15. Kian

15

KIAN

" A ny plans for the night?" Melissa asks me once Lorelei and Tate have left.

I glance at Lorelei's desk, irritated when I find that she's left sheets of paper messily on the top.

"I've got a date," I say, deciding not the tell her about the history lesson I'm going to force my little sister through first. At least I don't need to worry about Tilly, Makenzie's little sister. She'll have listened to every word at school today.

Walking around the plant, I study her desk. My eyes land on the pen from earlier and my fingers twitch to take it. Or at least hide it.

"Oh, anyone I might know?" She asks me this every time I tell her I'm meeting a woman. I'm pretty sure she's hoping I'll name-drop some celebrity or something. But I'm not really one for discussing my sexploits at the office. Over a glass or two of whiskey with my brothers, maybe, but that's where I draw the line.

I chuckle, walking away from Lorelei's desk, leaving it in the mess I found it. "I doubt it."

"Well, have a wonderful night. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she calls as I walk toward the elevator.

My cell burns a hole in my pocket as I descend through the building, and by the time I climb into the back of my car, I can't ignore it any longer.

I open up my emails and hit compose.

From: Kian Callahan

To: Lorelei Tempest

Subject: Housekeeping

Dear Miss Tempest,

I hope your first day was enlightening.

Please may I request that in future you leave your desk clear before leaving at night?

We have an image to uphold, and a desk holding that kind of pen does not scream professionalism.

Also please ensure you never involve yourself in those kinds of activities in the office.

I look forward to what tomorrow brings…

Regards,

Kian Callahan

Chief Financial Officer

Callahan Enterprises

"Good day in the office, sir?" Jamie asks as we make our way through the city.

It takes me a second to answer—I'm too busy remembering my day and the highlights that Lorelei's presence brought.

"Yeah," I finally say, a smile firmly playing on my lips as I do so.

"Your new assistant was something."

I still the second his words hit my ears and look up, finding his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"What was that?" I demand, my voice a little deeper than it was before.

"O-oh, I didn't—shit," he hisses under his breath. "I didn't mean it like that. She looked professional and like she could…" He trails off, piquing my interest.

Jamie doesn't usually give me his opinion about much. Maybe the weather or the state of the traffic. But never about a woman, or even a staff member.

"She could what?" I ask.

"Be a good addition to the team, sir," he says after clearing his throat.

My shoulders shake with a laugh. "You mean she can handle me?"

"Um…handle isn't the word I'd use."

"Oh really?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have said anything."

I glance down at my cell, disappointed that she hasn't already replied with some snide comment about my demands and expectations.

Sitting forward, I hold Jamie's eyes in the mirror as he's forced to stop at an intersection.

"Appreciate her from afar all you like. But you will not be getting any closer than that. Do you hear me?"

He swallows nervously before a car behind beeps, alerting him to the fact he can now go.

"Shit," he hisses again.

Happy that I've made my point clear, I sit back and open my emails again.

Without a reply from Lorelei, I'm forced to go through the others sitting in my inbox. They're nowhere near as exciting.

I've almost read and replied to all the ones worthy of my time when Jamie pulls up out the front of my apartment building.

"There you go, sir."

"Thank you. Have a good night. Try to stay out of trouble."

"You got it, sir."

"It's Kian," I say for the millionth time.

I've no idea who his parents are, but they instilled some serious fucking manners in this kid.

He smiles at me, silently letting me know that it'll never happen.

With a nod, I take off toward the entrance of my building, greeting the doorman as he lets me inside.

"Good evening, Kian. Good day?" Maurice is in his sixties, and I'm pretty sure he's been guarding the door of this building for the better part of his life.

He's been married since he was twenty-one, has four kids, eight grandkids, and a great-grandkid on the way. He is hands down the nicest man I've ever met. His wife is equally as lovely. He's a hardcore Chicago Chiefs supporter and loses his mind every time he has the pleasure of opening the door for my little brother.

A few years ago, we organized for him to have a season ticket. Since we did, he's attended every single home game, proudly wearing his Callahan shirt.

"Yes, thank you, Maurice. It's been great. How about you?"

"Can't complain, young man. Can't complain. What are your plans tonight then? Anything I should be jealous of?"

I smile at him.

"I've got a date."

"Another one?" he balks. "How many are you going to turn down before you find the one?"

"Maurice." I laugh. "I'm not looking for the one, you know that."

He shakes his head. "You've got it all wrong, kid. Women are great, sure. But the woman. Sheesh." He smiles, obviously thinking about his wife. "You'll know about it. And when you do, you do not let her go for anything. You got that?"

"I'll see what I can do. You on all night?"

"You know it."

"I'll see you later then. Gotta go clean up." I wink and he groans, shaking his head at my antics.

Secretly, he loves it. He's living vicariously through me; I know he is.

The second the elevator doors open and I spill out into my private entrance, I begin undressing.

By the time I'm in my bedroom, only my boxers remain, and after tugging on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, I make my way to my home gym, press play on my favorite playlist, and hit the treadmill.

Putting the speed up as fast as I can cope with, my feet pound against the belt and my heart begins to race.

I try to empty my mind and focus on the movements of my body, of the beat of the music thumping through the room, but I can't get there.

Instead, my head is full of the day's events.

No. Not just the day's events.

It's full of one person who was a part of them.

Long curly hair. Purple stilettoes. Gray pencil skirt and a mouth that never ceases to amaze me.

Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes closed as I push myself to the max and try to remember who I'm meeting tonight.

Fuck if I can remember her name or anything about her.

We met at an event the other week, and seeing as she didn't annoy the shit out of me from the get-go, I agreed to go out with her. Something that I'm now second-guessing. And I never fucking do that.

Slamming my palm down on the stop button, I jump off and bend over, resting my hands on my knees.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I've got a date with a hot woman. A night that will no doubt end in pleasure, and all I can think about is walking into work tomorrow and seeing if Lorelei beats me in so she can tidy her desk.

She won't. She's too fucking stubborn to do that. But I still can't help wondering. Waiting.

"Fuck's sake."

Killing the music, I march out of my gym in favor of the shower.

"Get your head in the fucking game, Kian."

The temptation to blow the date off entirely is almost too much. But knowing that I'll hate myself for being such a pussy tomorrow, I dress and head out.

I don't feel any of the usual excitement I do when I know I've got a woman's sole attention for the night. And as I drop into my Maserati to head to the restaurant, all I want to do is turn around and lock myself in my apartment.

The fact that my date has managed to book a last-minute table at the Barrel and Grill should impress me. There is a chance that she used my name to secure it, of course. But seeing as I can't remember who she is, she might not have needed to.

"Kian," Rob, the owner greets me the second I step through the door. "What a pleasant surprise," he says, holding his hand out to me.

"How's it going, man?"

"Great. Booked out for months right now."

"That's awesome. You deserve it."

"Is it just you? I'm not sure I'll be able to squeeze many more in tonight," he says with a wince.

"Actually, I'm meeting someone."

"Ah," he says, a wicked grip pulling at his lips. "What's the lucky lady's name?"

"Err..."

"Fucking hell, K," he says, throwing his head back, laughing.

"I've got a lot going on," I explain.

"Sure. Sure. Let's see…" He taps on his iPad; I assume scrolling through tonight's bookings for two in an attempt to save this date for me before it's even begun.

"Ah ha," he announces, looking up at me with a smug-as-fuck smile on his lips. "Does Claudine Bernard ring any bells?"

Honestly? No, not really.

"Yeah, that's it," I say confidently. If I'm wrong, this evening could be about to go from bad to worse, but there's a niggle in the back of my mind that I'm right.

"Great. Right this way then, sir. I'll grab you a drink. Something tells me that you're going to need it."

"Thanks," I mutter, lowering my ass to the seat. "Rob?" I ask before he takes off.

"Yes."

"Any idea who she is?"

He smirks again, shaking his head in amusement. "You're something else. I'd pull up Google if I were you, or this date could be heading south fast."

Fuck my life.

The second he turns his back, I pull my cell out and tap her name into the search bar.

My eyes widen as a photograph of her pops up.

Yep, that's why I agreed to this date. Fuck. She's stunning.

Long, sleek red hair, mesmerizing light blue eyes, pouty full lips, and if my memory does serve me correctly, a body to die for.

So why is it that as I stare at her photo, I don't feel even one ounce of excitement about spending the night with her?

I should. I really fucking should. But…I don't.

Am I broken?

Opening up her Instagram, I quickly discover that while I might not have had a clue who she is, it seems a lot of other people do.

Along with hundreds of thousands of followers, I find endless photographs of her posing in an array of beautiful places.

Travel influencer. Of course.

Explains why she might have made a beeline for me.

With a sigh, I close down the app and push it back into my pocket, although not before I check my email for a reply from Lorelei. Nothing.

My whiskey arrives and I take a sip as I wait.

It's no surprise she's late. Apparently, it's fashionable or some shit. Maybe it's meant to build anticipation. But honestly, right now all it's doing is pissing me off.

This woman only came on to me because of my job. The only reason she's interested is because she wants a step up in hers.

Why else would a travel influencer want to be out on a date with me?

Well, I mean…there are a few other reasons, but still…

I'm about to give up and blow her off when a shadow falls over me.

Glancing to my right, my eyes roll up a fitted dress before I find the exact same face that was staring back at me from my cell only a moment ago.

Fuck. Those images didn't even have filters.

"Good evening, Kian," she says in her sultry French accent that takes me back a few weeks to the event I met her at.

"Claudine, good to see you again," I say, forcing some lightness into my voice hoping she won't notice that I've no interest in being here right now.

It doesn't matter how hot she looks, or how every other man in this place is looking over, wishing that he was me right now.

Like a moron, I hold my hand out to greet her. She takes it with a teasing smile playing on her lips before leaning in close and pressing a kiss to both of my cheeks.

"I've been so looking forward to seeing you again, Kian." She takes a seat, leaving me little choice but to do the same as Rob comes over with a bottle of champagne for her and a fresh whiskey for me.

"No more," I tell him, placing my hand over the glass. "I'm driving."

Claudine frowns, but she quickly recovers as she holds her glass out. "To a wonderful evening."

My stomach knots as I clink my almost-empty glass to hers.

Something tells me that this is going to be anything but wonderful.