“I’ll…get dressed,” I say. But before I can hop off the chair he stops me.
“I think…we should move in together.”
Chapter 19
Amanda
“Move in together?”
I echo Callum's words because I’m not sure I heard him right. One minute I am eating a baked frittata, which by the way is straight up orgasmic (I mean let’s be honest…everything involving this man is orgasmic) and the next, ready to walk of shame out of here and the next, he is asking me to pack up and live with him. Here. In his penthouse. Like a zillionaire.
“I know it seems hasty, but I think we are in a jam here.”
“Are you worried people are talking too much?” I ask, gripping my coffee mug in my palms half because it feels good and half because I need something to hang onto. The room is suddenly spinning, and I am wondering if maybe I am still asleep and everything that just happened was a dream. A sexy, grinding, throbbing wet as Niagara Falls dream.
“I’m worried they aren’t talking enough,” he says, and I am lost. My face must say it because Callum rounds the counter to sit on the stool next to me. Facing me. In fact, our knees are touching…again. Bad things always happen when our knees touch…
Callum goes on. “Here’s the thing, Amanda. Everything I do is speculated. Not just because I work at the top of the music industry cranking the gears on some of the biggest tours in the world. But also, because my father, Hiram Hardin, is one of the most well-known faces in the record company business. And as his son, that limelight is shifting. Especially with the decline of his health. Unfortunately, being a twin complicates the transition of that. And Avery…is not exactly CEO material.”
That, I figured out on my own. I haven’t been with the company for even a month, and I can already see it. Avery is reckless, careless, and from what I’ve noticed, self-centered and an attention hog. Callum, on the other hand, is calculated, precise, articulate and actually cares about the music, not just the face of the brand.
“I know you’re the same age and you’re both his sons, but I don’t see why your father doesn’t just do the obvious and hand it to you. I mean Avery is a bit of a loose cannon. From what I can tell.”
“Oh, he is. Always has been. I don’t know. Maybe he wants us to work for it.”
“Maybe he wants you to work together for it,” I say.
But Callum shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee. “Avery and I have always butted heads. And that’s mostly because the old man has pitted us against each other our whole lives. I guess he just likes a good cock fight, you know?”
“Maybe…he’s nervous about dying and is hoping this will make the two of you–”
Callum cuts me off. “He’s made it obvious that he only wants one man in the chair. And he wants a woman sitting next to that man. A good woman. A steady woman. If you and I are really going to be convincing, not just to Dad but to everyone, it would only make sense that we settle down and live in the same house.”
I look around the room. I can’t even imagine living in a place like this. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with it. Everything is over the top luxurious. Not to mention, it’s decorated nicely as well. There’s posters and art, mostly music related. An entire wall of vinyl. There's even a guitar collection and a keyboard. It’s my Zillow dream.
And all this can be yours…and the tiny expense of giving up everything else…
“So, what about my things?” I ask.
“I’m not using even half of the walk-in. We’ll have movers come and you can fill the space. I also have room for more vinyl, your guitars…anything that makes it feel like a home for now.”
I smile at his generosity, but the man is not quite getting it. “What about my apartment? It isn’t just going to go away.”
“We can sell it. I have an on-staff realtor. That’s easy.”
I sit up on my stool. “I don’t want to sell it, Callum. I know that all of this comes easy to you. But I have worked very, very hard for what I have. Sure, I don’t have marble floors or a view overlooking the city. But my place is cozy, and I’ve made it my own. It wasn’t easy to get, especially as a freelance songwriter.”
Callum’s face softens and he places his hands on my knees. “Of course. I’m sorry. I guess I was just trying to be logical and forgot that this world is still foreign to you. We don’t have to sell it. We can keep paying the mortgage, move a few things in here. But we do need to live together. It’s the only way anyone is going to buy our act.”
Our act.
Right.
Because none of this is real.
As real as some of it is starting to feel.
After I leave, I head straight home to change. Nothing says ‘I never went home last night’ like parading around the city in a ballgown at noon. The first thing I want to do is shower. I can still feel him, still smell him on my body. I don’t hate it to be honest but it’s hard to think straight when someone else's hormones are constantly reminding you about the best sex you’ve ever had.
