Текст книги "Crave"

Автор книги: B.J. Harvey

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Turning his head over his shoulder, he offers a knowing smirk. “You were so eloquent today, I figured I’d leave the job to you.”

I scoff but can’t help chuckling. “Yeah, well today might have been an uncharacteristic display. I’ve just had enough of meddling reporters besmirching me at the expense of our firm, my reputation—and yours. Ms. Dallas took things too far and I kind of snapped.”

“It was awesome to watch,” Lucia muses. “Made me hot seeing you so worked up,” she whispers loudly in my ear, now pressing her body against my back.

Grant, having overheard Lucia’s none-too-subtle statement, laughs loudly. “I like this woman, Cal. Please, can you keep her?”

“I hope to,” I murmur under my breath so only Lucia can hear me. Her breathing hitches and her arms snake around my waist as she pulls herself tight against me. “Stop saying things that make me want to jump you. My brother and your family would not appreciate the show.”

“I’m guessing not,” I retort, a sly smile ghosting over my lips as I step away from her and pull her around the corner, the room filling with applause as soon as Grant, Lucia and I enter the room.

Lucia slips her hand from mine and walks away toward the kitchen as I look for my parents, finding them standing beside Annie with champagne glasses in their upheld hands like the rest of the guests in the room.

“Hey, before I forget,” Grant says, then reaches inside his jacket. He pulls out a small envelope. “Annie said this was left in reception for you.”

I pull the card from his hand and open it, my blood cooling when I remember the last note I found on my car after my date at the Tea Garden with Lucia.

“Anything important?” Grant asks inquisitively.

“What the fuck?” I utter in disbelief.

“Cal? What does it say?” Grant asks. I hand it over to him and his eyes go wide as the words sink in.

“Dallas?” he asks, with a raised brow.

“She’s more of an extrovert; anonymous notes would not be her style. She’d just write another exposé on me.”

“What does it even mean?”

“Means I have an enemy. For what reason, I don’t have a fucking clue.”

“What are you going to do about it?” he asks, and for the first time in long while I’m confounded.

“I’m going to get a drink and enjoy the night. We have officially started the biggest project of our careers, Richardson. This calls for top quality liquor, don’t you agree?”

Grant looks at me pointedly before smirking. “Indeed.” He leads me to the bar and, after grabbing glasses for the three of us, he coughs into his hand and very obviously says the word “speech,” causing a cacophony of laughter to break out.

Using my hands to quiet the crowd, I don’t miss my mother’s proud smile and glistening eyes, my father’s puffed out chest, and my brother and sister’s wide grins.

“Thank you for coming tonight. Grant and I wouldn’t be where we are today without all of you. We now have one iconic building standing proud in Boston and the start of the another one in our beloved home city. So raise your glasses to yourselves, your colleagues, and the firm.”

“To the firm,” they all repeat, clinking glasses with one another and taking measured sips of what I know will be fine champagne. Annie would never allow anything but the best.

Grant holds out his glass, tapping it against mine. “Where’s the single malt when you need it?” he asks with a smirk. “You’re a terrible drunk on champagne alone.”

“Congratulations to you too, Richardson,” I say sarcastically. “And I know there is a good Macallan somewhere in this place. Luce told me they have a few bottles hidden for special guests.”

“Are you a special guest, Cal?” he asks with a wink.

“No comment.” I lift my glass to my lips and down the contents in one go. “I best go say hello to my family. You know how my mother is with manners.”

“Indeed. I’ll go mingle.” He steps closer and says quietly, so only I can hear, “So that you’re not caught off guard, it appears that Gregory the intern has invited a special plus one for the evening.”

My brows narrow. “Why is this of interest to me? All staff were allowed to bring a partner.”

“Yes, but this particular partner is of interest since her surname is Malestrom . . .” He lets this tidbit linger. Stepping sideways, I jerk my head to him with wide eyes, my muscles growing tense at the memory of our last chance encounter with Jodi and how bitter she was. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach at the wide range of disruption she could cause tonight in front of my staff, my family, Lucia . . . The most disconcerting question I have is what’s a woman like Jodi doing on the arm of an architectural graduate student—one who coincidentally just happens to be an intern at my firm? Because he is not her normal rich and successful type.

“What is his agenda?”

“Not sure, Cal. Could be a complete coincidence but in saying that, knowing the kid and his personality, there is no way in hell he wouldn’t be spreading the word to anyone that’ll listen that he is working for us. He probably thinks it’ll open doors for him, get him noticed, and get him laid.”

Well, there is that.

“But Jodi? That scene at Cisco? That wasn’t nice, definitely wasn’t polite, and that woman will be baying for blood, preferably yours, but probably mine as well.” I look over to her and nod. “A woman like that does not take public embarrassment—even one she brought upon herself. Hell, she’s probably got voodoo dolls of the both of us with giant pins through our junk.”

Grant grins at me. “Might be best to not react to her being here. If anything, Carmen’s attack on you at the press conference proved that we have a leak somewhere, either within the firm or on the museum board. Nevertheless, we need to keep a happy, neutral environment until we know more. Agree?”

“Definitely. I wish I knew how the shark found out about everything, but if we do have a leak, it’s one we need to stop in its tracks as soon as possible. That can be part of the damage control we sort out on Monday,” I say.

“I’ll let Annie know to block out Monday for us. Now plaster a smile on that dial, and let’s go mingle. Dinner is due to be served in twenty minutes, and you have family to greet and a big brother to dissuade from chopping off your balls.”

Chuckling, I smack him jovially on his shoulder. I look around the room, spotting my parents talking with my brother and his wife as well as my sister and her husband. A few feet away, heads bent together, are Graves and Jodi, her white cocktail dress standing out in a crowd of black, blue and red. That’s pure Jodi—dressing herself to lift herself up.

Graves catches my eye and lifts his chin, a smile gracing his lips when he looks at Jodi and then back to me. He says something to her and she turns to see me, throwing her arm up and waving at me. Her expression falters when Lucia sidles up beside me.

“Hey. Gino is just making sure service runs on time, but promised me he will make a concerted effort to come out and meet you as soon as he is free.”

God this woman is beautiful. I adore her eyes, her face, her effortless grace, and the uncloaked desire she has for me that’s worn with pride. Without a hint of hesitation, she places her hand on my cheek. I look down at her as she lifts up on her toes and kisses me softly on the lips before dropping back to normal height.

“What was that for?”

“I wanted to kiss you. Now can I meet the amazing people who created you so I can shake their hands?”

With that, I put my hand in hers and walk to where my parents are standing.

“Callum, you look so handsome tonight. That suit is so you,” my mother comments, her hands running over the jacket’s lapels.

Releasing Lucia’s hand, I step forward and kiss my mom on the cheek. “Thanks for coming, Mom.”

“You know we’ll always come to celebrate your buildings. Is this Lucia?” she asks, looking around my shoulder to where Luce is standing, waiting for my introduction.

Stepping back, I hook my arm around Lucia’s waist and press her gently forward. “Lucia Harding, this is my mother, Maree, and my father, Jared.”

Lucia holds out her hand to my mom who grabs it, pulls it and her forward, and hugs Lucia tight.

“So glad to meet you, Lucia. You’re beautiful,” Mom says to her, locking eyes with me over Lucia’s shoulder as she does. Keep her, she mouths to me.

“Maree, you’re going to squeeze the poor girl to death, and I haven’t had a chance to meet her yet. Let her go before your son goes all caveman on you.” Dad shakes his head and comes up to me, giving me an unmistakably proud shoulder clap. “Lucia, excuse my wife,” Dad muses, “she’s determined to see our son settle down, and since you’re the first woman we’ve met that Callum has been involved with, she is somewhat excited about the prospect.”

A gasp sounds behind me. Following the sound, I find Jodi staring daggers at Lucia’s back as she talks to my father. When I catch her eye, I glare at her, shaking my head in a silent warning that I pray she heeds. Graves grabs her arm and she looks away.

I reach out and grab her hand again, needing to touch her. She must sense my tension because she gives my hand a gentle squeeze before leaning into me. “What’s wrong?”

“Mom, Dad, we’ve got to keep mingling, but we’ll come sit by you when dinner is served. Save us a place,” I say.

Still holding Lucia’s hand, I lead us through the crowd, shaking hands and introducing Lucia to the guests. Finally, we make it to the back of the restaurant, and I find a quiet corner.

I turn to face Lucia. Her soft concerned eyes have a calming effect on my scattered nerves. “What’s wrong, Cal?”

I look back to where Gregory and Jodi are standing with a group of draftsmen, deciding that it’s better to alert her to Jodi’s presence rather than risk her being blindsided if Jodi chooses to make a scene. I reply with a half-hearted smile. “It seems that an ex . . . acquaintance of mine has been invited to tonight’s gathering by one of our interns.”

“Acquaintance?” She rises up on her toes and whispers to me, “You could just say ex-lover, ex-bedmate, ex—“

“Luce . . .” I growl in warning, her wide grin melting my aggravation.

She giggles. “You’re worried she might do something?” She smirks and adds, “Don’t worry, Cal. I’ll protect you from the big, bad ex. I bet I could take her out.”

I chuckle and with my hands on her hips, pull her in close to me. Lifting my arm, I tuck a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear then run the back of my hand down her neck. “I have no doubt that you can. But tonight is not about her. It is about the firm, and the project, and about you and me.” Leaning forward, I whisper against her lips, “And nobody is going to ruin that.”

Pulling my head back, I see her eyes are bright and excited.

“Want to meet my scary brother?”

“Let’s do it. Tonight is going to be anything but dull, so if he decides to give me the talk about my intentions for his sister, I’m ready for it.”

“Oh, stop. He’s my brother not my father. Believe me, my father would already have pulled you away, sat you down and plied you with Ouzo to find out your deepest darkest secrets.” Her comment is in jest but it still gives me an uneasy feeling, something she must see in my eyes.

“Cal, I’m joking.”

I shake my head, the mask locking into place. “I know, sweetheart. Where’s Gino?”

“Right here,” a deep voice replies from my right. I was so lost in his sister I didn’t see the man approach us.

Turning toward the voice, I’m met by a tall, muscular, very male version of Lucia. The same colored hair, the same eyes, and the same smile. It’s uncanny.

He holds his arm out to me, he says, “You must be Callum. I’m Gino Harding.”

Placing my hand in his, I’m not at all surprised by his strong grip.

“Gino, don’t damage his hand. It’s his money maker,” Luce teases, making her brother laugh.

“True. Never thought about that.”

“Thank you for hosting our event tonight,” I say.

“Thank you for paying more than the night’s takings would’ve been,” he retorts, making me laugh.

“You’re welcome. Grant and I have been here a few times now. The food is fantastic.”

“I bet you think the scenery is a hell of a lot better though.” He tilts his head toward his sister and she slaps his bicep half-heartedly, her eyes full of love.

“I can’t argue with you there. You have me pegged.”

There’s a loud whistle from the kitchen, grabbing Gino’s attention. “It’s nice to put a face to the name, Callum. Unfortunately, duty calls.” He wraps his hand around his sister’s head and kisses her temple reverently. “We’ll have to meet up for drinks one night when we finally have a day off together. Have a nice night.”

Gino disappears through the swinging kitchen door, leaving Lucia and I alone again.

“All done,” she says.

“And no mention of virtue or intentions . . .”

“Callum Alexander, I am almost thirty years old. I’m long past needing my brother’s permission to date a man.”

“Good to know,” I reply.

She reaches around me and pinches my ass. “Stop being a smart ass and go be with your people. The king must socialize with the help occasionally,” she adds.

“Just you wait till I get you alone.”

“I can’t wait. Now lead the way, Mr. Alexander. I want to meet your people, too.”

We return to mingling with the staff until five minutes later when we’re asked to be seated.

Thankfully—and surprisingly—the rest of the night goes off without a hitch. Jodi keeps her distance, Graves sticks by her side, and Lucia ends up swapping numbers with my sister, Heather, and sister-in-law, Julia.

And without me realizing, my mask dropped precisely five seconds after sitting down.

Until the next morning when Carmen Dallas’s paper ran the first of a series of stories about the rise and fall of Callum Alexander: the firm, the project, the investigation, my relationship with Lucia, and yes . . . an exposé on my nights with Jodi for all and sundry to read.

Since the first Tribune story broke a day after the ground breaking, I’ve failed to hide the true effect the exposé has had on me. I’ve been quiet, more brooding than usual, preferring to stay home with Lucia than keep up with my usual heavy schedule of public appearances.

What’s made it worse is that there has been no reprieve—the hits have just kept coming. None of the stories have had any merit, except for the complaint made about our concept and the interview given by Jodi. Above everything else, it was her interview that aggravated me the most.

Not only did Carmen do a number on me, Jodi attempted to drive the last nail in the coffin but talking about our physical dalliance, in graphic detail. Never cross a woman scorned, or if you do, make sure you’re not a person of interest to the public.

Having my past sexual dalliances laid out in very specific detail—with some artistic license thrown in for good measure—is not something I would wish on my worst enemy. For a man that is notoriously private and who made a conscious choice to keep his personal life exactly that—personal—to have sordid details of my sex life spread far and wide, published for everyone to see, is shameful.

Thankfully, I was able to call my father when Annie got wind of Jodi’s story being published, and pre-warn my mother. I haven’t been back home since it all came out, but one thing is for certain—the hometown success story now has a tarnish that will not be wiped from people’s memories any time soon.

There were a series of stories—accusations of corruption, false claims of nepotism, election year hand-outs from the mayor . . . you name it, Grant and I have been accused of it. I’ve also been labeled a heartless Lothario with a dirty mouth, an even dirtier mind, and one who callously swept Jodi aside when I met Lucia.

Lucia has been my rock throughout all of this. I pride myself on being strong, able to handle whatever is thrown my way, but despite everything that I’ve been accused of and labeled as, she has stayed by my side. She has never once questioned me as to whether the accusations were true or not. She’s believed in me wholeheartedly.

In fact, when the reporters wouldn’t stop harassing her outside her apartment building, one even going so far as to talk himself through the lobby and knocking on her front door, I told her to stay with me.

Nothing between the two of us has changed. Nothing about Luce and the way she is with me has changed.

But I have. And Luce has not missed it.

We have not attended any functions since the news broke, and I haven’t gone near the restaurant.

I made the decision to use a car service full-time, not wanting to drive my car any place where I might get bombarded by the press. That hasn’t stopped the constant stream of phone calls and requests for interviews coming through the firm.

The physical manifestations of the pressure I’m under is starting to show and to combat their effect, I’m trying to make it up to her in other ways.

Long gone is the sex with reckless abandon we used to enjoy. I don’t want Lucia to ever think that what we have together is anything like what I had with Jodi. I’ve been more attentive to her needs than usual, making love to her gently, slowly, driving her higher and higher until she climaxes beneath me.

She’s my anchor in a swirling sea of distrust, and I’m trying to shelter her from the storm that is my life. But with the pressure growing with every passing moment, other things have weighed heavily on my mind.

I’ve had to be controlled.

Almost too controlled.

The desire to do more has been calling to me louder and clearer than ever, becoming harder and almost impossible to ignore.

Still I’ve come too far now to lose the best thing in my life over something far too tempting to contemplate.

As much as I’ve tried, what I can’t silence is the desperate need that claws at me as pressure continues to mount. The deafening roar inside, threatening to explode if something—anything—doesn’t give, and soon.

I’m distracted from this train of thought when Lucia calls my name from the kitchen. “Cal?”

Ever the hostess, she’s decided that my big empty house needed people in it. Therefore we are hosting a dinner party tonight with Grant, Jeremy, Julia, Heather and Glen. My parents are watching Grayson for the night so it’s an ‘adults night out’ with the people I’m closest to and trust the most.

Shutting down the computer, I leave the upstairs office and make my way down to find my girlfriend looking messed up and overheated, bending down in front of the oven.

My cock stiffens at her round, firm ass swinging high in the air in front of me, calling to me to take her hard and fast in my kitchen, pushing her down over the center island and ramming into her from behind, my hand turning her head in place so I can plunder her mouth.

She looks over her shoulder and meets my eyes. “What’s that look for, Mr. Alexander?”

“What look, Ms. Harding?”

“The look that says you’re cataloguing all of the dirty things you could do to my ass while I’m in this position?”

“To your ass?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at her.

Her cheeks go red uncharacteristically, and for once I see Luce almost look bashful. She quickly recovers though. “Well, maybe not that in the kitchen. We do have dinner guests arriving soon.”

Unable to resist, I walk over to her and push her back against the counter. “We have forty minutes. A lot can be achieved in that time,” I murmur against her neck, trailing my lips down her soft skin and nipping the curve of her shoulder. “A lot of things can be given, and received . . .”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums as her hands start to roam, diving beneath my shirt and running over my stomach before heading south. “I’m more of a show me, don’t tell me kind of woman.”

“And I’m an ‘anything you want, wherever you want it’ kind of man.”

“The perfect kind.”

“Then let me demonstrate.” Hooking my hands beneath her ass, I hoist her up and place her on the counter, and set about showing her some enjoyable ways to spend a spare forty minutes.

“Let me get this straight. You were arrested for indecent exposure? In the French Riviera? Where you’re outcast if you’re not topless?” Grant asks Lucia after dinner.

“Yeah, I just happened to come across a conservative cop who felt I needed a lesson in acceptable public behavior.” She smiles wide, the experience obviously not having a detrimental effect on her confidence.

“There are a lot of different kinds of lessons that can be given without hauling a topless woman into a jail cell,” Julia says from the other side of the table.

“Naked. Not topless. Naked.”

The table starts laughing, partly in shock but also amazement.

Her eyes meet mine and she raises an eyebrow at me. Then her bare foot snakes up my leg, and I know the devious glint in her eye now has a purpose.

“How about you, Cal? Been arrested for something we don’t know about? Got any deep, dark secrets to hide from the parents?” Jeremy pipes up, cornering me in during a lull in the conversation.

I cautiously eye Grant, who is now smirking. Lucia watches me intently, awaiting my answer. In fact, the entire table is now giving me full attention. Fuck.

“I don’t even think he snuck out after curfew during high school,” Heather muses.

“Jesus,” I mutter with a groan, looking to the ceiling.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Jeremy and Heather retort in singsong unison, imitating our mother. That just starts another round of laughs.

“There are no secrets,” I reply, lifting my scotch to my mouth and taking a slow, measured sip.

Lucia scoffs light-heartedly. “Oh I don’t believe that for one minute, Cal.”

“Everyone has secrets.” Grant looks at me pointedly, then thankfully looks away.

“I’m an open book. No secrets here,” she says with a shrug, lifting her wine glass to her mouth.

I’ve never lied to Lucia, but with the amassing pressure starting to take its toll and the intensifying glare of public attention I feel whenever I’m not at home, I’m holding back more.

She deserves more than me holding back, more than what I’m giving her now.

“Earth to Cal?” Jeremy says.

“What?” I ask, looking at my brother.

“Are you okay? You know, with the press?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

“It must be hard, always being watched, reported on . . .” Glen adds.

All eyes turn to me at the head of the table, studying me, waiting for me to give them the truth. But without realizing it, I go into autopilot mode. With a slow curl of my lips, I smile at my family, some of my most fervent supporters, and I lie. “I’m good. I’m used to it by now.” I shrug and finish off my scotch.

Standing up, I sweep my arm out to the table. “Anybody need a refill?”

My eyes default to Luce, and I’m struck by the intensity of her stare. She’s studying me like a Rubik’s cube when you’re only a few twists and turns from success. The endearing tilt of her head unsettles me, an innate feeling caused by the knowledge that the woman I love sees right through my mask, through the smoke and mirrors I’ve erected to hide behind. She’s able to sense the unease inside of me, and the concern in her eyes threatens my resolve to stay strong in the face of enduring pressure.

It claws at me, a continuous prickling sensation that draws my muscles tight with the tension that continually threatens to pull me under. Having to appear unaffected in front of everybody is arduous, but a necessary undertaking in order to maintain my status quo, both personal and professional. Shielding those around me from everything within my power has now become my sole focus. All of it is on my shoulders, a burden I’ll willingly bear until there is no onus to continue doing so.

“Another would be great, Cal,” Luce replies, her voice soft, eyes now full of understanding. She holds out her glass to me and I take it with me to the kitchen.

“Yeah, me too,” Heather adds, before turning toward Glen.

Grant is uncharacteristically silent, and more disconcerting than Lucia’s knowing concern is my best friend knowing exactly what my thought process is in moments like these. He’s been by my side throughout the highs and lows of our careers—when we started Alexander Richardson, when we made our first public tender, when we lost our first design proposal to a bigger firm, working eighteen-hour days with me to perfect the Spera House design right down to checking and double-checking every minute detail.

“I’ll help with the drinks,” Grant says, standing up and following me to the kitchen. When we’re out of earshot of the others, he puts his hand on my bicep to stop me. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

An undignified snort escapes me. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I put the glasses down on the counter and brace my arms against it.

“You may be able to shield your family from the shit swirling around you right now, but you can’t pull the wool over my eyes and definitely not Lucia’s.”

“I’m not—”

“You fucking well are. You’re here, you’re smiling, you’re acting like you’re normal, but it’s not you.” His eyes are blazing. He’s trying to rein in his frustration, and I’m thankful in this instance that his back is to the rest of the room.

“Grant . . .” I warn in a low voice.

“You do not have to put on that damn caricature in front of any of us, but back there, you gave us the Callum Alexander people expect. You don’t have to do that with us, and I’m pissed off that you felt you had to.”

“Grant . . .” My voice is slightly louder, and definitely more threatening.

“You need to at least try to relax, Cal. I don’t want to be left with a company to run by myself when you have a fucking heart attack from too much stress.”

“There’s more to it.”

“Now why does that not surprise me? Look at me, Cal. I’m not just a chump you work with, and if you can’t unload on me, you’ve also got one hell of a woman over there who would walk over hot coals just to be by your side. You’re not alone in this. It’s my company too, my name being dragged through the mud as well.”

“You didn’t have your sexual exploits described in detail in a national publication,” I say, stepping toward the fridge to pull out Lucia’s wine before turning and pouring it into the glass.

“No, but at least there was nothing in there that would turn you into a pariah either. It could’ve been worse. Imagine if—“

“Let’s not and say we never bring that up,” I retort.

“We’ll get through this, Cal. Everyone knows this for the witch hunt it’s designed to be—a fabricated one at that. Tall poppy syndrome in its most destructive form.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Mud sticks—shit sticks more. If this continues, it could cause untold damage to the business, our name, the firm. What about our staff?” Every word increases, the tension stabbing at me like a knife—sharp, menacing, and unrepentant in its viciousness. My body, tired from weeks of constant ‘fight or flight’ mode, is waning in the face of continuous and unrelenting attacks from all sides.

“We have contingencies, Cal. You’re not in this alone. We fought our way from the unknown abyss to where we stand today and it’ll take more than a woman scorned—”

“Or two . . .”

“Touché—or two—to cut our legs off. What they all seem to forget is that we’ve each got a third leg that’s more powerful than anything else.” He winks at me, a wide smile on his lips.

I shake my head in exasperation, his words—and support—releasing at least some of the stress threatening to drag me under. “Thanks.” I say. “And on that note, I think a cigar on the balcony is in order.”

“Now that is the best idea you’ve had all night. Barring, of course, the offer of a threesome with Lucia later tonight, but I’ll wait till she asks me about that before respectively declining.”

“Asshole.”

“Yep, but I’m the best asshole you know.”