Chapter 54 FIFTY-FOUR
Sunday afternoon Lennox needed to get out of the penthouse, she needed air and space and to think about something other than suspects and lies and how screwed she was.
She walked to a coffee shop in the Village, the kind of place that was too crowded and too loud and exactly what she needed. Ordered an iced latte and found a corner table with her laptop.
She wasn't actually working. Just staring at the screen pretending to work while her brain spun in circles about the investigation.
Six suspects. She kept coming back to that. Six people who could've done this. But she still couldn't narrow it down further without more evidence.
"Is this seat taken?"
She looked up. A guy around her age, nice smile, holding a coffee cup. The place was packed so it made sense he'd ask.
"Go ahead," she said.
He sat down. Opened his own laptop. They worked in silence for maybe ten minutes before he spoke again.
"Sorry, I don't mean to bother you, but are you on the wifi? Mine keeps dropping."
"No, I'm just using my hotspot."
"Ah, okay. Thanks anyway." He smiled. "I'm Marcus, by the way."
"Lennox."
"Nice to meet you. Do you come here often? I'm new to the neighborhood and still figuring out the good spots."
She should've just answered politely and gone back to her laptop. Should've recognized this for what it was, a guy trying to start a conversation. But she was distracted and tired and didn't see it coming.
"Yeah, I come here sometimes. The coffee's decent."
"Good to know. What do you do? If you don't mind me asking. You look like you're working on something intense."
"Just boring computer stuff. Nothing interesting."
"I doubt that. You seem way too focused for it to be boring." He leaned forward slightly. "Are you a developer? Designer?"
"Analyst. Kind of. It's complicated."
"Mysterious. I like it." His smile got wider. "You know, if you ever want to grab coffee sometime and talk about complicated computer things, I'd be interested."
Oh. That's what this was.
Before she could respond, she felt a presence behind her. Then a hand on her shoulder, warm and possessive.
"Hey," Callum said, leaning down to kiss her temple. "Sorry I'm late."
She looked up at him, confused. "What are you doing here?"
"You said you'd be at the coffee shop. I finished at the office early." He pulled out the empty chair next to her, sat down close enough that their thighs touched. His hand stayed on her shoulder. "Who's your friend?"
The guy, Marcus, looked between them. "Oh, I didn't realize you were meeting someone. My bad."
"This is my husband," Lennox said, because apparently that's what Callum wanted her to say. "Callum, this is Marcus. He just sat down because the place is crowded."
"Right. Of course." Callum's smile didn't reach his eyes. His hand tightened slightly on her shoulder. "Nice to meet you, Marcus."
"Yeah, you too." Marcus stood up, grabbed his laptop. "I should let you guys catch up. Nice meeting you, Lennox."
He left. Found another table across the room.
Lennox turned to Callum. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"You showing up out of nowhere acting like you're marking territory."
"I wasn't acting like anything. You said you'd be here so I came to see you." He was still sitting too close, still touching her. "Who was that guy?"
"A stranger asking about wifi. That's it."
"He was flirting with you."
"So what if he was? It's not like I was flirting back."
"He was leaning in. Smiling. Asking you to coffee."
"You were listening?"
"I walked in right when he said it." Callum's jaw was tight. "And yes, I listened. Because some random guy was hitting on my wife."
"Your contract wife. There's a difference."
Something flashed in his eyes. "Is there?"
"Of course there is. We're not actually together, Callum. We're just..."
"Just what? Fucking? Living together? Sleeping in the same bed every night?" His voice was low but intense. "What exactly are we doing if we're not together?"
She didn't have an answer for that. Couldn't find words that made sense.
"You can't act like that," she said instead. "Getting territorial over some guy saying hello."
"Why not?"
"Because we're not..." She stopped. Couldn't say it.
"Not what?" He leaned closer. "Say it, Lennox. We're not what?"
"We're not real."
"Aren't we?" His hand moved from her shoulder to her face, thumb brushing her cheek. "Because this feels pretty fucking real to me."
Then he kissed her. Right there in the crowded coffee shop with people everywhere and Marcus probably watching from across the room. Kissed her deep and possessive and claiming in a way that made her forget why she was supposed to be mad.
She kissed him back because she couldn't help it. Because he was right, this did feel real even though it wasn't supposed to.
When he pulled back they were both breathing hard.
"Let's go home," he said.
"I just got here."
"I don't care. We're leaving."
He grabbed her laptop, shoved it in her bag, pulled her up from the chair. His hand found hers and he led her out of the coffee shop without looking back.
The walk to the penthouse was tense and silent. His hand stayed locked around hers, grip tight. She could feel the tension radiating off him, coiled and dangerous.
They made it through the lobby, into the elevator. The doors closed and suddenly he was on her, backing her against the wall, mouth on her neck.
"You're mine," he said against her skin. "I don't care what the contract says. You're mine."
"Callum..."
"Say it."
"This is crazy."
"Say it."
The elevator doors opened. He pulled her down the hall, into the penthouse, straight to his bedroom.
They didn't make it to the bed at first. He pushed her against the door the second it closed, hands already pulling at her clothes.
"Tell me you don't want this," he said, mouth on her jaw, her throat. "Tell me you want me to stop."
"I can't."
"Then stop pretending this doesn't mean anything."
His hands were everywhere, rough and demanding. She pulled at his shirt, buttons scattering. Neither of them cared.
They moved to the bed in a tangle of limbs and discarded clothing, both of them desperate and angry and trying to prove something neither would say out loud.
He was possessive in a way he'd never been before, hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks, mouth claiming every inch of her skin. She met him with equal intensity, nails dragging down his back, teeth on his shoulder.
It was rough and fast and overwhelming. Both of them trying to get closer even though there was no space left between them. She said his name and he responded with hers, over and over like a prayer or a curse.
When it was over they collapsed together, breathing hard and wrecked. His arms wrapped around her, holding her against him like he was afraid she'd disappear.
"You're mine," he said again, quieter this time. "I know we said this was just physical but I can't do that anymore. I can't pretend I don't care."
Her chest hurt. "Callum..."
"I'm not asking you to feel the same way. I'm just telling you the truth. I care about you. More than I should. More than is smart given the situation." He pulled back to look at her. "And I can't watch other men flirt with you and pretend I'm okay with it."
She should tell him they needed to stick to the rules. Should remind him about the contract and the expiration date and how this was always supposed to be temporary.
But she couldn't. Because he was right. This wasn't just physical anymore. Hadn't been for a while.
"I care about you too," she whispered.
His expression did something complicated. Relief and fear and want all mixed together. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He kissed her again, softer this time. Gentle in a way that made her want to cry because this was so wrong. She was lying to him. Investigating his company. Falling for him while hiding who she really was.
This couldn't end well. No matter what they felt, when the truth came out it would destroy them.
But right now, wrapped up in him with his heart beating against hers, she let herself pretend it could work. Let herself believe that maybe they could survive what was coming.
Even though she knew better.
Even though she knew they were running out of time.