22. Lorelei

22

LORELEI

I t's late by the time I roll out of bed the next morning.

My intentions of having a quiet evening followed by an early night were shattered the second Ryder popped up.

He might have gone out, evidenced by some of the selfies he sent me during the evening, but he didn't forget about me.

I'm not sure if he was keeping me on the back burner in case he didn't have other options or what, but he'd thoroughly reeled me in, and I couldn't switch off despite knowing better.

As it turned out, he didn't hook-up, and he went home alone. Well…not entirely alone. I was happily burning up his messages by that point.

I stretch as I walk into my bathroom, feeling pretty sated despite spending the night in bed by myself.

Tate was right; Ryder is what I need in my life for a little stress relief right now.

Feeling inspired and full of life, instead of starting the coffee machine and curling myself up on the couch to laze Sunday away, I pull on a sports bra, a pair of leggings, and throw my hair up into a messy bun.

I haven't been running properly since Matt and I started getting serious. Any spare time I had, I was spending with him. And my exercise was courtesy of him as well.

The pain of the breakup threatens, but I stretch my neck out and force it down.

Being sad over that lying piece of shit is a waste of time.

Instead, I need to be focusing on myself. That is a much healthier way of dealing with everything.

With my cell strapped to my upper arm and my earbuds firmly in place, I close the front door behind me and take off.

It's a beautiful fall day outside, and I feel better about my life every time my foot hits the sidewalk.

Considering how little I've exercised in the past few months, I find my stride easily, and I soon discover that I've run farther than I anticipated.

When I find a coffee shop with a free seat outside, I order myself an iced latte and a panini and continue with my self-care day.

It's perfect.

Tate was right. I just needed a bloody good orgasm to fix me right up. Sure, she was expecting it to be delivered by a man and not my favorite toy, but whatever.

The endorphins are running rampant through my system nonetheless.

It's mid-afternoon when I finally walk back into my building.

My skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, my hair is…probably better off not being thought about, and I'm pretty sure that when I strip off my clothes I'll discover that my waning summer tan has had a boost.

I'm more than ready for a shower and to kick back and relax before another working week begins.

A trickle of unease works its way through my body as I think about facing Kian again after what happened Friday night, but I quickly lock it away to worry about tomorrow. I'm not allowing him to ruin any more of my weekend.

My legs are burning from the run up the stairs of my building, but I'm too busy fiddling with my earbuds and cell to pay any attention to what's happening in my hallway. Something I soon discover is a mistake.

"Good afternoon, Lorelei."

The second the deep voice hits my ears, I freeze.

No.

No.

He is not standing outside my apartment on a Sunday freaking afternoon.

Dragging my eyes up, I find that I'm wrong, because he is standing there beside my front door like he owns the place.

"What are you doing?" I snap, trying to hold my head high and stand my ground despite the fact I'm a disgusting, sweaty mess.

"Waiting for you. What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're standing somewhere you don't belong."

A smirk kicks up one side of his mouth, and it makes one of his dimples pop.

A sigh falls from my lips, and I tell myself it's out of frustration, not how damn good-looking he is.

He tsks before letting his eyes drop down my body. I might be dressed, but the way his pupils dilate, I may as well be standing here naked.

"What do you want, Kian?" I snap, frustrated that he's ruining my day.

Everything was going so well.

"We're going out," he states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Popping a hip, I rest my hand on my waist. "I'm sorry. We're what?"

"Going out. You're probably going to want to shower first though, right?"

My mouth opens and closes to say something, but no words emerge.

What the fuck is this asshole playing at?

"Come on, open up. We don't have all day. Got places to be."

I continue to stare at him in disbelief.

"Where is your key, Lorelei?" he snaps, his patience quickly disappearing.

My eyes drop to the fake plant that sits in a pot beside the front door, and he follows my gaze.

"You're fucking kidding me. That's where you keep your key? Are you asking to be robbed and attacked in the middle of the night?"

My brows jump. "N-no, that's not?—"

"Never. And I mean fucking never, leave your key here again. Do you hear me?"

"I hear the words, Kian. But I am not listening to them. Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what to do with my own goddam key?"

He holds my eyes for a few seconds, the hardness of his expression letting me know exactly what he thinks of my statement before he spins around and plucks the key from beneath the pot.

My eyes catch on the "Callahan" that's branded across his back, giving me little choice but to appreciate what he's wearing.

The suit I'm used to is nowhere to be seen. Instead, he's wearing a Chicago Chiefs jersey and a pair of what I can only assume are stupidly expensive jeans and sneakers.

I hate to admit it, but the casual look really suits him.

Without another word, he opens my front door, and after pressing his big palm against the small of my back, he physically pushes me inside, immediately closing us in.

"I have no idea what is going on here, but I have plans this afternoon, and they don't involve you."

"Cute," Kian muses. "You have thirty minutes to get showered and dressed. Do not make us late."

He takes a step forward, stupidly assuming that I'm going to follow his orders.

"You do not get to force your way in here and then start barking orders like I'm a dog, Kian Callahan."

"Oh, and you need to wear this," he says thrusting a carrier bag at me before disappearing into my living area.

"What the actual fuck, Callahan?" I seethe.

"Just do as you're told, Temptress," he rasps back.

Fire burns through me and I storm after him.

"What did you just call me?"

He spins around and holds my eyes as if I'm the crazy one here.

"Tempest. Your name, Lorelei." He says the words with so much confidence that I question my own hearing.

Shaking my head, I drop my eyes to the bag in my hands.

Reaching inside, I pull out the fabric hiding inside and hold it up.

"What the?—"

"We watched your brother's game. Now we're going to do the same for mine."

I stare down at the Chicago Chiefs jersey in my hands with my head spinning out of control.

"Y-you're taking me to watch a football game?" I ask in complete bafflement.

"Yes, Lorelei. I'm taking you to watch a football game."

"You know I don't actually like football, right?"

He shrugs. "Doesn't matter. We're there to support Kieran."

I'm speechless. Utterly fucking speechless.

"The game starts at four thirty, and I'd quite like to be there before then," he says, making a show of glancing at his watch.

"Y-you're?—"

"Taking you to watch a football game. Yes, Lorelei. Is there another way you need me to explain it to you?"

"B-but why?"

"Because I am, okay? Now stop questioning me and go and get ready."

Unable to come up with any kind of argument to get myself out of this—not that I think any would be good enough—I spin on my heels and march toward my bedroom, clutching the jersey in my hands with a death grip.

It's not until I kick my bedroom door behind me that I suck in some much-needed air.

Kian Callahan is standing in my living room, waiting to take me to a football game. What fucking universe is this?

And more importantly, why am I even considering going?

He's right. He did watch Wilder's game with me. I owe Kieran, right?

Before I can talk myself in circles, I strip out of my running clothes, pull my shower cap on—because I do not have time to deal with that—and step into the shower.

" T his is a really bad idea, Lorelei," I tell myself as I stand in front of my floor-length mirror, staring at the name plastered across my back.

Of course Kian couldn't bring me just any Chicago Chiefs jersey. Oh no, he had to bring me one with "Callahan" splashed across it.

Sure, as my boss, he may have some kind of ownership of me right now, but this is taking it to a whole new level.

I. Am. Wearing. His. Name.

This was not in my job description.

But that doesn't stop me from double-checking my hair and makeup in the mirror, slipping my feet into a pair of sneakers, and heading out to discover what he's done to entertain himself.

I guess I shouldn't really be surprised when I find him sitting at my kitchen island with my laptop open and a spreadsheet filling the screen before him.

"What the hell are you?—"

"Some of your formulae were wrong," he states simply.

"You don't even know what I was trying to do."

"Yes, I do. I was the one who asked you to do this. I know how it needs to work."

Red-hot anger shoots through my veins.

"Then maybe you should just do it yourself."

He stares at me with a slight frown between his brows, as if he isn't understanding my issue here.

"Then why have an assistant?"

"Well, isn't that the question? Please, can you stop interfering with my work? If I need your help, I will ask."

"No, you won't," he says confidently.

He's right. I probably wouldn't. Google is my friend. He is not.

Closing my laptop, he gets to his feet and steps toward me.

"Shall we go?" he asks, and then as if suddenly realizing that I'm actually standing here, he takes a moment to let his eyes drop down my body. "Shit," he breathes.

"Why am I agreeing to this?" I ask, trying to ignore the way my blood heats under his perusal.

"Because I'm your boss, and you have to say yes to me."

"Wow, you really are delusional," I mutter, holding my ground as he steps right into my personal space.

Alarm bells go off, and my head screams for me to step back.

My body, though…the warmth from his calls to me, draws me in. If I were to move just a couple of inches, then…

"You look beautiful, by the way. Chiefs' colors suit you."

I stare up at him, unable to come up with any kind of intelligible response to his comment.

"We need to leave. Do you have everything?" he asks as his large hand gently wraps around my upper arm, spinning me in the direction of the front door.

"M-my purse," I stutter like a fool. Anyone would think that I've never been touched by a man.

His hand moves to the small of my back, and he sucks in a sharp breath. Glancing back over my shoulder, I find him staring at his surname branded across my shoulder blades, and my heart jumps into my throat.

His hand presses against my back, encouraging me forward. My feet move of their own accord. No sooner do I have my purse over my shoulder than I'm guided out of my apartment and into the elevator.

The air is thick with his cologne and sexual tension as his eyes remain on me. And not just on my face. He is way too blatantly looking at my body, and I've no idea what to do with it.

"W-who are the Chiefs playing?" I ask, my voice shaky and weak.

I hate it.

No man should have the power to make me second-guess myself.

But there is something about Kian that totally disarms me.

He is the perfect specimen of everything I hate in a man. He should not affect me in any way, other than to disgust me and turn me off. But I'm learning that I have a very different reaction when I'm in this man's company and the object of his attention.

Fucking hell. I'm just like all the others.

Do not fall for it, Lorelei. He's just trying to make a point. And right now, he is winning.

Straightening my spine, I repeat my little pep talk over and over as we descend through the building, and I pretend to listen as he talks football.