Not Until You

by Corinne Michaels

  Callum, however, seems to have been his apprentice. I don’t know how we got so turned around at one point, but I’m pretty sure I went off the rails, which never happens.

  I try to circle back around. “Okay, but you want me to design the lofts here in the States.”

  “Yes.”

  “Right. So why would I need to come to London?”

  “Because that’s where I will be. There will be meetings I’d like you to attend.”

  Makes sense, but I don’t like this. “This is what they make video conferencing for. I’ll need to be here, watching over the entire project. When the general contractor goes away, bad things happen.”

  I’ve been down this road too many times. You head out of town, think everything is fine, and come back to chaos. I have a lot riding on this thing, so I’m not going to fuck it up.

  “Yes, but you’re not the GC.”

  “No, but I’m going to watch that man like a hawk,” I explain.

  Callum grins. “Hmm, maybe I should be the GC then.”

  “Cute.”

  “I’d rather think I am.”

  I roll my eyes. “I didn’t say you were cute. I said your little play there was cute.”

  He leans in. “It’s the same thing to me.”

  If he could just have a flaw somewhere, that would be awesome. Then I could pick at it like a scab until it bleeds and maybe becomes infected. Then I really wouldn’t want to touch it.

  “All right, let’s finish this so we can both sign on the dotted line. Is there anything else that you’d like to work into the contract?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “What would that be?”

  He smiles. “You.”

  “Me?”

  Callum doesn’t budge. His eyes stay on mine, showing me no mercy as I try to dig for a deeper meaning.

  “Yes, I want you to be available to me for other projects I have in mind. This isn’t the only building I’ll be putting up in the area. I’d like to have a designer on staff.”

  Okay, so not where my dirty mind went. I clasp my hands in front of me, giving myself a beat. I’m not sure how to respond, and I need to be smart and not reactive. He’s basically telling me that he’d like to work with me in the future, which bodes well for my company. Callum is now running his father’s company, which means connections as well. That said, I’m not willing to walk away from my company to work for his.

  “Can you clarify exactly what that looks like for you?”

  His eyes deepen and then turn back. “It means you’d work for me.”

  “That’s not going to work for me,” I say, giving him a slight shake of my head.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I own my company, Mr. Huxley.”

  “Callum,” he corrects.

  “Right. Well, I don’t want to work for anyone,” I tell him without room for negotiation. Then I hear my father’s voice in the back of my mind: There’s always room for negotiation. You only have to know what you’re negotiating.

  He nods. “It’s something I’d like to bring in-house.”

  I’d like to bring you in my house, too, but we don’t always get what we want.

  “I understand, and if that’s the case, then I’m not the right designer for you. I’m sorry, but that’s not an option.”

  I really hope I’m not fucking this up. This is a lot of money, and I just basically went all in on a shitty hand.

  Callum studies me, watching for something that he’ll never see. I have weaknesses, but I don’t show them. No matter how deep he looks, he’ll never see the timid girl who wanted her daddy to love her more than his job. He’ll never know the girl who broke down so bad she couldn’t get out of bed. Who lied to her friends because a man destroyed her. He will never know the depths of pain I felt when I realized I wasn’t as strong as I thought.

  I was Nicole Dupree, the woman who would never let a man be the cause of anguish ever again.

  I was the badass who broke hearts, not had hers broken.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Shit. I really need this job. I just can’t let him know that. Not because I need money, I’m fine there, but because this is the next level. This is where I go from decorating for housewives who want a fresher look to contracts that will have me set for life.

  I’m about to speak when the waiter comes over with the check. I go to grab for it, but Callum is quicker. “Never going to happen when we’re at dinner.”

  “This is a business meeting,” I clarify.

  Callum’s eyes meet mine, and he’s clearly irritated by that. “We’re eating because I asked to have the meeting over dinner, are we not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it’s dinner and a meeting that I initiated.”

  My defiant side wants to tell him it’s also a business meeting, but I choose not to. I have a feeling there’s a deeper fight.

  “Fine, still doesn’t change the fact that we’re at an impasse.”

  He rubs the scruff on his chin, looking off, and I shift in my seat. Everything he does is sexy. It really isn’t fair.

  “What about coming on as a contract base? You would be a sub-employee, but still remain as your own boss. However, you must fulfill your contract with Dovetail,” he says, causing me to jump a little.

  Damn it. That would work. I could sever the agreement if I build in enough clauses, but it could also give me the leverage I need going forward. I could work with Callum and still maintain Dupree Designs. Also, contracts can be broken if both parties have issues. It’s honestly the perfect option. However, if I agree immediately, he’ll have some power over me, which is definitely something I can’t allow.

  I have a feeling that Callum would feast on it.

  There’s something else I’d much rather him feast on.

  “I’ll think about it. I need to look over my schedule before I can commit.”

  He smiles as though I just played right into his hand. “I’ll expect an answer by tomorrow.”

  Seems I gave him something after all.

  “You should buy this dress,” my mother says as she holds up the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen. “It would look fantastic on you.”

  “The only way you’re getting me into that is if you’re burying me, even then, I’d haunt you for it.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

  For a woman who taught me most of what I know regarding decorating, she has the worst taste when it comes to clothes. It’s truly baffling. Her home is straight out of a magazine. The finest draperies, linens, stone, cabinets, and anything else she can spend my father’s fortune on, but clothes? It’s as if she’s clueless.

  Her wardrobe consists of pants suits and dresses that make the nuns look like they’re in bikinis.

  “Mom, please, try this on. I swear you’ll look great.” I lift a dress that is so small not even I would wear it.

  “Nicole! That is highly inappropriate.”

  Yes. Yes, it is. “That’s the point. You give me clothes I hate, and I’m showing you the same. Seriously, look at that thing you’re holding, would I ever put that on?”

  She sighs and puts it back onto the rack. “I do wish you’d dressed a little more demurely.”

  “Why? I’m young.”

  “Not that young.”

  Whatever. Arguing with her about this is pointless. Usually, I do it because it’s fun, but today, I feel out of sorts. Last night took a lot out of me. I barely slept after my dinner with Callum. I kept thinking about him. How he looked at me. How it was as if he could see through to my thoughts at times. It’s not like me to have my guard down enough to feel that way.

  I keep thinking about what it means. Why would this man, who I don’t know at all, make me this crazy? Why am I so attracted to him that it keeps me up all night? Not even my trusty bullet took the edge off. I still want to fuck his brains out.

  “Are you all right?” my mother asks with her hand on my arm.

/>   “Yeah, sorry. Just had a long night.”

  “Work, I hope.”

  She stopped asking if it was a man after the time I told her it was actually two men.

  That was an epic conversation.

  I nod. Callum is technically work. “I have a big project on the horizon. One that even Dad might be impressed with. He’s supposed to have the contract drawn up based on our negotiations last night.”

  Her eyes have a hint of sadness layered in, and I don’t have to ask why . . . I said dad. This is why love sucks. I may enjoy driving my mother batshit crazy, but seeing her still so hurt over a man who doesn’t think twice about her—is sad. It’s depressing that something we want to bring us some sort of wholeness ends up tearing us apart. That isn’t what love is meant to do, yet that’s what always seems to be the end result.

  She recovers and smiles. “That’s great about the project.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Who is the company?”

  “Dovetail,” I say, knowing she’ll know who that is.

  “Wow, Nicole. That’s impressive. I thought I read something about Martin Dovetail passing away.”

  “He did. I’m working with his son. Actually, you’ve met him.”

  “I have?”

  I nod. “Yes. Callum was at the club the other night, do you remember?”

  “The British gentleman?”

  I would have gone with the hot-as-fuck British guy with a jawline I want to lick and eyes I want to fall into, but sure, British gentleman works.

  My mother laughs softly. “Interesting.”

  “What is?” I say with a defensive tone.

  “Oh, nothing. Just that you went all glassy-eyed and smiley.”

  I did not. “You need to see the eye doctor.”

  Her lips turn into a full smirk. “Okay. If you say so.”

  “We are not talking about this.”

  “About the fact that you like someone?”

  Seriously? How did she jump to that conclusion? Never mind that she’s right. I’ll eat glass before I admit that.

  “I don’t like him.”

  “Okay.”

  “Seriously, Mom. I don’t.”

  “If you say so . . .”

  I groan. “Remember, I’m an only child and you’re getting older. Who do you think is going to be shopping for your nursing home?”

  She snorts. “Please, I’ll escape daily to live with you. Come on, let’s go grab lunch. We can argue about my living arrangements over a glass of wine.”

  Now we’re talking. I link my arm in my mother’s, and we walk out into the courtyard of the shopping center. There are a few great swanky restaurants that we frequent often in this area, but I steer her toward our favorite little pizza place.

  Mom and I chat about an idea she has about doing some redesigning to her living room, which I helped her design a little over a year ago. I don’t know if it’s boredom or what, but it’s really confusing how she continues to redo her home.

  The waiter brings over the food, and she digs in while I look around. I love coming here. Not because it’s a place only locals go but because as pretentious as my mother is sometimes, she’ll eat pizza like a champ.

  “It’s been too long since we’ve been here,” she says as she takes a bite.

  “You know, I’ll never get used to seeing you when we come here.”

  “Why?” she asks with her brow raised.

  “Because you’re so . . . proper all the damn time. But stick a slice of pizza in front of you, and suddenly, you’re normal.”

  She puts her slice down and pats her lips. “No matter how many years it’s been since I’ve lived in New York, that part of me will never disappear. Had things worked out different for me, you would’ve been raised there.”

  Ahh, the story of my father stealing her life. Here it comes. “I know, Mom.”

  “No, Nicole, you don’t. New York is something that lives inside you. I know you think it’s crazy, but that city breathes life. It’s full of everything. You experience so much in one minute that it can take you a lifetime to ever truly accept it.”

  “I worry about you.”

  She shakes her head with her eyes closed. “One day, you’ll find something that is too much and not enough all at once.”

  My heart slams against my chest. The past and present do a dance in my heart as I think about Andy and Callum. Andy made me feel everything at once. It was like being in that carnival ride where it spun so fast you were smooshed against the side. I never felt centered. Callum does a little of the same, but as of now, I don’t feel like he’s going to leave me dizzy. The fact that I had even a glimpse of that is why I ran. I always want to be on steady ground.

  “It’s . . .” I start, but something catches my eye.

  A man in a dark suit enters the pizzeria. My body knows who it is before my head does.

  “Nicole?” Callum’s accent practically croons my name.

  “Callum.” I attempt to smile but probably fail. I can’t feel my face. “I thought you were in London?”

  “I’m clearly not.” He smiles and then looks at my mother. “Mrs. Dupree.”

  “Hello, Callum. It’s lovely to see you again.” She stands to greet him.

  “You too.” He kisses her cheek.

  “Please, have a seat.” The traitor formerly known as Mom invites him to join us.

  “He can’t,” I say quickly. “I’m sure Callum has somewhere else he needs to be.”

  “Actually, I don’t. I’m staying in the States another few days. I extended my trip to handle some additional things.”

  Of course he did. “Oh. That’s wonderful,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Yes, I was going to call you today to discuss some ideas about the project.”

  “Oh?” Mom cuts in. “That’s right. Nicole said you guys were working together.”

  That is not what I said. “We haven’t signed anything yet,” I correct her.

  There’s a little issue on whether or not I’m going to work for him—which I’m not. The contractor thing is appealing, but until that gets completely worked out, there’s no job as far as I’m concerned.

  “Yes,” Callum agrees. “Not yet, but I have a feeling we’ll come to an agreement.”

  Smug bastard.

  “You hope.”

  He laughs. “Yes, I do hope. You’re very talented, and it would be a shame not to be able to come to some sort of resolution, don’t you think?”

  I go to open my mouth with a smart-ass remark and then remember that’s probably not the best idea. We don’t have anything in writing, after all. “Yes, it really would.”

  Mother sniggers and then clears her throat. “You know, I just remembered that I have to meet my friend in an hour.”

  She is so full of shit.

  “You said you wanted to spend the day together. You never once mentioned a friend.”

  She attempts a forlorn smile but sucks at it. This is why she didn’t get very far in acting. “I know, but it slipped my mind. You know how it is when you get older . . .” My mother touches her chest as though she’s so sad about it.

  “Well, we can take the pizza to go,” I offer.

  “No, no. Don’t do that on my account, sweetheart.” Her hand touches mine.

  “It’s fine.”

  My mother turns to Callum. “Do you mind spending the day with her, Callum? We just got our food, and as you can see, Nicole hasn’t eaten a thing.”

  Oh. My. God. She didn’t. “Mother!”

  “I don’t mind at all.” Callum grins at me.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetie.” She comes over and kisses my temple. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

  “Oh, you so will,” I warn.

  And just like that, my matchmaking mother has gotten her damn way. And so has Callum.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nicole

  “Well, this is an interesting turn of events,” Callum chuckles.


  “Is it now?”

  “What does that mean?”

  Please, I’m not stupid. I know exactly what the hell is going on. He’s clearly obsessed with me. “You just happened to come to this pizza place in Tampa? A place you know nothing about?”

  “You think I’m following you?”

  “Yes, I think you’re following me,” I say, mocking his accent.

  “That’s bloody rich.” He laughs.

  “Right. It’s a little scary.”

  Callum looks at me with humor in his eyes. “It is because, clearly, you’re following me.”

  “Umm, I was here first.”

  “Maybe today, but I assure you, not every other day that I’ve frequented this restaurant.”

  I purse my lips and stare at him. What the hell? He’s not following me? “This is just a coincidence?”

  He shrugs. “Call it what you want, but I don’t need to chase you. You wear your attraction to me very openly.”

  Please, he thinks he knows me?

  Yeah, I don’t think so, buddy. I will never admit defeat.

  “Attraction?”

  “Yes. You want me. Let’s not pretend. I don’t know many women who rub a man’s cock if she’s not interested. Which you are.”

  “Not likely.”

  Maybe he has some sort of mind reading ability? Or maybe I suck at hiding that I undress him constantly? Either way, denial is not just a river in Egypt, it’s here, too, and I’m floating down it.

  “So, just now, you don’t wish that you’d gone back to my place that night?”

  “Nope.”

  Lie.

  “You don’t wish you knew exactly how it felt to have spent the night with me?”

  I squeeze my legs together and level him with a stare. “No.”

  “If you say so . . .” Callum trails off.

  “Please, I’m not the one following you around.”

  He shakes his head, leans in, and drops his voice. “I spent all my holidays from school in Florida since I was three years old. I know this place because my father owned the businesses on this street. I’ve been eating here since I was a just a tot.”

  Now I feel like a total asshole. “Well, okay then. That makes sense, I guess.”

  He smirks while sitting back in his chair. An older gentleman comes around the counter, with his arms open and eyes warm. Callum does the same and they both embrace while the other man claps Callum on the back. “It’s been too long, son. Too long since you’ve come to see your Uncle Gio.”