to ensure her dress was altered correctly."
My head shook. "Dress?"
Emma's hands raised, and she motioned them to look like a dress when she said, "You know. A dress. As in a bridesmaid dress? Do you not know what that is?"
"Yes, I know what a dress is, Emma. What I mean is, why was she allowed to leave before her shift was over? Couldn't she have scheduled it after work? Or even this weekend?"
"I guess not," she shrugged. "She tried changing the date and time, but the only available time she could go was now, and she had already rescheduled the fitting multiple times—because of you," Emma added, with a hint of resentment in her tone.
"Because of me? What did I do?"
Emma tapped her cheek. "Let's see. Well, you keep piling work on her like she's some magician that can get everything you gave her done with a snap of a finger. So not only is she working all day here. She's working all night after she gets home to prove to you she can do the job. You know, because you told her she must learn to work under pressure."
I groaned. "I'm not giving her that much work."
Emma's face fell, shocked by what I said. "Ha! Who are you trying to kid? Yourself? With all the work you insist she does for you, I also considered hiring another assistant for you, just to lighten some of the load on poor Eloise, which reminds me. You need to lay off her. She's overworked, underpaid, and it's clearly showing on her face how worn out she is."
Even though Emma made me feel guilty for overworking Eloise, I refused to let it show. And I refused to let her know in my tone when I said, "She's not overworked. The little devil is making you believe I am..." I turned, and as I walked away, I said, "Anyway, I've got some stuff to do quick, and then I'll be out of your hair."
Instead of heading to my office, I detoured and entered Eloise's. I stalked over to her desk to see if she had a notepad I could use, and when I saw one beside the computer, I wrote her a love note—one I knew she looked forward to getting since it's been a while.
Eloise,
FYI, this is your second warning from your favorite boss. And guess what happens the third time you receive one from me? So, next time you have to leave early, you must let me know before you go. Right now, it's Friday afternoon, about an hour before you're scheduled to leave, and it's not appreciated. You said you read the employee handbook? You might want to reread it—the section about leaving before your shift ends.
Callum
***
"You look stressed out," Jace said, looking at me while the tailor took his measurements.
I don't know why we're getting measured again. Five months ago, we were measured for Jace's wedding. And two months ago, we were measured for Hudson's wedding. Nothing has changed. But whatever. It is what it is, and they want to guarantee the tuxes fit without taking our word for it.
"I am stressed, like you wouldn't believe," I admitted, heavily sighing.
I'm so fucking stressed; it's ridiculous. Usually, when I'm stressed, sex fixes it. But my stupid conscience has refused my right to do so. And anytime I spot an attractive female and start heading her way to put on the moves, my fucking conscience gets the best of me, and I change direction.
My subconscious mind insists my dick can only be exclusive to a particular female—and her only. And that's a problem I need to fix. Immediately.
"Callum stressed?" Aaron mocked, bellowing a laugh right after. "He's never stressed."
You're mistaken, buddy. Totally wrong.
I craned my head around Hudson, looking Aaron's way, lifting a brow, and raising my arm as far as it'll go. "My stress level is way up to here. Six pitiful and excruciating months' worth of stress. And it's been giving me a massive headache, a migraine that refuses to disappear."
As Aaron studied my face, his eyes squinted. And then he smiled, as he had just figured out what was happening. "You're talking about your assistant, aren't you?"
Unfortunately.
"Bingo. Every day has been a chore of having to deal with her. And every day, she tests my patience. She just doesn't give up!"
"No freaking way! Did Callum Harrison fall for his new assistant?" Greyson asked, looking shocked yet impressed.
I don't think so.
"That's hardly the case," I huffed. Because I haven't.
"Oh yeah? Then why did you have that new security camera system installed? Last week, when I stopped by, you were watching her on your laptop. And you were... smiling," Greyson said, humor in his voice.
Yeah, that day, Eloise was being quite the brat. She was constantly looking at the camera and flipping me off—All. Damn. Day. Calling me a stupid motherfucker. A coward. Yelling, I was such an asshole because I had a small dick and that it was half the size of a baby carrot.
And it didn't help that when Greyson came in, Eloise had just gotten done doing something bolder than her usual routine. She walked around her desk and faced the camera. She sat on the edge of the desk with her bright green eyes on the camera, hoisted her skirt up to her hips, then laid back and began rubbing her hand over her pussy.
It was hot as fuck, and I wanted nothing more than to go to her and tell her what else to do to make her orgasm.
"I was smiling because she kept flipping me off. Something she does quite often throughout the day. Every day."
"You fell for her, admit it," Hudson piped in, grinning widely. "I saw it in Florida when you were explaining to us about her. You're smitten with her. And it got worse after installing those cameras."
Whatever.
"She's beautiful; I'll give her that. But she's a nudnik. A thorn in my ass. A three-finger proctological exam. And an annoying fucking hemorrhoid that I can't get rid of."
My friends all laughed.
"I'm glad you all think it's funny."
"It's funny because you're refusing to believe and admit you have a thing for her," Greyson said. "You know damn well you found the one woman that takes your breath away."
I shook my head. They're wrong. And Greyson is way out of line. I do not have a thing for Eloise McKnight.
I repeat. I do not have a thing for Eloise Mc-Fucking-Knight.
Do I?
No. No. No, I don't.
I only enjoy upsetting her to see what kind of insult I'll get from her next. Because that little firecracker sure knows how to give it. And she damn sure knows how to take it.
Aaron reached over Hudson, shoving me. "The only way you'll know if you have a thing for her is if another woman can't make you hard. And you, my friend, have never walked away from pussy. Not since Victoria."
Nice. Really fucking nice.
"You had to go there," I groaned, balling up a fist, my eyes closing with annoyance. "I've asked you all before not to bring up her name, and within these last few months, you all have managed to bring up her name every chance you get. Why?"
Greyson formed his arm around me. "Because it's time to move on, brother. You need to let her go, man. Fucking every woman in sight is not the way to move on from someone. If anything, it's bringing you down more than you realize. And since Florida, we've all seen a slight change in you whenever we go out. You refuse to look at another woman. So don't play stupid with us. We all know you like Eloise. Except you."
Wrong... you're dead fucking wrong.
"What are you doing tonight?" Rory asked.
Knowing they would give me more shit for this, I rested my elbows on my knees and lowered my head in my hands. "Going to the club? Why?"
"I'm coming with you!" Aaron shouted.
"That's fine," I muttered. More, the merrier, right? Maybe that's what I need, something I haven't done in a long while, a fucking threesome. No. No. No. My heart and dick are telling me I can't do that either. What the fuck? Ugh, I better warn Aaron what's going on there tonight. He might just back out. And I hope he does because I don't need to give him or my other friends any more ammo to rub in my face that I like Eloise if I were to happen to back out of finding a woman to fuck. "So that you know, it's masquerade night."
"Even better."
Lovely.
"I was asking because Isabelle is having her bachelorette party tonight. And you still haven't set up my bachelor party. So, Callum. When are we doing mine?" Rory reminded.
Shit. I completely forgot about throwing him a bachelor party. In my defense, I've never been a best man in my life, and I don't know how this shit works, so it never crossed my mind to set it up. I sat back in my chair, sighing. "I'm sorry, Rory. I totally spaced it out."
I fished my phone out of my pocket and checked my calendar. I know I'm supposed to be in New York setting up a charity event this week and will return on Friday afternoon. "Would next Saturday work for everyone?"
"What else is going on at the club besides the masquerade?" Jace asked, a curious look in his eye.
"I don't know. Why?"
"Because Tallulah said something about that being one of their stops tonight. The Night Lovers Club. So, I thought maybe we could also do it tonight as my bachelor party. Get it over and done with since I've also got a lot on my plate."
Well, there go my plans of fucking a random woman's brains out to free my mind of Eloise.
"Besides the masquerade, the third level is having strippers' night. Males on one end, and females on the other," I enlightened as I looked at the calendar of events on The Night Lovers Club website. "It's also amateur night on the poles. Same level. And some other things are going on as always."
"That's why the girls are making a pit stop there," Jace said, grinning. "They want to pole dance!"
"They're all members now?" I asked, surprised. Because the last time I knew, their women were giving them shit for being members, fearing my friends would cheat on them.
"Yeah, I guess they all signed up a couple of months ago," Jace enlightened happily. "They all felt it would bring more spice to our lives and marriages if we all were members. They also felt we could hit the private rooms without the club saying we couldn't because of their membership status," he said, his brows wiggling up and down fast.
Actually, watching my friends gals trying to pole dance will be the highlight of my night. Maybe that's what I need? A good laugh instead of a good fuck. "Looks like we're all going to the club."
Rory looked at me and grinned from ear to ear. "Hey, guys. We should make a bet." My eyes lowered into slits as I eyed Rory, trying to figure out what he was up to. He only bets when he's right about something. "How much do you want to bet Eloise will be there?"
Eloise. Why would he say something like that? Does he know something I don't?
"She wouldn't dare walk into that place after I threatened to fire her ass for being there with her sister like three months ago."
Rory laughed like I said something funny.
My brows curled in confusion. Why would that be funny? She's my employee, and she has an image to uphold. "What?"
"You threatened to fire an employee who was off the clock, at a nightclub, sex club, whatever you want to call it, on her own time? Dude! What's wrong with you?" Greyson thundered, adding, "not to mention you're a member there, so what's the big deal if she were to go there? You go there. That's being a hypocrite."
My jaw clenched.
"She's mine. That's why," I snapped.
Fuck.
What the fuck did I just say?
Did I just admit to something that's not even true?
I hope you enjoyed the chapter!! 🤞🤞