Chapter 34 GETTING BACK AT HER
I knew that voice even in my sleep. It was Venessa.
"Get out," I said, but the words came out slurred and heavy, lacking any real force behind them.
I heard her close the door behind her and then the soft click of the lock engaging. "Your father asked me to check on you. He said you've been stressed lately and he wanted me to make sure you were okay."
Of course my father had sent her. He was probably still hoping that if he pushed us together enough times, something would finally stick.
That I would eventually give in and marry Vanessa and unite our two families the way he and James Sterling had been planning since we were teenagers.
I turned around in my chair to look at her, and the room tilted sickeningly before settling back into place. Everything was moving in slow motion, like I was underwater.
She was wearing a tight red dress that showed off every curve of her body. The neckline plunged so low that I could see the swell of her breasts, and the hem was so short that it barely covered her ass.
The kind of dress that was designed to get attention, to make men look twice, to make it very clear what she was offering.
It did absolutely nothing for me.
"I said get out, Vanessa." I tried to put some force behind the words, but they came out flat and emotionless.
"No." She walked toward me slowly, her heels clicking on the floor with each step. "I've been in love with you for ten years, Callum. Ten years of waiting for you to notice me, to see me as more than just James Sterling's daughter. Ten years of watching you chase after other women, of watching you ignore me, of waiting for my turn. And I'm tired of waiting."
She was close now, close enough that I could smell her perfume. Something expensive and floral and cloying that made my head swim even more than it already was.
"I don't want you," I said, but the words came out without any real conviction behind them.
The Absinthe had stripped away my ability to sound convincing or firm or like anything other than exactly what I was in that moment, which was drunk and broken and empty.
"I think you do. I think you're just too proud to admit it." She reached out and ran her hand down my chest, and I was too drunk and too tired and too empty to push her away. "I think you're lonely and angry and tired of chasing after a woman who doesn't want you back. I think you need someone to make you forget about her, even if it's just for a little while."
"Don't talk about her," I managed to say, but my voice had no strength in it.
"Why not? She's the one making you miserable. She's dating Matthias Hale. She's moved on. She's forgotten all about you and your brother and whatever it is you thought you had with her." Her hands went to my tie, loosening it slowly, her fingers working with practiced ease. "Don't you think it's time you did the same? Don't you think it's time you let someone else make you feel good?"
I should have pushed her away. Should have stood up and walked out of my own office if that's what it took to get away from her.
Should have done literally anything except sit there and let her continue touching me.
But the Absinthe had made everything slow and heavy, and my body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Moving seemed impossible. Caring about anything seemed impossible.
She unbuttoned the top button of my shirt, then the second, her fingers moving slowly down the line. I watched her do it with detached interest, like I was watching it happen to someone else.
"That's it," she murmured, her voice soft and encouraging like she was talking to a skittish animal. "Just relax. Stop fighting so hard. Let me take care of you for once."
Her hands slid inside my open shirt, running over my chest, her palms warm against my skin. I closed my eyes because looking at her face made me feel sick, made the room spin faster, made everything worse.
She pressed herself against me, her body soft and warm and completely wrong. I felt absolutely nothing. No desire. No want. No spark of interest.
Just emptiness and the distant burn of rage and the numbing fog of too much Absinthe on an empty stomach.
But she didn't seem to notice or care that I wasn't responding. She pushed my suit jacket off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor in a heap.
Her hands went to my belt, unbuckling it slowly while she kissed my neck, her lips leaving trails of lipstick on my skin.
I stood there like a statue, letting her do whatever she wanted because I was too drunk to care and too empty to stop her.
My mind was somewhere else entirely, stuck in Nova's office watching her kiss Matthias Hale, watching her choose him over me, watching everything I wanted slip through my fingers.
She pulled my shirt out of my pants and ran her hands over my bare chest, her breathing coming faster now, her excitement building even though I was giving her nothing in return.
"I've wanted this for so long," she breathed against my throat, her voice thick with desire that I didn't share. "I've wanted you for so long. You have no idea how many nights I've thought about this, about what it would be like to finally have you."
She grabbed my hand and placed it on her breast, squeezing my fingers around the soft flesh, trying to make me participate.
I could feel her hardened nipple through the thin fabric of her dress, but it did nothing to stir any interest in me whatsoever.
Then she took my other hand and slid it down to her ass, pressing herself even closer against me, grinding her hips forward in a way that was probably supposed to be seductive.
"Touch me, Callum. Please. I need you to touch me. I need you to want me."
My hands moved on their own, gripping her ass, pulling her against me, but it was purely not with my clear eyes.
Like I was operating on autopilot while my actual consciousness was somewhere else entirely, still stuck watching Nova with Matthias.
She moaned and ground herself harder against me, trying desperately to get some kind of reaction, trying to feel something hard pressing back against her soft body.
But there was nothing. I was too drunk and too angry and too focused on Nova to feel anything at all for the woman currently throwing herself at me.
Vanessa didn't seem to notice or didn't care. She grabbed the back of my desk chair and spun it around to face her, then pushed me down into it with surprising strength for someone so small.
I fell into the chair heavily, my head spinning violently, the room tilting at crazy angles around me. I gripped the armrests to keep myself from falling out of the chair entirely.
She straddled my lap immediately, her dress riding up high on her thighs as she settled her weight onto me. Her hands went to my face, gripping my jaw and tilting my head up to force me to look at her.
"Kiss me," she demanded, her voice breathless and needy.
I kissed her because it was easier than arguing, because the Absinthe had stripped away my ability to care about anything, because what did it matter who I was kissing when the only person I wanted was with someone else