Strictly Business: Callie (Gold Club Staffing #1)

by Cheri Wood

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to.” He gets up, grabbing his wallet from his desk drawer. “Come on, let’s go.”

  My mouth opens and shuts without a sound coming from it. Nick, however, is already confidently striding out of the room, expecting me to follow. After a moment’s pause, I do.

  GCS

  “Should I be twirling?” I ask as I walk out of the dressing room wearing one of the evening gowns the saleswoman picked out for me.

  Nick is lounging in a plush leather armchair with one ankle resting on his knee and a copy of Forbes in his hands. He looks up and I’m once again struck by how odd it feels to be dress shopping with a man. Tom never went shopping with me; he was much too busy to waste billable hours like that.

  Nick raises his eyebrows at me. “You don’t actually need my input, do you?”

  “Well, I assumed, since you insisted on coming along, you want to make sure I pick out the right kind of dress.”

  “I trust your judgment. But, by all means, if you feel the urge to twirl, go right ahead.”

  Rolling my eyes, I make a slow turn in front of him, showing off the high side slit and the low-cut back that is literally being held together by strings. “Well?” I ask as I’ve completed the 360. Nick is looking a little tense and I see him swallow before answering.

  “No. Next.”

  A little hurt, I return to the cubicle to try on another, more conservative, dress. It’s a formfitting purple shift, but it has a modest sweetheart neckline, full back coverage and a hemline that cuts off just below the knees.

  “Put it in the Maybe pile,” Nick says when I come back out, and I try on a third dress, a cobalt blue chiffon one with a boat neckline and flared skirt. I catch his gaze lingering on my legs as he considers my wardrobe choice.

  “Well?” I demand when he fails to comment.

  He shakes out his magazine and refocuses on the page in front of him. “It’ll do.”

  “Wow, how encouraging,” I say drily and roll my eyes as I head back in.

  When I reemerge from the dressing room with my dress folded over my arm, Nick is gone from his seat. Instead, I find him over by the cashier’s desk, flirting with the pretty brunette attendant. As she rings up the dress, I notice she also adds two pairs of control top pantyhose to the bag, and I start to object when I remember Nick is standing right there and I’d rather not discuss underwear choices with him listening in. He hands over the company credit card and signs his name on the slip, then heads out of the store. I seize the opportunity to talk to the cashier.

  “Listen, I really don’t need the-“

  “They’re high-gloss, top of the line, and they’ll give you a great silhouette,” the cashier launches into a classic sales pitch.

  “I’m sure, but-“

  “Mr. Astor insisted,” she says easily and I feel my jaw drop. What on earth? Is this his way of saying I look dumply or something? Oh god, did he see cellulites when I turned around?

  “Uh… okay. Thank you,” I say and take the bag, determined to stock up on whatever body lotions or anti-ageing creams I can get my hands on.

  GCS

  The refreshment table set up after the New Faces Award sit-down dinner portion of the evening is over is a popular place, as demonstrated by the number of people hovering around it. When someone brushes up against me, I expect it’s just because it’s crowded. Then I hear a voice in my ear that makes my skin crawl.

  “Mrs. Norton, fancy bumping into you here.” It’s Rob. “I hear you got yourself another job. Tell me, does it pay well, screwing Nick Astor on a daily basis?”

  “Leave me alone, Rob,” I ground out between clenched teeth.

  “I wonder what poor Tom would say if he knew what his wife does for a living,” he carries on, picking up a pig in a blanket from the table. I feel a chill run through me at his poorly veiled threat. Then I remind myself he has as much to lose as I do. “Where is Tom, by the way? I haven’t seen him.”

  “He’s out of town,” I reply curtly. I have no idea if that’s true, but Rob doesn’t get to know that we’re separated.

  “Well, isn’t that convenient? It just so happens I have a room here. How ‘bout you come upstairs with me and convince me that Tom is better off not knowing that his wife screws for money?”

  “How ‘bout you walk away right now?” I snarl at him over my shoulder.

  “You don’t talk to me like that, whore,” he hisses and grips my arm so hard it’s bound to bruise.

  “Let. Me. Go.”

  “You heard the lady,” Nick’s voice suddenly sounds right next to me. As relieved as I am, I’m also mortified. How much did he hear?

  “You obviously can’t tell a lady from a tramp,” Rob practically spits as he lets me go. “My daughter is lucky to be rid of you.”

  “I suggest you leave right now,” Nick says, his voice steely. “Or I’ll have Security escort you.”

  “Hope she gives you your money’s worth,” Rob says as he stalks off, earning himself and us a couple of curious looks. Nick makes a move to follow, but I grab his arm.

  “Leave it. He’s just drunk.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “Maybe not, but he’s not worth your time.” When Nick turns his angry stare at Rob’s back towards me instead, it softens. “Thank you,” I tell him, squeezing his arm lightly before letting go. I’m not only thanking him for not causing a further scene with Rob, but for the rescue, as well.

  “Are you all right?” he asks, searching my face.

  “Fine. I just… really don’t like that guy.”

  “Yeah… That makes two of us.”

  “So… your speech was a hit. As always,” I smile, changing the topic. It was a great speech, especially since it was an impromptu one, the kind where a whole dining room is chanting speech-speech-speech. I guess that comes with the territory of being a millionaire philanthropist.

  “Thanks. I think I’ve had enough mingling for one night, though. Do you want me to drive you back to the office?”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Well, I’m not leaving you here alone, not when Robert Hurst might still be hanging around. Just let me know when you’re ready to go. I’ll be at the hotel bar.”

  “I’m ready now.”

  “All right. Let’s go then.”

  He gently ushers me towards the exit and I can’t help but wonder if the people in attendance think that we’re going home together, or back to his hotel room for a torrid affair. I straighten my spine and hold my head high. Let them think what they want. If Nick doesn’t care, then why should I?

  GCS

  “Do you want me to come up with you?” Nick asks as we pull into the parking garage.

  “How much of my conversation with Rob did you hear?” I blurt.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What did you hear him say to me?”

  “I heard him call you a despicable name just before I reached you. Why do you ask?”

  “He thinks I’m sleeping with you. That you pay me to.” I look at my hands. “Is that what you’re expecting from me?”

  “No. God, no, Callie,” he says emphatically, turning towards me in his seat. “I hired you as my assistant because I thought you would be a good fit, and you’ve been great. I don’t expect anything more from you than what you’re doing for me now. Your job will never depend on what happens between us.”

  I nod and bite my lip, trying to keep myself from crying. Then I feel his hand on my cheek, gently turning my head back to him. “You are a beautiful, strong, amazing woman. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

  “Nick…”

  “I’ll see you on Monday, all right? Get some sleep.” He puts his hand back on the steering wheel and I’m grateful for the easy out. The truth is, it would have been all too easy to let him come upstairs and comfort me, and I’m not sure I would have been able to resist him.

  GCS

  Early Mond
ay morning, I get a call on my work phone.

  “Nova Corporation, Callie Norton speaking.”

  “So you haven’t changed your name yet. That’s reassuring.”

  “Tom?” Why isn’t he calling me on my private cell phone? Maybe he didn’t expect me to answer.

  “Yeah. Your husband, remember?”

  “Why are you so angry?”

  “Why? I’ll tell you why. I’m angry because I have to see my wife on Nick Astor’s arm in the paper! Not to mention it’s all over the Internet!”

  “What is?”

  “You and him!”

  “I went with Nick to a fundraising dinner to represent the company. It’s not like I went on a date with him.”

  “Oh, yeah? The photos of the two of you leaving together tell a different story.”

  “What are you talking about? Yes, we left together, because we came together. He just dropped me off.”

  “Dropped you off where, Callie? Where are you staying these days? Has he got you put up in his little love nest?”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Funny, that’s what my colleagues and clients all think of me now. I’m a freaking laughing stock, Callie!”

  “That’s what it all comes down to, isn’t it? Your reputation. I feel sorry for you, Tom, I really do. It must be tough living your whole life constantly worrying about what other people think.”

  “Everything all right in here?” Nick pokes his head through my door and I realize I’ve been using my loud voice.

  “I’ve gotta go,” I say to Tom, hanging up before he can yell at me some more. “Sorry,” I say to Nick, who walks into my office.

  “I take it that was your husband on the phone?”

  “How’d you guess?” I sigh, rubbing my temples to relieve the pressure building there.

  “I may have overheard a snippet of your conversation,” he shrugs and leans against my desk. “Are you okay?”

  “Apparently there are pictures of us floating around. Tom was concerned.” Or royally pissed.

  “From the charity dinner?”

  “Yeah. They’re making it out as if we went home together.”

  “Ah. Well, if need be, Tom can call up my concierge to confirm I came home alone.”

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. He can either choose to trust me when I say nothing’s going on, or he can file for divorce.”

  “You sound like you’ve already made up your mind,” he frowns.

  “I haven’t. I’m waiting for him to realize that I’m not the only one to blame for our marriage falling apart.”

  “How long will you wait?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m not qualified to offer any sort of advice on the subject, but if you want to vent, I’m here.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry I brought this into work. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  “That’s fine. But if you get the chance, could you take a look at the document I sent you?” he taps my computer screen. “I need a second opinion.”

  “Sure. What is it?” I ask as I pull up my inbox and click on the attachment.

  “It’s my speech for the Sanderson Gala next Friday. I don’t know if it has the right tone.”

  “What tone are they looking for?”

  “Well, it’s supposed to be inspirational – inspiring the attendees to crack open their checkbooks for a good cause – but not come off as begging for charity contributions.”

  “What’s the charity?”

  “Inner-city kids entrepreneur program – helping teens with low socio-economic backgrounds to gain the tools to operate their own legitimate businesses.”

  “That’s a great cause,” I say, impressed.

  “I hope so. I’m the founder.”

  “You? How come I’ve never heard about it?”

  “I don’t like using my name unless it’s absolutely necessary for the success of the project. I believe it’s a good cause, no matter who gets the credit for it.”

  I nod, holding back the gushing about what an amazing man he is. I really do admire Nick, but I’m afraid that if I tell him that, it will change things between us. It’s bad enough that I asked him that ridiculous question about expecting sexual favors.

  “Okay, I’ll look it over.”

  “Great. Thanks,” he says and heads for the door. He pauses in the doorway. “Hey. Are you busy Friday night?”

  GCS

  As cameras flash all around us, I can’t help but think how furious Tom will be once the photos hit the papers. Philanthropist Nicholai Astor with his ‘assistant’, they will say, lewdly speculating about our real relationship.

  My floor-length black gown sparkles like the chandeliers in the grand ballroom, and like the champagne on the waiters’ trays. I feel utterly glamorous. My hair is down, draped in soft curls much like an old Hollywood starlet, and the man on my arm looks like he’s stepped right out of a magazine or a film noir.

  Nick has expressed his distaste for the extravagance surrounding these charity events, but he still pulls off the look. I catch myself ogling him as he gives his speech on stage and an elderly woman with more diamonds on her than in a jeweler’s safe chuckles next to me.

  “Oh, to be young and in love,” she coos and I look up to see her gray eyes fixed on me. I give her a puzzled look and she pats my hand. “There’s no hiding it, dear.”

  I look over at the stage again where Nick is finishing up his speech, and I feel panic well up inside me. No. No, no, no. I cannot be falling for Nicholai Astor while I’m separated from my husband and having a complicated relationship with Mr. Hush. It’s humanly impossible. Or it should be.

  “Excuse me,” I mumble to the old lady and slip out of the room as the applause commence. I find my way to the ladies room and sit down on the couch to collect myself. It takes several minutes of focused breathing to prepare myself to go back out there and act like there’s nothing wrong.

  “Are you okay?” Nick is waiting for me outside the ladies room.

  “Fine. I just really had to go.” I pull a face.

  “Do you want to get out of here?”

  “What? No. What?” So much for my acting skills…

  “You look pale. I thought you might want to go home and get some rest.”

  Home. Home is where his office is… I need to find another place, stat.

  “Really, I’m fine. Besides, don’t you have to schmooze?”

  “I’m all schmoozed out. Come on, I’m getting you out of here,” he says and puts his arm around my waist, guiding me towards the coat room. There are more camera flashes as we wait for his car, as I get into the passenger seat, and as we drive off. ‘Philanthropist and ‘assistant’ leaving charity gala early’, the gossip sites will say. We’re lucky they’re not following us.

  GCS

  “Tea?” Nick asks as we enter the office. He didn’t ask if I wanted him to come up, and I didn’t say I didn’t want him to. It’s his office, after all.

  “Sure. I’ve got some chamomile,” I let him know as I head for the bedroom I’ve called my own for the past how-many-weeks. I quickly strip out of my gala dress and pull on a pair of sweat pants and a tank top. A pair of fuzzy socks and a long cardigan complete the look. I head for the living room, where I can hear the TV going.

  Nick is on the couch, two steaming cups of tea in front of him. I take the seat beside him and pick up the cup to warm my hands. I feel oddly chilly. There’s a comedy on, but Nick isn’t watching it. Instead, he’s watching me.

  “What’s going on, Callie?”

  “What do you mean?” I say, holding the cup tightly.

  “Did someone say something to you? Make you feel uncomfortable?”

  I think about the old rich lady. Yes, she made me feel uncomfortable, but not for the reason Nick probably thinks.

  “Nope. I’m just tired.”

  “Have you talked to Tom since last week?”

  “No.”

&nbs
p; “So he still hasn’t come to his senses?”

  “I guess not.”

  “You deserve better.”

  I look away from him, focusing on putting my cup of tea down on the table. I can’t do this. I can’t spill my secrets and pour my heart out. I can’t be honest with him. He deserves better than that.

  “Callie.” His voice is a pained whisper, almost a plea, and I turn to look at him. I feel like crying when I see the intent in his eyes. He’s waiting for me to accept it. But I can’t.

  Nevertheless, I sit motionless as his hand lifts to my cheek, resting there as his thumb sweeps across the edge of my mouth. It’s as if the rest of the world falls away. The laugh track on the TV comedy is a distant hum, but I can hear my heartbeat coming in loud and clear and I feel myself taking shallow, quick breaths as the tip of his thumb finds moist warmth on the inside of my bottom lip. He’s going to kiss me, and I can’t decide how to react. When he leans in and my lips part under his, I know what I have to do.

  “Nick, no. I can’t. I’m sorry,” I push him away with every last bit of willpower, forcing myself to turn away from him.

  “Why?” he demands, breathing as if he’s trying very hard to keep himself in check.

  “I’m still married.” It’s instinctive, but it’s an excuse and it seems like we both know it.

  “And why’s that again?” he asks.

  “Nick, please. I won’t be a cheater.” Liar.

  Nick practically scoffs, starting to say something but stopping himself. Finally, he puts his hands up and takes a few steps back before turning away to leave. I slump down on the couch, burying my face in my hands.

  XI

  I have a Saturday meeting with Mr. Hush, and despite everything happening at the office – or maybe because of it - I need to keep it. When I enter conference room B, the old blindfold is laid out on the bed and I sigh. I thought we’d somehow grown closer these past few months, but this feels like a huge step back. Nevertheless, he’s still a client and his rules apply, so I dutifully put the blindfold on and lay down on the bed.