Chapter 14
9:02 AM.
I watch the clock with daring eyes, almost willing Blake to pound down my hotel door. It's not like I make it a point to be late to everything work-related. In all other instances, my tardiness is completely unintentional.
This time, however, while I stare at the clock with confrontational scrutiny, my lack of punctuality is very deliberate. Every second that ticks by is another second of silent protest to Mr. Benson.
My fingers pick at the half-eaten bagel I ordered for breakfast. The dry bread becomes smashed in between my thumb and index finger before being loosely dropped onto the floor. A piece of me hopes it sticks to the carpet and Blake will have to pay an additional fee.
9:07 AM.
I glance away from the clock, pulling my phone out of my pocket when I feel it buzz with an unread text. A grin of satisfaction slips on my lips when Blake's name flashes across my screen.
Blake: Where are you?
A million responses itch at the tips of my fingers, but I don't respond at all. Especially not this quickly. He needs to think things are just as they always have been. He needs to think I am just as lazy, aloof and uncaring as I was the first day I started working for him.
I pick off another piece of bagel, this time popping it into my mouth and chewing on it slowly. Blake's itinerary rests on the bed next to me. My eyes scour over the day's events, and I bite back a roguish grin when I see our first appointment is supposed to be at 9:30 AM.
9:18 AM.
As the clock pushes close to 9:20 AM, I hear loud footsteps stomping down the hallway. I jump up from the bed, dusting away the bagel crumbs from the length of my shorts.
Show time.
Knock.
Knock, knock.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
"Callum!" I hear Blake shout from the other side of the door. "Open this door! Now!"
His voice is deep and rich with fury. The sound of it sends a tremor down my spine. I've heard him irritated a few times, but I've never heard him this upset. I swallow down the wad of bagel sitting in the side of my cheek and pad across the carpet towards the door.
"Callu-"
I open the door, cutting off Blake's shout. He stares down at me, his mouth twisting with rage. His cheeks are tinted red and his eyes look dark enough to be sinister. He narrows his gaze on me.
"Get your ass down to the lobby," he commands with a whisper. "Now."
"Yep, sure thing, sir."
I shoulder past him and walk down the hallway towards the elevator. A nonchalant whistle dances between the hollow space between my cheeks. Whatever melody that comes out I'll never know, because all I can hear is my pulse thumping against my eardrums.
Blake stops my hand before I have a chance to hit the 'down' button of the elevator. His masculine hand curls around my wrist.
"I – I apologize," he says through gritted teeth. "For my language just a few moments ago. It was tactless."
The apology seems to do more good for Blake than it does for me. He releases my hand and straightens his jacket, reaching out to press the button for the elevator. His cheeks lose their heat of anger – of passion – and his expression once again mirrors the illusion of unflappable calm and composure.
It irritates the hell out of me.
We step onto the elevator in silence. Only days ago, having Blake's attention on me was anything but wanted. Now, when I know his attention is focused elsewhere, I am grasping at straws to get it back. On me.
Why?
I don't like that fagtoid, Phil. That's why. Plus, if I interfere into Blake's personal life a bit, there's a good chance he'll lay off of mine. Those have to be reasons I'm doing all I can to piss him off. Nothing else makes sense.
Blake looks down to give me a tight-lipped smile as we walk out of the hotel and towards Todd's obediently waiting car. I want to slap it off his face.
"Sorry for the delay, Todd," Blake apologizes.
Todd glances at me from the rearview mirror, his eyes filled with unspoken accusation. I'm sure Blake was out here fuming and counting every minute that I didn't show up on time.
"Yes, sorry for the delay," I add, sliding into the plush, leather seat. "But we hold your driving abilities in the highest regard, Todd. So I have no doubt you will get us to our first appointment safely and in record time."
I can barely make out the tightening of Blake's jaw at my disrespectful comment to one of his employees. He doesn't say anything, though. Neither does Todd. The vehicle simply pulls away from the curb - away from the cool shadows of the hotel, and into the humid heat once again.
________
I plop into the lavish chair of the polished oval office, swiveling it left and then right. Blake closes the conference door behind us and presses the phone up to his ear, listening intently to the banker on the other end. My fingers thrum against the shiny table, the dull thud of each fingertip pulling Blake's attention from his call.
"...no, we are done here....closed the deal earlier....right."
Pause.
"I'm with him now. I'll have him fax it over first thing Monday morning.....hmm...yes...sounds good....thank you."
Blake disconnects the call and closes his eyes to take a calming breath. He runs a hand through his hair, setting his briefcase on the table with gentle ease. It's just the two of us in this spacious room, and if I remember the 'events' on the itinerary correctly, this is our last stop of the day.
"Callum," Blake addresses me with eyes still closed. "I need to go over contracts with you. Do you think you can manage this without harassing one of my employees, dumping Gatorade on my lap, arguing with me over the most nonsensical subjects, or whistling along to every song that comes to mind?"
I smirk. Blake rubs his fingers along the center of his temples in a circular motion. Judging by the action, it seems my day's work is paying off. There's just one, final piece that I need to carry out.
"You got it, sir."
Blake opens up his briefcase and pulls out a myriad of orange and cream-colored folders before setting them on the table. His eyebrows pinch with concentration. Even his lips are pursed as he mentally evaluates all we have to do in the next hour.
"So do you and Phil have plans tonight?" I ask as casually as I can muster.
"Hmm?"
Blake barely spares me a glance. He's already nose deep in one of his stupid folders.
"You and Phil," I press. "Do you two have plans tonight?"
"I had planned on taking us all out for a nice dinner," Blake draws out, never taking his eyes off the document in front of him. "But after the unsuccessful introduction this morning, I have decided against it."
"Probably for the better. I would have declined the offer anyway."
"It wouldn't have been an offer."
I chuckle at the off-handed comment he makes, every word dripping with domination and control. He doesn't even see it; it's so engrained into his personality that he has become immune. I lean my elbows on the table and take a deep breath.
"Well if you and Phil are going to dinner on your own, I think I'll go out tonight too."
Silence.
"On my own," I add.
This is enough to pull Blake's attention away from his papers. He studies my face, the dark focus of his gaze not missing a single inch.
"Callum, is there a reason you are trying exceptionally hard to get under my skin today?"
Yes.
"No."
"Mmm."
Blake sits back in his chair, bringing together the tips of his fingers to form a sloppy triangle beneath his defined jaw. His left leg starts bouncing. Up down, up down, up down. Each time his heel slaps against the floor, a dull thud follows in its wake.
"Do you remember our conversation last night, Callum?" Blake asks me quietly.
"Which one?"
"The one where I clearly specified that I am only allowed to take another lover in the absence of Phil's presence."
I glower at him, and my mask of indifference falters for a split second.
"I'm not your lover," I spit out. "That's disgusting."
Blake waves it off, rolling his eyes. He breathes out a heavy sigh and glances towards the window. A soft glow filters past the blinds, the gentle oranges and reds of the sunset casting shadows against the harsh angles of his masculine face.
It does nothing to help his case of being less attractive. My eyes come to rest on his lips, their supple shape set in a firm line of frustration. There is just a hint of a five o'clock shadow forming around his mouth and leading down to his chin. My cheeks prickle remembering the sandpaper-like hair as it rubbed against my face while the two of us kissed.
Does he think of our kiss sometimes? Ever?
"I can't stop you," Blake's lips say.
"Oh..."
My boss raises an eyebrow at the disappointment that is all too evident in my voice. It shouldn't be there. No emotion should be there, for that matter. Blake starts tapping his left foot again, up down, up down. He forces his eyes away from me and takes up looking over his paperwork again.
"But if I could stop you," he mutters. "I would."