Chapter 43 FORTY-THREE
Two days. Two whole days of basically not seeing each other even though they lived in the same house.
Callum left early, came home late. She heard him sometimes, moving around after midnight. But he stayed in his room and she stayed in hers and they were back to being strangers who shared a home.
Lennox buried herself in the investigation. Anything to not think about him or the gym or how her body still remembered exactly what his hands felt like.
She'd traced three of the shell companies now. Followed the money trail back to accounts that needed board-level authorization to open. Which meant whoever was doing this had serious access. Real power.
She pulled up the board roster. Nine people total.
Victor Harding. Obviously on the list. The patriarch's old business partner, fifteen percent voting shares, always around offering advice.
Callum Westbrook. She didn't want to put him on the list but she had to be objective. He had complete access to everything.
Cole Westbrook. Same as Callum. Full access, full authority.
Margaret Chen. CFO. Been with the company twenty years. Quiet, competent, boring.
Robert Sterling. Head of operations. Loud, aggressive, definitely the type to think he deserved more money.
James Liu. Technology division. Smart, ambitious, young enough to be reckless.
Patricia Westbrook. Technically on the board though mostly ceremonial. But she had access if she wanted it.
David Park. Legal counsel. Knew every loophole, every way to hide money.
Elena Rodriguez. Marketing and PR. Seemed unlikely but Lennox had learned not to assume.
Nine people. One of them was stealing millions. Maybe more than one working together.
She crossed off Patricia immediately. The woman was obsessed with the family legacy, would never risk it. Probably not Callum or Cole either, they had too much to lose. But she couldn't completely eliminate them yet, she had to follow the evidence.
That left six serious suspects.
Her eyes were burning from staring at spreadsheets when she finally closed her laptop. Almost seven PM. Her stomach was growling. She'd eaten a protein bar for lunch and nothing since.
The Chef had left chicken and vegetables prepped in the fridge with instructions. Lennox stared at them for a minute, then thought fuck it and actually started cooking.
She never cooked. Didn't really know how beyond basics. But the instructions were clear and she needed something to do with her hands besides obsess over financial records.
The chicken was in the oven when she heard the elevator.
Callum walked in, stopped when he saw her in the kitchen. She was actually cooking, with an apron on and everything.
"What's this?"
"Food. I'm making food." She stirred something on the stove. "I told Henri not to come today, that I'd handle dinner."
He just stood there looking confused. "You cook?"
"Apparently. We'll see if it's edible."
"Do you want help or..."
"Just sit. It's almost done."
He sat. Loosened his tie. Watched her move around the kitchen like she was a science experiment.
Fifteen minutes later she served chicken that was only slightly dry and vegetables that were mostly not burned. Sat down across from him with her own plate.
They ate in silence. Awkward, heavy silence where every clink of silverware sounded too loud.
Finally he put his fork down. "We can't keep avoiding each other."
"I'm not avoiding you."
"Lennox."
"What? We've both been busy."
"Bullshit. I've been staying late on purpose and you know it."
She stabbed a piece of chicken. "Fine. I've been avoiding you too. Happy?"
"Not particularly." He leaned back in his chair. "This is ridiculous. We live together. We're going to run into each other."
"I'm aware."
"So what do we do about it?"
"About what?"
"About this. Us. Whatever the hell is happening here."
She put her fork down. Looked at him properly. "Fine. You want me to say it? I can't stop thinking about the gym. About San Francisco. About you. I'm confused and frustrated and this fake marriage is getting really complicated and I don't know what to do about any of it."
He didn't say anything for a second. Just looked at her with those dark eyes that saw too much.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "All of that. Same."
They stared at each other across the table. The air felt thick.
"So what do we do?" she asked. "Keep pretending? Keep avoiding each other until the year is up?"
"No. That's clearly not working." He ran his hand through his hair. "Maybe we stop overthinking it."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we're both adults. We're attracted to each other, that's obvious. And we're stuck in this situation for at least a year." He paused. "Maybe we just give in to the physical aspect of it."
She blinked. "That's the vaguest plan I've ever heard."
"You have a better one?"
She didn't. That was the problem. She had no idea what to do here. They'd already crossed lines, already broken their own rules. Trying to go back wasn't working.
"So what, we just sleep together? Casually?"
"Why not? We're adults. We can handle it."
"Can we?"
"I don't know. But trying to fight it isn't working either."
He had a point. A terrible, dangerous point but still.
She picked up her fork again. "This is insane."
"Probably."
They finished dinner. The silence felt different now. Less awkward but more charged.
She got up to clear the plates. He helped without being asked. They did dishes together, moving around each other in the small kitchen space. His arm brushed hers when he reached for a towel. She felt it like an electric current.
When everything was clean and put away, she dried her hands and turned to leave the kitchen.
He caught her hand.
Just held it. His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and solid and gentle.
She stopped. Looked at him.
"For the record," he said, voice low, "I'm not just attracted to you. That sounds too… simple." His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "I'm completely consumed by you. I think about you constantly. The way you look in the morning with messy hair and no makeup. How you bite your lip when you're concentrating. The sounds you make when I touch you." His eyes locked on hers. "I've tried to stop. Tried to convince myself it's just physical. But I don't know what to do about that except stop fighting it."
Her breath caught. Heat flooded her face. Her whole body was suddenly on fire.
He let go of her hand. Stepped back.
"Good night, Lennox."
Then he walked away. Down the hall to his room.
Left her standing there in the kitchen, heart pounding, face burning, completely unable to move or think or do anything except replay his words over and over.
I'm completely consumed by you.
Oh fuck.
She was in so much trouble.