I take one of the seats lining the wall outside the senator’s office and stretch out my legs in front of me, crossing them at the ankle, then fold my arms over my chest. I can hear the senator’s raised voice from out here and I don’t like it, not one bit. But I stay put. Kalista asked me to wait out here, and that’s what I’m going to do. For now, but if he keeps it up I’ll be ignoring her wishes.
A minute later, Kalista burst out the doors, rage radiating off her in red-hot waves. I jolt out of my chair, ready to go rip his head off for putting that look on her beautiful face but she grabs my wrist as I pass her, and I let her drag me along behind her until we’re at the elevator bay at the end of the walkway.
“What the hell was that?” I demand.
She clenches then releases her fists at her sides, over and over again.
The elevator dings and we step inside. An older woman tries to enter with us but one look from Kalista has her backing out and apologising as she does so.
I wait for the doors to slide shut again before crowding her against the wall, holding her fuming face in my palms and ask her, “What. Just. Happened?”
She locks her jaw and tries to swat my hands away, but I’m stronger and more determined. She relents, her head dropping, shrouding her eyes with her blonde locks, hiding from me. Shifting one hand to her chin, I tilt it back up until my eyes meet hers. “Talk to me.”
Her eyes thin to slits. “He wants me to meet one of his colleague’s sons. He does this every couple of months. I refuse, he gets the shits, and I end up caving and going on the bloody date,” she says with disgust.
I rear back. A date? The fuck did she just say? Uh, no, I don’t fucking think so.
Kalista must read my expression. I’m doing nothing to hide my thoughts from her; I want her to see how much the thought of her going on a date with another man pisses me the hell off. And then she smiles. It’s only a small one, but it’s something.
“I didn’t cave this time,” she tells me quietly.
I blink at her dumbly for a moment, then lower my head and kiss her soft mouth once, then twice, before sliding my tongue along the seam of her pump pink lips until she parts them for me and I push inside, my tongue finding hers in an instant.
Before I can get too carried away I force myself to pull back, press one more kiss to her lips, then take a step away just in time for the elevator to ping and two men in dress pants and white button-downs with ties step inside the metal box with us.
She gives me a sly grin then straightens, allowing the ice queen façade slip back into place again.
The two men exit on the ground level, and we continue down to the basement parking. When we’re back in the car, I ask her, “Who did he want to set you up with?”
Kalista licks her pretty lips and I have to stop myself from reaching for her again. She shrugs as if it’s no big deal that Daddy wants her to date a billionaire, and says, “Tad Maplewood.”
And yes, the Maplewoods are old money, just like the Astors, except their money came from their namesake—maple. And they are loaded. Fully loaded. Their bank accounts make mine look like I have petty cash, and I’m not struggling to make ends meet by any means.
I am not a jealous man, but right now I’m kind of wishing my account had a few more zeros in there. How the fuck am I supposed to measure up to that kind of wealth?
I stay stuck inside my head for the rest of the afternoon. It’s not until dinnertime that I realise I’ve been too occupied with Kalista to get more groceries. Opening Kalista’s fridge is fucking depressing. I hope I missed something worth eating at the back of a shelf, but no. Nothing in there can be considered edible.
Everything in her fridge is packaged into individual meals or the makings of a meal. The problem is there’s no meat or anything with flavour in there, and most of the packages have the word diet on them. Ugh. I shudder. That’s a solid no from me. I can’t eat this shit.
Closing the shiny black door, I lean back against it for a moment as I try to remember what takeouts we drove past today. There was a Chinese place, a kebab place, a Subway, and I’m pretty sure I saw a Mexican place somewhere close by too. “Kalista,” I call, “Is there a Mexican place around here?”
I hear the sound of her feet padding down the hallway, then her head pops around the corner into the kitchen. “Umm, I think so? Papa Juan’s?”
Nodding I pull my phone out and search the name and area. Sure enough, there’s one just three blocks from here. “What do you feel like? I’m getting a double order of fajitas with an extra side of avocado.”
She comes all the way into the kitchen, crossing her arms over her chest when she stops in front of me. “What’s wrong with the food I have here?”
She can’t be serious. But the look on her face is telling me that yes, yes, she is serious and she wants to kick my arse for not wanting to eat her food. “Sweetness,” I say gently, “your food is shit. Anything with the word diet on it can’t be good for you. Why do you even have that crap? You’re perfect. You don’t need to diet.”
Her expression is stuck somewhere between pissed off and flattered. I can tell she can’t decide which one she’s feeling more because she still hasn’t said anything. It takes a solid three minutes before she says, “Mind your own business, and I want some enchiladas,” then she spins on her sock-covered foot and storms out.
I dial the number for the Mexican joint and order our food, smiling the whole time I’m placing our order.
Twenty minutes later when When the food arrives Kalista joins me in the lounge room, wearing soft purple sleep shorts, a matching tank, and the matching socks she was wearing before. My eyes fixate on her chest the moment she enters the room. Her nipples harden under my gaze, and so does my cock. I lick my lips, remembering how sweet she tastes and how much I enjoyed sucking on those twin peaks just three months ago.
“Stop that,” she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest, blocking my view of her delectable breasts.
My eyes flick back up to hers. She’s expecting an apology, but she’s not going to get one. “Hungry?” I ask, letting her see my thoughts. “I’m starving,” I say with a wicked grin, allowing my eyes to roam over and devour her body.
A soft flush creeps up her exposed neck to her cheek. “Ah, yeah, a little.”
I love that I have this effect on her. That she can’t keep up the ice queen act when she can see how much I want her. Tapping the spot on the couch by my side with one hand, I summon her over, curling my index finger.
Cautiously, she steps farther into the room. I think she’s doing as I ask, but at the last minute she drops down into the single-seater a few feet away. I mock pout. “Do I smell bad?” I sniff under my pits.
She snorts. “Quite the opposite. That’s why I’m sitting over here,” she says with pride. Her chin lifts in a so-there gesture. “You’re too tempting, and lines have been drawn. I plan to stick to them. We don’t need to complicate things any more than they already are by playing house when we’re around the apartment.”
My eyes widen at her response. I wasn’t expecting that much of an answer. Or one so well thought out either. I blink at her, then shift my focus to the Mexican food spread out on the coffee table in front of me as I brush my palm against my jaw, contemplating my own response. “You’re right. Having you close, allowing myself to get lost in you for even a moment compromises my ability to protect you. I have to rein myself in if this is ever going to go beyond what we shared at the wedding.”
Kalista remains silent. But when I go to continue, she blurts out, “What do you mean, beyond what we shared at the wedding? Are you—I mean, do you wan—” She pauses, tucks one of her legs under her butt, and starts tugging on her earlobe. “What do you mean by that?”
My brows shoot up, picking up on the nervousness in her tone. Doesn’t she know? Have I not been clear on where I stand? Oh fuck, does she think all I want from her is sex?
Standing, I take two long strides, then kneel in front of her, taking her clammy hands in mine. “Don’t you know, sweetness? I wasn’t just talking about sex the other night when I told you I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I first saw you.” I shrug. “I mean, yeah, sex is up there, but it’s not all I missed about you.”
She blinks long and slow. “Missed,” she breathes, it’s a statement not a question.
The corner of my mouth lifts in a small grin. “Fuck yes I missed you. I know we didn’t do a lot of talking that night, but I knew you were something special. You were funny, mouthy, and smart. That’s the trifecta, baby. Every man’s dream. Then throw your fucking perfect curves into the mix…” I shake my head and bite down on my bottom lip. “Well, let’s just say you’re my walking, talking wet dream. And I can’t wait to pick up where we left off and keep unwrapping the layers you’ve wrapped yourself in until I get to the woman beneath. Because I just know she’s amazing.”
A huge smile stretches across her face, full of happiness and contentment. I haven’t seen her do that since I saw her dancing at the wedding. But this time, I put it there. And damn, if that doesn’t make me feel like a fucking legend right now.
Her skin is soft and smooth against my fingertips as I stroke the backs of her hands. “So, you get what I’m saying now?”
She nods. A single tear skates down and over the arc of her cheek. “I never thought I’d have the chance to even meet someone who truly cared for me. Who wanted to know me, to spend time with me.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “High-society wives are to be seen as a symbol of a man’s worth, his status and power. It has nothing to do with how he feels about her. I’ve never wanted that, but I don’t so much get a say.”
I narrow my eyes on her. “Explain that last part,” I demand, my words coming across a lot harsher than I mean them to.
She licks her lips and drops her gaze to our joined hands, then sighs so deeply her whole chest deflates until she’s hunched over. “Being my father’s daughter comes with expectations. They extend to whom I associate with, the functions I must attend, my career path or lack thereof, and the men I date.”
Anger begins to simmer beneath my skin. I attempt to hide it. It’s not her fault that her father is a prick, but my jaw is clenching so hard I feel the ache in my temples. I stay silent, desperately trying to calm my reaction.
Kalista flinches, and she yanks her hands out of mine. “Ow,” she shrieks. “My hands! Abe, you’re squeezing too tight,” she says in a pained whisper.
I release her immediately. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” I say, holding my hands up and away from her.
She’s confused by my anger; I can see it in her eyes and the tilt of her chin as she watches me. “What’s wrong?” she asks carefully. “Did I say something?”
Closing my eyes, I take several calming breaths. “Kinda,” I murmur. “Is there anything he doesn’t control?”
She stiffens at my blunt question. “What do you mean?”
I shake my head, push up to my feet, pacing. “I’m reading between the lines here, but stop me if I’m wrong,” I say, and stop right in front of her with my hands braced on my hips to stop me from punching the fucking wall.
I’m breathing hard as the words tumble from my mouth. “Your father chooses who your friends are, he dictates where you go and what you do, he mandates that you must not pursue a career of your own because he needs to use you as his little pawn, and he’ll eventually marry you off to some douchebag that fits his agenda. Did I miss anything?” I’m out of breath by the time I finish speaking.
Kalista’s skin is ashen and beads of sweat line her forehead, but her eyes are blazing, contradicting her sickly appearance. They narrow into silver-laced bullets as her fingers dig into the arms of the couch she’s sitting on. “How dare you?” she seethes. “How dare you speak to me like that and insinuate I am nothing more than my father’s puppet?” she hisses while pushing to her feet.
Fuck simmering. My anger is boiling over now. “Are you fucking kidding me? I just spelt it out in layman’s terms for you, sweetness. They were your own words played back to you.”
She takes a step closer, fire burning in the depth of her blue eyes, rage radiating from her. “You have no idea what my life is like. You have no right to judge me,” she declares, coming so close our heaving chests almost touch.
I balk at her assessment of my comments. My palms curve around her rigid shoulders. “I’m not judging you, Kalista. I’m judging your fucking arsehole of a father. That piece of shit isn’t content enough by having a fucking incredible daughter like you but he has to own your life too.” I shake my head. “He’s a fucking megalomaniac. Why do you allow him to use you in his pursuit for more power?”
The pain in her eyes is evident even though I know she is trying desperately to keep it hidden beneath her icy exterior. But the more time we spend together, the easier it’s becoming for me to see through it.