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1. Calista

1

CALISTA

“ H ave you already done the morning coffee run?” Adam asks as he passes by my desk. He adjusts his diamond-studded watch, the glare of the fluorescent lights bouncing off the reflective surface and nearly blinding me. Adam isn’t looking at me, which isn’t surprising. No one here does. I’d be surprised if he even knew my name. “It’s a simple yes or no question, Katie.”

“Calista,” I correct him for the tenth time since starting this job two months ago.

"I'll take a triple shot latte with one pump of hazelnut," he orders, his gaze still locked on his stupid accessory that costs more than a year's worth of my rent.

“I’m actually not doing a coffee run today–”

“So if you can get that on my desk before my nine-thirty meeting, that’d be great.” Adam starts to walk away, clearly not hearing a single word I’ve said.

“No,” I blurt out, far louder than I intended.

Adam stops in his tracks and shoots me a look over his shoulder. I want to curl in on myself and hide under my desk, but I swallow my fear and voice my opinion. No one else is going to stand up for me, so I need to stand up for myself. That was the whole point of getting this job and choosing to stay behind here in Texas after my mom left for one of her grand adventures, right?

“No?” he repeats incredulously.

“I-I… I, uh…” I clear my throat and try again, sounding more confident this time. “I passed the last of the required classes and I got my official real estate license over the weekend,” I inform my co-worker.

Technically, that’s what he is now. We’re both real estate agents at Dunham Realty. Sure, Adam has the top sales every quarter while I have yet to even schedule a showing, but still. My time is no less valuable than his.

Adam scoffs at me, his lips twisting into an ugly, hateful smirk. “A license is only a piece of paper. The last time I checked, you have no clients and no sales. Seems like you have a lot of work to do if you’re going to earn the title of a real estate agent."

I narrow my eyes at him and cross my arms over my chest in a defensive stance. My mama didn't raise a pushover. She raised a strong, independent woman… riddled with anxiety and abandonment issues, but still. Fuck this guy.

“Then it seems my time would be better spent finding clients, don’t you think?” Every muscle is tense to the point of shaking but I don’t back down.

Adam is about to insult me again but is interrupted by the elevator doors opening with a ding. Lisa Dunham, owner and CEO of Dunham Realty, steps onto the floor, her standard six-inch stiletto heels clicking against the tile as she walks toward us. Adam straightens up and combs his fingers through his hair before giving Lisa a cheesy wink.

The woman either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Calista,” she says, turning to face me. I gulp, unaware that she even knew I existed. I was hired after one interview with the HR department and then I was set up with an online course to get my license. I’ve only seen Lisa in passing, but she’s a legend.

“Yes. Hi. That’s me,” I say awkwardly, standing from my seat.

Adam wastes no time inserting himself into the conversation. “Looking lovely as always,” he says, saddling up next to her. Lisa has large designer sunglasses on, but I swear I can hear her eyes rolling to the back of her head with his slimy attempt at flirting with the boss.

“Follow me,” is all Lisa says before she turns on a dime and heads toward her office. Adam steps in line behind her, but Lisa pauses long enough to pull her glasses down her nose and look at him over the rims of her giant shades. “Not you,” she snaps. Her sharp brown eyes dart from Adam’s shocked face to mine. “You.”

I nod my head more times than necessary and stumble out from behind my desk. Adam sears me with a look full of contempt, but I don’t care. I have bigger things to worry about. Like being called into the freakin’ CEO’s office the day after getting my real estate license.

I need this job. I need this job. I really, really need this job, I repeat to myself as I walk behind Lisa Dunam and follow her into her office.

The stunning woman takes off her sunglasses and sets down her Prada bag before taking a seat in her luxurious leather office chair. I stand in front of her, unsure what to do or say. Lisa is in her sixties but she doesn’t look a day over forty. With short black hair cut in an asymmetrical bob, bright red lipstick to match the red bottoms of her Louboutin shoes, and a tight dress that shows off her ample breasts, Lisa Dunham is a powerful bombshell with the bank account of a real estate mogul to back it up.

“If Adam didn’t make me so much damn money I’d shove him out a window,” Lisa says flatly.

I blink a few times, not sure how to respond. When the corner of her lip ticks up in amusement, I can’t help but laugh. Her eyes soften ever so much, but she never shows me her full smile. While I admire Lisa and the empire she’s built, I don’t envy the bullshit she’s undoubtedly put up with from men at every level of business. It’s no surprise she’s been labeled the Ice Queen of Real Estate.

“I was going to give Adam a new client today,” Lisa continues, motioning for me to sit in the chair across from her desk. “But I truly can’t stand him. Plus, I heard I have a brand new licensed agent, so it’s only fair to give you a shot.”

“Really? I mean, thank you,” I say, the eagerness in my voice making me wince.

“It’s not a done deal yet,” Lisa warns, those brown eyes cutting me to my core. “Marsha secured the client and set up a showing at a property this morning. Then she went and had her baby over the weekend.”

“Oh, how exciting!” I say, picturing Marsha’s glowing face from the last time I saw her in the office. This is her first baby and she’s been talking about the nursery for months, as well as showing everyone all the cute little outfits she has all ready for her daughter.

“Inconvenient, I think you mean,” Lisa replies. I’m about to ask if Marsha and her daughter are healthy and happy, but I have a feeling Lisa doesn’t have time for such conversations. “Anyway, I need you to study up on this client and then prepare the property to be shown.”

I nod, reaching out with shaking hands to take the folder of information from Lisa. “Of course. You said the showing is today?” I ask as I flip through a few pages of information.

“It’s in one hour.”

My vision goes blurry for a second and I blink a few times to clear the fog. Surely, she didn’t just tell me my first client is expecting me to show up at a property I know nothing about in one hour. Right?

“Um, like, one hour as in… sixty minutes?”

Lisa raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me, her eyes scanning my face and watching my every move. “Is that a problem?”

“Well, yes. I mean, no. I mean… I’ll get right on it.”

Lisa’s scrutinizing gaze never leaves mine. “If you’re not ready–”

“I’m ready,” I reassure her.

“Good. I’m throwing you in the deep end, Calista. Show me that you can swim with the sharks and you’ll always have a job with me.”

I take a deep breath and nod before standing up. Lisa does the same. “Thank you for this opportunity,” I say with more confidence than I feel at the moment. “I won’t let you down.”

Lisa Dunham dismisses me with a tilt of her chin before she sits down and begins typing away at her computer. I’m halfway out of her office doorway when she calls out, “I just sent you an email with the address. Come back with a sale or an alternative property to show.”

She’s already moved on to the next thing by the time her words register. Still, I silently nod as I shuffle my way out of her corner office and back to my sad cubicle. Adam is nowhere in sight, thank god. This might not be what I was expecting to happen today, but it’s better than going on coffee runs. Especially for that asshole.

I take some time to look over the client file of one Mr. Domino Gabriel. The specifics are vague, but Marsha clearly talked to Mr. Gabriel enough to find a place worth showing. He's looking for some kind of clubhouse… which is a little odd. Dunham Realty is mostly involved in commercial real estate like office buildings, hotels, restaurants, and things like that. I guess a clubhouse is a mix of all three in a way.

After looking up the property online and taking a few notes on which details to highlight, I notice how far away it is. Cursing under my breath, I gather up my purse along with the client file and make a mad dash to the elevator bank. Even though I know it won't help, I push the down button repeatedly.

The property is on the outskirts of town, way out west where I didn’t think anything had been developed. I guess I’m getting a crash course in all things real estate today.

“This beautiful four thousand square foot building is nestled right between Old Highway Sixty and Plymouth River,” I tell my steering wheel as I merge into traffic. “The open floor plan allows for unlimited modifications to be made depending on your needs.”

I continue practicing my sales pitch while speeding toward the destination. Dammit! I should be there already to unlock everything and air out the place. At this rate, I’ll be lucky to get there before the client does.

Ten minutes later, I whip my ancient Honda Accord into the gravel lot of the property I’m showing, kicking up a cloud of dust as I go. Not a good look, but I’m out of time. After putting the car in park, I skim over the file one last time, committing each detail to memory.

I'm so frazzled about being late and unprepared that I didn't even notice the large, looming figure already waiting for me. I take a deep breath, attempting to gather my thoughts before facing my first-ever client.

Opening my door, I step out onto the uneven gravel, teetering slightly as I straighten up. Good god, the man leaning against his motorcycle is massive. His arms are crossed over his chest and I can’t help but notice his biceps are nearly as big as my head. The sun is behind him, silhouetting his giant frame and making him appear even more god-like. Are those tree trunks his thighs?

Say something , my brain shouts at me. Instead, my jaw drops slightly when he stands to his full height, the top of his head blocking out the sun completely as his shadow falls on me. I swallow thickly, shoving down the anxiety of the situation and covering it up in the same bright, happy mask I’ve worn for so long.

“Mr. Gabriel,” I say, closing my door and taking a few steps toward him. “I’m terribly sorry to keep you waiting. I– oh!”

A large piece of gravel gets stuck in my left shoe, knocking me off balance. My ankle wobbles and I try spreading my arms out to keep myself stable, but my purse gets in the way. I have too much inertia behind me now and the best I can hope for is to twist so I don't face-plant into the rough, rocky ground.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tense my muscles and prepare for impact…

Only it never comes.

Instead, I’m surrounded by warmth and greeted with a hearty growl as the beast of a man I’ve never met folds me up into his arms.

Is it crazy that for the first time in my life, I feel… like I'm home?

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