Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Now

Retrospectively, Callum should have known this would have happened the moment he'd seen her walk into the bar.

To begin with, his sole purpose for coming out tonight had been to get completely, obliterating, blindingly sloshed before stumbling back to his flat. And when he was going through these moments, he liked to drink alone and avoid situations like this.

She'd been coming onto him for months.

It had been subtle at first—a flash of too much leg here, a low-cut top and careful dips as she'd set assignments on his desk there.

Now, with her whisky-flavored tongue shoved down his throat and her hand down his waistband, stroking his hard-on, the subtlety was gone.

And there was the fact that, even when she wasn't throwing herself on top of him in the back alley near his flat, Miranda Kaster was sexy. He'd always had a thing for brunettes and Miranda had long, dark tresses that were currently draped across his face.

His brain blanked for a moment, lost in the sensual pleasure of her fingers wrapping around him.

Fuck, yes.

Except . . .

He never, ever slept with women he worked with.

Ever.

Especially not women who worked for him. His father had told him a long time ago never to "dip his pen in the company ink," and if he'd listened . . . maybe everything would be different.

At the very least, he would have had no reason to get drunk tonight.

The hell with all that.

His head pounded from the effort to slog through the dizzy thoughts. He'd been fine—he thought—until he'd started the walk back home, and she'd followed him.

"Oh my God, Callum. I want you to fuck me," she whispered against his lips.

Focus.

He didn't respond, his fingers feeling numb as he caressed her breasts—under her shirt—but not below the bra.

Sex. That's all this is. That's all it ever is.

And Miranda would probably be good.

But taking a woman he worked with back to his place? That was another rule he'd never broken.

"Here?"

"It has to be your place. Surely, you know my flatmate has a crush." She nibbled on his earlobe, leaving it wet with moisture.

Her flatmate.

Callum closed his eyes, trying not to lose his mind as she knelt in front of him. The whole alley seemed to spin, which wasn't a good sign either.

Her flatmate, Lydia Winnick.

Callum set his hand over hers as she reached for his zipper.

"I can't." He cleared his throat, drunken desire screaming at him. He'd let the kiss spiral wildly out of control, and that was a regret he'd have to live with. But he could put a stop to it at least.

Miranda looked up at him, then laughed lightly. "You might be the first man who has ever said no to a jobby." She tugged on his zipper, ignoring his hand.

"I'm serious." Callum moved her hand again, then helped her stand despite his unsteadiness. "I'm going to request an Uber for you." He pulled his phone out and opened it.

Miranda stared at him as though she couldn't process his words. "You must be joking." She took one more step toward him, and when he continued on to the app, she knocked his phone out of his hand. It clattered dully on the pavement. "Bastard."

She started out of the alleyway, her heels clicking as her hips swayed with her flight.

Just let her go.

Not that it was entirely responsible either. But this wasn't an unsafe area.

Gritting his teeth, he collected his phone and then followed her.

"Miranda—"

"I can get my own Uber, thank you."

He wouldn't be pathetic and apologize. She'd initiated the kiss. Found him in the bar and sat beside him to flirt.

Though, it wasn't as if you didn't know what she was after.

And, maybe in a small way, he'd been after it, too. Her company, while unexpected, hadn't been entirely unwelcome. With each drink, he'd told himself to go home, and now he was here, dealing with a furious woman.

This won't go over well at work either.

"I shouldn't have allowed it to happen."

Miranda whirled around and threw him a glare. "Don't you dare bullshit me with some ridiculous attempt at ‘values,' Callum. You may be discreet, but you still have a reputation. You arrogant wanker."

Her words hardened his resolve, and he drew his core in. "I don't fuck women I work with. Especially not if I'm drunk."

"I've felt the energy between us. We could be good together. I wouldn't tell anyone we're together if that's what you're worried about."

He nearly choked at her suggestion. Together? She was getting ahead of herself. "I don't do relationships either. Unless you'd like to hand in your resignation to me, I'm at a bit of an impasse."

She flinched, then stalked closer. "I'm not going to give up my career for a one-night stand, Callum. No matter how good it might be."

"And I wasn't asking you to." He narrowed his gaze at her. "Good night."

Miranda didn't move. "Or you could recommend me for a promotion. To the position Luca Harris vacated last month. Then I wouldn't be working directly under you anymore, anyway."

He didn't want to believe that this was what her attempt to seduce him had been about . . . but could it be?

Chuckling, Callum shook his head. "Or I could just tell you no. Like I already did."

Fury lit her eyes, and her hand rose. He stepped back before she swung to slap him. That was something he didn't want to deal with tonight. "Good night, Miranda. If you're lucky, I may even forget this happened."

He went the opposite way down the alleyway, away from her, the spins hitting him hard. As he reached the other side of the alley, he stepped out of it, then threw up on the pavement.

He hoped Miranda had gone on her way and hadn't heard him. Not that it mattered.

Right now, the only important thing was getting back to his bed.

He had an early flight to catch the following morning and only a few hours to sleep.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed his sister.

Isla picked up after the first ring. "Why are you calling me so late?"

"Because I'm sloshed, and I want you to keep talking to me. Make sure I don't wind up deciding to take a nap on the tarmac and get run over."

"Callum." Isla's scolding tone was gentle. "You promised me last night you were fine."

"I lied." The taste of vomit hung in his mouth, and he suppressed the urge to throw up again. Too many nice rose gardens on this street for that.

"That's it. I'm changing my flight. I'll come with you tomorrow."

"And miss the audition you have on Saturday? Don't you dare. Besides, the flight is probably booked."

"You know, right now I feel like the elder sibling. And I don't like feeling like the elder sibling. It makes me cranky. This is going to be fine, Cal."

"I doubt it. Did I tell you Mum sent me photos of Sophia today? Not new ones, of course. Old ones. She took photographs of old photographs with her phone. Live view and everything. And not one or two. Over twenty of them."

"She lays it on so thick." Isla groaned. "I'll talk to her and tell her to give it a rest. But I really think she wants you to forgive her. So everything can just go back to the way it used to be."

"The way it used to be is that I was going to marry Sophia and that's what Mum wants. Hold on." Callum pulled the phone away from his ear and retched again, this time behind a parked car.

I'd hate to be the owner of the car in the morning.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he returned the phone to his ear. "I'm back."

"That was disgusting. And I meant Mum wants you to forgive her , not Sophia."

"Well, I don't see either of those options happening." His building swam into view, and he crossed the street toward it.

"You know I support you no matter what, Cal, but . . . listen to you. You're miserable. And I can't remember the last time I saw you truly happy. You won't find what you're looking for in a bottle of scotch or between some random woman's legs. Your solutions aren't working, and I'm genuinely worried about you. It's been five years. If you're still so hung up on Sophia?—"

"Fuck, no. There's a difference between dreading seeing her and Mum and being hung up on her."

Seriously? Is that what she believes? This had nothing to do with Sophia and everything to do with not wanting to see Mum. Sophia being there made it worse, but not by much.

"Yes, because you've moved on so brilliantly."

"I'm fine." Callum scowled, his words sounding slightly slurred even to his own ears. The last thing he wanted was one of Isla's lectures right now. "Listen, I'm home now. I'll text you tomorrow after I land."

"You'd better. Let me know how things go with Mum."

He punched in the code on the building's security keypad as he hung up, then started up the stairs. Whatever idiotic idea had possessed him to live on the top floor now taunted him as he gripped the rail, feeling as though he might fall back at any moment.

He hadn't been this drunk for a long, long time.

No wonder he'd almost slipped up with Miranda.

Reaching his door at last, he unlocked it, then headed straight for the loo.

Morning would be here, unforgivingly, soon enough and he still had a flight to pack for.

At least the flight would be uneventful.