37. Lorelei

37

LORELEI

Boss: I'm going to have to cancel tonight. Raincheck?

M y heart thumps against my ribs as I stare down at his message.

I shouldn't be disappointed. I should be relieved to get out of a date that I shouldn't want.

But fuck…I am.

Without bothering to reply, I throw my cell onto the couch and stomp toward the kitchen.

Grabbing myself a glass, I yank the fridge door open and pull out a bottle of wine.

I treated myself to my favorite when I started at Callahan Enterprises, but I haven't had a chance to celebrate with it yet.

Celebrate…

"Pah, what a joke," I mutter as I pour myself a generous measure before taking a sip. "Mmm."

As I put the bottle back, I study the contents of the fridge. If I really wanted to, I could pull something together for dinner. It wouldn't be very exciting, though.

I can't help but wonder where Kian would have taken me tonight. One thing is clear—the food would have been outstanding.

My stomach growls unhappily as I walk back toward the couch with my wine.

Picking up my cell, I close down my messages and open my takeout app. I mindlessly scroll through every offering. Every type of cuisine and fast food passes before me, but despite being hungry, none of it steals my interest.

Damn it, I wanted to be waited on tonight and treated like a princess. It's not very often it happens. But it's been too long since someone even tried.

Matt…

All our dates were like a dream.

He was a dream…until he turned into a nightmare.

There are more unread messages sitting in my inbox from him, and my stomach knots. How long is he going to be satisfied by sending messages that go unanswered? At some point, he's going to up the ante again. Maybe once his black eye has faded.

Tonight's date and maybe a photo or two would have helped get rid of him. Or at least I can hope that it would have. But spending Saturday night in my apartment with only a glass of wine for company isn't going to convince anyone that I've moved on with my life.

I'm still scrolling when my cell begins buzzing with an incoming call.

My heart lurches at the thought of it being him, but the second my eyes land on the person calling, I relax.

"Hey," I say the second the video call has connected and my best friend's face fills the screen. "How was last night?"

She rolls her eyes. "Exhausting. I swear every single person wanted to personally congratulate us."

"Aw, that's sweet," I say, fully aware of how much Tate would have hated all the attention. I know because I'd feel exactly the same. The only difference is she's been brought up in these elite circles and wouldn't have stared back at them with her best resting bitch face fully in place. I, however, am less skilled at hiding my true feelings.

"Uh huh," she mutters. "King killed his speech, though, so that was good."

"Were you expecting him to do anything but?"

"No, but seeing him nervous was funny as hell."

"King gets nervous, who'd have thought it?" I tease.

"I know, right? He'd kill me if he knew I told you."

"Your secret's safe with me. Maybe."

"So…" she starts, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "How was your night?"

"Fine," I mutter, reluctantly.

"Oh, come on, Lori. You looked fucking stunning, by the way."

"You saw me?"

"Haven't you been on Instagram?"

A weird mix of dread and excitement war inside me.

Maybe we didn't need a date tonight to publicly announce our fake relationship.

"Clearly not," I mutter as I open the app. "Oh shit," I gasp when I find more notifications than I think I've ever had before.

"Told you so. Everyone and their wife wants to know who the beautiful woman is smiling up at Kian Callahan like he's personally handed her the moon."

My stomach twists uncomfortably.

"I am not looking at him like that. I'm glaring at him in pure irritation."

"Bullshit," she coughs. "Admit it. He looks good."

"When don't any of the Callahan brothers look good?" I mutter, wondering how it's possible that even on their worst days they look like they've just walked off a runway.

Kian in a tux, though…almost as good as those gray sweats from this morning.

Heat blooms in my lower belly as I think about what they were hiding—or not hiding, as the case may have been. And how it felt pressed against my stomach as we made out in the gym.

Bad move, Lorelei. Bad fucking move.

"What's that face for?" Tate asks. We've been each other's ride or die for so long now that one look can tell a thousand words.

"N-nothing."

"Lorelei Anne Tempest," she says, turning on her future stern mother voice as she full names me. "Do you have something you need to tell me?"

I let out a heavy sigh and sink lower on the couch.

"I got trapped in the elevator last night," I confess as horror washes over my best friend's face.

"Holy shit. Are you okay? Why didn't you call? We could have?—"

"Tate," I snap, interrupting her. "I wasn't going to interrupt your night. Plus, you were miles away. And anyway, my cell died and?—"

"Do not tell me you spent all night in there."

"No. Kian had only just dropped me off and he?—"

"Oh my god, he rescued you?" she asks, her voice getting all light and whimsical.

It's weird hearing it because I've always been the more romantic out of the two of us, but it's clear that King has had an impact on my bestie.

"Him and Jamie, yeah. I was freaking out and?—"

"He was there in your moment of need."

"Hmm. Something like that."

"You thanked him, right?"

An image of us standing in my bedroom, our lips pressed together as we each questioned our next moves, comes back to me.

"He stayed the night to make sure I was okay."

"He what?" Tate shrieks at a decibel that only dogs should be able to hear.

"On the couch, Tate. He slept on the couch."

She frowns. "What was wrong with my bed?" she asks, offended that he chose the couch over the unused memory foam mattress in her old room.

"I don't know, T. I didn't ask. I was too busy freaking out over the fact he spent the night in our apartment and I didn't know."

"Your apartment," she corrects like she always does. "And how didn't you know?"

I explain how he shut me inside my room—ignoring the part about Jamie interrupting us—and how I thought he'd left as I'd demanded.

"Aw, he likes you," she sings.

"No, he was concerned I'd freak out and never return to be tormented by him at work."

"Oh yeah, that's the reason he slept on the couch. Sure." She rolls her eyes to ensure I know she's joking—as if the tone of her voice wasn't enough. "Then what happened?" she asks eagerly, needing more details.

"He closed the entire gym so the two of you could work out alone?" she cries.

"It's not a big deal."

"You're wrong. It's a huge fucking deal. You know why he did that, don't you?"

"So no one could see how awful I look all sweaty and red in the face?"

Tate laughs. "For a smart girl, you're really freaking delusional, Lor."

My lips purse and my eyes narrow as I glare at my best friend.

Why did I tell her all this? I should have known her opinion wouldn't be helpful.

"He didn't want anyone else to see you. Full stop. He wants you, Lor, and he doesn't want any other man in that office to lay eyes on you.

My stupid romantic heart flutters wildly. "That's ridiculous," I state, trying to ignore my true feelings about her explanation. "He just knew I'd outrun him and make him look weak."

"Kian Callahan might be a lot of things, but weak isn't one of them."

I huff, because what else can I say? She's right. Obviously.

"Soooo…I feel like there's more."

"Fuck's sake, Tate," I mutter, reaching for my wine and taking a massive gulp.

"I know when you're hiding things. You get shifty and weird. You fucked him, didn't you?"

I almost spray my screen with wine. "No," I cry, after thankfully managing to swallow it. "Christ, Tate. I'm not a whore."

"Never said you were. Rumor has it, though, that Kian is a freak between the sheets, and I know you could use a little bit of that in your life right now."

"Dude, you need to stop meddling. First Ryder and now Kian." I shake my head.

"You can thank me anytime," she says with a wide smile.

"I'll give you Ryder. He's…easy, in more ways than one. But I'm not fucking my boss." I'm actively trying not to let that happen.

But that kiss earlier…

Fuck. That was hot as hell. I can only imagine how good things could have been if I hadn't pushed him away.

"So, what are you hiding? And don't try to tell me that it's nothing."

"Ugh, you're a pain in my ass, Tatum Grace Warner-Callahan."

She glares at me, silently demanding the information I'm holding back.

"Fine. Kian suggested we fake date so that he can lose his stage-five clingers for a bit and I have a reason for Matt to leave me the fuck alone." I say it in such a rush that I'm not sure any of it was intelligible. But it's out.

Silence follows my confession, so I can only assume she heard me loud and clear and is trying to process.

"Okay," Tate says, holding her hand up to the screen. "Let me get this straight." I roll my eyes and take another sip of wine. "Kian Callahan—the Kian Callahan, CFO of Callahan Enterprises— who has never dated anyone for more than a few hours, has asked you, my best friend, his assistant, to be his first girlfriend."

"Fake, Tate. Fake girlfriend."

"Oh my god, we're going to be sisters-in-law."

"Okay, now you've lost it. I shouldn't have said anything," I mutter, regretting this whole conversation.

"No, no, you absolutely should have. This is fucking epic, Lor."

"It's fake, Tate. There is nothing worthy of anything even close to epic. It's a means to an end to give us both a breather from the exhausting dating world."

"So you're seriously telling me that if the opportunity presented itself, you wouldn't screw his nerdy numbers brain out?"

I swallow thickly, praying that this is one instance where she can't read every single one of my thoughts.

"Knew it. I fucking knew it." She laughs, a wide smile splitting her face.

"I'm not screwing his brain out. We're just…"

"Faking it. I bet there wouldn't be any faking with him, though. I'm just saying."

"You're almost as insufferable as he is," I complain.

"So, what's the plan? Fake dates? Making excuses to be photographed together?"

The more she talks, the more I realize that this whole plan is insane.

Just look at the last twenty-four hours. I've kissed him twice.

Twice.

I've felt his body pressed up against mine, and I've spent longer than acceptable imagining just what it could be like if there weren't a couple of layers of clothes between us.

His canceling tonight was the best thing that could have happened.

"I'm going to tell him no," I state firmly.

Decision made. This is a very, very bad idea.

The worst.

"And you think he'll accept that?"

"He's already canceled our first date."

"Ooooh, that explains your hair," she says, making a point of glancing at my freshly styled curls.

My insides twist up painfully. I went to so much effort, and look where I've been left.

Alone on my couch with a glass of wine.

"It needed washing after the gym. There is nothing more to it."

"Why has he canceled?"

"Didn't say. But it's for the best. I'm his assistant. He's my boss. That is all there needs to be between us."