Any Means Necessary
: Chapter 6

I pause in the open doorway of Callum’s office, my knuckles knocking on the door softly as I announce my presence. “Knock, knock.”

“Come on in, Doc.” Callum gestures to me from his place behind the desk. Roscoe sits on the sofa along the wall to the left, silently observing.

Walking in, I place the signed contract in the center of the desk. “I signed it.”

His eyes move from the stack of papers to gaze at me, read me. He seems surprised, but I can’t be sure if it’s because I actually signed the contract or the fact that I took so long to make a decision. Maybe both.

Picking the contract off the desk, Callum flips through each page to double-check that nothing’s missing. I don’t blame him, I triple-checked every signature line myself before walking in here.

“You signed it,” he confirms. “I’ll make you a copy.”

“Now what? When do I start, today?” I ask, glancing over at Roscoe. He’s so hard to read. If I was a less confident woman, I’d probably assume he can’t stand me. Between him and Callum, they’re gonna give my self-esteem a workout. Unreadable stares like theirs can give a woman a complex.

“Tomorrow we can go over the parameters of the job, and figure out scheduling,” Callum responds thoughtfully, standing to place the contract into the large safe set into the wall behind his desk. “I don’t expect to need you today, and I have meetings that can’t be rescheduled.”

“Ok.” Sounds like I get the day off, which is fine by me. “Perfect, I was hoping to soak up some sun and use the pool today. The weather is beautiful.”

Callum’s eyes move down my body, most likely taking in how pale I am. He probably thinks I just need a few hours in the sun to get some color, most people do. But my skin is always this fair, the only color I’ll be getting from the sun is bright red—not that it’ll stop me. I can’t wait to load up on SPF and roast like a sun-dried tomato.

“Go ahead, Dewdrop.” With that, he’s dismissing me. Hopping up from the chair, I can feel two sets of eyes on me as I leave the room. Leaving them behind, and any worry about work or the new life I just signed up for, I head to my room. I’m so ready to lounge and relax by the pool.

Looking in the full-length mirror, I pose to show myself the best angle in this swimsuit. The light pink structured top is the best I think I’ve ever found for my body type. With panels of mesh and a full underwire, it looks more like lingerie than swimwear. That’s what I need for my boobs—full support. My girls need to be hoisted up and strapped in. Though, like almost everything else with structured cups, my boobs are just a bit too big to be considered ‘the perfect fit.’

The periwinkle bottoms are high-waisted, with enough coverage for my stomach and thigh brows. But they’re also high cut on the sides, sitting high on my hips and creating a cheeky fit on my ass—and I’ve got a decently sized ass. My boobs look fantastic, large and propped up in this top. The bottoms make my defined waist look snatched, my thighs look thick, my legs look long, and my ass voluptuous. The pastel colors perfectly complement the rosy hue of my fair skin and long blonde hair.

I look hot.

Giving my best angles and face, I snap a few pics in the mirror with my cellphone. These might not end up being posted anywhere on social media, but I want them for myself either way. It’s important for me to capture this moment when I’m feeling sexy. An assignment from my therapist, Julie, to destigmatize embracing anything that brings me joy. I’ll decide later what I want to do with them.

Damn, I look good.

Until I turn and catch the reflection of my side profile. Then I see how my soft stomach slightly overhangs a fupa, and the back of my thick thighs are decorated in cellulite and the faint silver silhouettes of stretch marks. I have more curves than I know what to do with; cellulite, stretch marks, and all. But to hell if I’m not going to wear what I want to wear.

Stay straight on, Lexie. How you look from the side is something to think about another day. You look good from any angle.

The terrace of the penthouse probably costs a fortune on its own; with manicured landscaping, a large rectangular infinity pool and jacuzzi, and an outdoor dining area complete with a full bar, grill, and fire pit. Stepping into the ridiculously large pool, the water is heated to perfection.

Nothing beats swimming in a private pool. I could get used to this.

Soaking up the sunshine beneath the heated water, the time passes quickly as I swim laps, float, and breathe. When my fingers have turned into little prunes I know it’s time to get out. I make a mental note to buy a house with a pool someday soon, one with lots of privacy so I can lounge in my bikini, or even topless, without stray eyes.

Slowly walking up the steps out of the pool, water runs off my body. The sun is warm, but the wind sends a shiver through me as I reach for my towel. Dripping a trail of pool water across the apartment isn’t my favorite idea, so I do my best to dry my body. Wrapping the towel around me, I glance through the windows leading into the living room and pause. A group of four important-looking men in suits stand just inside the glass door with Enzo, deep in conversation. And judging by their expressions, the topic of discussion is a very serious one.

As comfortable as I am lounging by a private pool in a bikini, I have no desire to walk through a heated business meeting full of complete strangers, half naked and dripping wet. I’m not conceited enough to think I’d pull too much focus otherwise, but in this situation, every set of male eyes would be on me.

Yeah, no thanks.

Instead, I pad over to the door on the opposite side of the terrace—the one that leads into the primary suite. I breathe a sigh of relief when the door’s unlocked and opens easily. Slipping inside, I close the door softly behind me.

Just like the rest of the penthouse, Callum’s bedroom is impressive. The wall of floor-to-ceiling windows extending up two stories floods the room with natural light. Modern furniture and fixtures decorate the space in darker neutral colors. A sitting area is on my left facing a chic black fireplace, a beige sofa, and cognac leather sitting chairs paired with a coffee table made of lighter natural wood. The color palette matches the rest of the apartment and I can’t help wondering if it was selected by Callum or some interior designer—black, natural light woods, beige, and cognac leather accents.

His bed is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen in my life, it must be a California king. It sits on my right against the wall opposite the door that leads into the hallway, night stands with lamps on both sides. The black bedding covering the giant mattress on the sturdy wood bedframe looks oddly inviting and comfortable. The two doors on the far back wall open into a spacious walk-in closet and ensuite bathroom. The other door must lead to the bathroom.

The air in here feels expensive.

I stop at the foot of the bed, my eyes scanning over the details of the room. I’m the first to admit that I’m nosey—not nosey enough to actually go around digging through drawers or poking around bookshelves—but definitely enough to take a good look when given the opportunity.

The room is beautifully decorated, each item adding to the masculine luxury of the space. But it’s a little impersonal. From what I know about Callum, I wasn’t expecting to replace shelves of little league trophies from when he was a kid. But there’s nothing sentimental I can see at all, no personality. Or maybe this whole room is Callum’s personality—masculine, expensive, clean, and devoid of emotion. The entire space is… controlled.

“Do you need something?” The deep voice makes me jump, ripping me out of my observations and forcing my head to whip around. Callum’s large form fills the doorway that leads into the spacious primary bathroom, a black suit coat in his hands to match the black pants he’s already wearing. The cuffs of his black dress shirt are buttoned at his wrists, his tattoos completely hidden like they don’t exist at all.

“Oh, you’re in here.” Just like the first time we met, I’m a deer in headlights. But this time, my recovery is much faster. The towel shifts around me as I sweep my wet hair over one shoulder to minimize the amount of water dripping on the nice wood floors.

“That shouldn’t be such a big surprise since this is my bedroom,” he counters, sliding one of his arms into the suit coat, then the other. Shrugging the coat onto his shoulders, he straightens the lapels until his businessman camouflage is firmly in place.

“Right,” I concede easily. “I’m not trying to invade your privacy, I just saw all the men in suits.”

“So you snuck in here thinking no one would notice?” His brows raise in question, and I’m suddenly starting to rethink my reasoning. It made sense in the moment.

“Sorry, there were too many people out in the living room and I didn’t want to be seen, so I came in through the balcony,” I say, letting the towel fall away from my body to start drying my hair.

“And you thought you’d be safer in here with me?” His tone taunts the very idea of it. I didn’t realize he was in here, but I don’t think that would’ve changed my mind to walk through the crowd of strangers. At least with Callum, I know where I stand.

“Well, yeah. There are just too many male eyes out there. And, you’re not gonna look, so,” I shrug, tilting my head to scrunch some of the pool water out of my hair with the towel.

“I’m not looking?” My hands halt at his question, eyes snapping to his.

“Are you?” I ask, blinking at him.

“I am.” His eyes pierce through me, proving a point. His gaze settles over my skin like static electricity.

“Wait, what?” I’m gaping at him now, my jaw might as well be on the damn floor.

Callum’s eyes run over me from head to toe slowly, deliberately. His heated gaze takes in every inch of me in my bikini, and I can’t help but wonder how the same eyes that have been watching me from the moment we met can suddenly make me feel so hot and desired.

“I have, I am, and I will.” He takes three deliberate steps toward me, punctuating each phrase. My eyes widen up at him, not missing how his focus catches on where my breasts practically spill from my bikini top.

“I’m confused, you never—” He regards me like I’m a character in a children’s tv show—something barely tolerable, maybe a potential source of mild entertainment, but altogether too bright and shiny to be taken seriously.

Or at least I thought he did.

Now he’s looking at me like a man starved, and I’m a meal he wants to devour.

A wave of heat washes through me, my heart damn near doing backflips.

“Sometimes it’s better to observe quietly. Don’t mistake my silence for disinterest.” There’s no missing his interest in me now. “But now that you know, there’s no reason to keep it quiet anymore. Is there, Dewdrop?”

“I—” The man has made my brain glitch, and I’m at a loss for what to say. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

“Wanting to fuck you has nothing to do with whether or not I like you.”

“True.” Heat pools between my legs. “You want to fuck me?”

“I want to bury myself in those gorgeous tits of yours while I pound into your pussy until I’m balls deep and you’re screaming my name.” He’s inching closer. “Yes, I want to fuck you.”

Suddenly there’s no air in the room. His dirty words have stolen the breath right out of my lungs and doused me in flammable lust.

The man is so unbelievably hot. Callum Russo could eat me alive and I’d offer him seconds. But he’s officially my employer now—not to mention he’s only supposed to be in town for a few more days. So instead of responding how my throbbing pussy is begging me to, I say “Sex would probably complicate things.”

The hunger in his eyes remains, but he doesn’t make any attempt to argue with me.

“Probably.”

So that settles it, there will be no sex with my extremely attractive, giant, bearded employer who’s covered in tattoos and looks like he could shatter me into a million pieces.

It’s the right decision, we both know it. But that doesn’t stop the regret from clawing at me while I stand here staring at the man with promises of complete devastation in his hazel eyes.

“I should go shower before the chlorine turns my hair green.” Changing the subject, I wrap the large towel around my body. It’s cold now, my lack of body heat allowing the dampness to cool from the air conditioning. Callum doesn’t miss the goose bumps that raise across my skin, even when he tilts his head towards his bathroom.

“Use mine,” he says, surprising me. “I’m leaving, and I’ll be taking the male eyes in the living room with me. There’s a robe on the hook.”

“I’ll think about it.” We both know I’m about to go poking around his bathroom. “Have fun at your meeting.” The look he flashes me says he noticed my choice of words. I give him a bright smile in return.

The towel slips around me slightly when I reach up to tuck a strand of wet hair behind my ear, allowing Callum’s diligent eyes to catch another glimpse of my chest. I’m not in a hurry to pull it back up and ruin his view.

“We’ll talk tomorrow morning,” he says, running a hand over his perfect beard—he has some seriously good hair genes. “Meet me in my office at eight.”

I nod in acknowledgment. “I’ll be there.”

Callum stands there for a beat, gazing at me like usual. Only, now that I know how he feels when he looks at me, it’s not like usual. It’s hot and unnerving at the same time.

When he turns to stride out of the room, I’m left trying to make sense of what just happened between us. There’s so much to process, especially from the last few days. My mind is still scrambling when I walk into Callum’s bathroom.

It matches his bedroom; large, modern, and luxurious. And freakishly neat. There’s no shortage of hygiene products between his facewash, beard oil, and masculine soap—which is no surprise. Callum is a very well-groomed man. Each item is lined up perfectly in place, keeping the counters clean and organized. The entire room is an odd combination of lived-in and pristine. It looks like a well-staged photo from a luxury interior design magazine.

To give some semblance of privacy, I don’t rifle through his cabinets. Turning on the rain shower, I wrestle myself out of the damp swimsuit. When I step under the steaming water and look out the floor-to-ceiling window with the spectacular cityscape view, I’m sure this is going to be the best shower of my life.