VIKTORIA:Update on your corporate hostage situation?
ME:About to have dinner with viral CEO's Scottish grandmother.
VIKTORIA:Need extraction coordinates?
ME:Not yet.But keep the helicopter fueled.
SUSANNA:Wear that green dress!The one that makes your butt look like you've been doing squats even though we all know that's a lie!
I look down at my outfit and scowl.
ME:You know me too well.Already wearing it
SUSANNA:HA!Power move.Get it, sis
I tuck my phone away.For a moment, the knot in my stomach loosens—then tightens again as the elevator announces my arrival with a discreet chime.
The doors slide open to reveal Callum's penthouse.
It’s something straight out of a GQ spread.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framing a rain-blurred Seattle skyline.Industrial-chic furniture softened by warm lighting…
And the unmistakable scent of something delicious roasting.
Not to mention, standing in the center of it all, like a flanneled tornado that's touched down in a Restoration Hardware showroom, is a tiny white-haired woman in a cashmere sweater that reads #KILTEDCASANOVA in perfect Celtic script.
"You're late," she announces in a clipped Scottish brogue."But you've brought decent wine and your eyebrows are sensible, so I'll overlook it."
“Gran—” Callum emerges from the kitchen, tall and broad and devastating in jeans and a gray henley that hugs him like it has a personal grudge against my composure.
Outside of the office, somehow, my new boss is even more imposing.
He takes a step towards me, and my mouth goes dry.
It’s never escaped me that my boss—my ex-boyfriend’s brother—is super attractive.Even more so than Richard.
But this?This is just unfair.
No man should look this good in just a shirt and simple jeans.
Pasting on a smile, I somehow manage to keep my uterus from throwing confetti as he gestures towards me, green eyes steady and sure.
“This is Karina Peters, our Marketing Director.Karina, my grandmother, Fiona Abernathy.”
“Charmed,” Fiona says, scanning me like a TSA agent with opinions.“Callum didn’t mention you’d have such excellent childbearing hips.”
I make a sound halfway between a gasp and a wheeze.Callum closes his eyes like he’s praying for the earth to swallow him whole.
“Gran.”
“It’s a compliment.In my day, we knew good breeding when we saw it.You’re Armenian, yes?Hardy people.”
“Uh, yes.We emigrated when I was three.”
“Peters?Not very Armenian.”
“It was Petrosian originally.”
