CHAPTER 11: To Let Off Some Steam
1926 Words
The meeting Calvin had with his clients had gone well. And now, he had signed a multi billionaire deal with a tech company. He needed more advanced machines in his business.
After it was all over, Calvin Dawson stepped out of the glass building with the same controlled stride he always carried, his expression unreadable, his posture impeccable. The deal had been sealed in less than an hour and he couldn't be more pleased.
Efficient and predictable, exactly how he liked it.
His driver, Zach, opened the car door ready to usher him in. But Calvin waved him off.
“I’ll take it from here.”
The man nodded and stepped aside.
Calvin slid into the driver’s seat himself, loosening his tie just slightly as he started the engine. The city lights flickered to life as dusk settled in, painting the streets in gold and shadow.
For a moment, as he drove everything was calm and quiet.
But then, she just had to waltz in. Her face surfaced. Uninvited and unnecessary.
Hell, it was annoying. He didn't like distractions and unexplained wanderings. Because he didn't understand why his mind kept wandering to her.
Was it her face? He had met thousands of girls more beautiful.
Was it her body? Sure, she had a body men would go to war for, but then. He had also seen lots of women with bigger assets than hers.
Was it her personality? She was just normal.
So, what exactly was it?
Calvin’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. He needed to get this woman out of his mind. He never lacked control, never had and never will.
And some blue - eyed woman wouldn't take that control from him.
But just as he thought he had handled his mishap –
Penelope.
He exhaled sharply. s**t! f*****g hell. Since when did he turn this ridiculous?
And the itching thought that she was familiar kept gnawing at him.
It just didn't make sense. She was an employee. A new, average one. So unremarkable.
And yet…his jaw ticked.
But why had she looked at him like that? Like she was not looking at him, but through him. Like she knew something he didn't.
The thought unsettled him more than it should have. He scoffed under his breath and pulled into traffic.
This was so bothersome.
Well, he was going to meet with his guys, his friends since high school, and he would cool off some steam.
Hopefully, he would kick out the barbie doll from his head as well.
…
The restaurant was exactly what you’d expect from men like them.
An exclusive restaurant. For the VIP’s, Rich and famous, moneylords and people of high status.
It was loud, but without being noisy. Expensive in a way that didn’t bother announcing itself.
Decorated not extravagantly, but just enough to scream wealth. Crystal glasses, low lighting, velvet seats, and conversations were everywhere, that carried just enough arrogance to match the price of the wine.
Calvin stepped inside, barely sparing the hostess a glance before he was already being led to a private section.
“They’re already here, Sir,” the hostess gestured.
Of course they were. They always were before he arrived.
Calvin rounded the corner, and there they sat. His chaos, contradiction and unfortunate choices in friendship.
“Finally!” one of them exclaimed, throwing his arms wide like Calvin had just returned from war. “The king arrives!”
“Shut up, Marcus,” Calvin muttered as he pulled out a chair.
Marcus Bale leaned back in his seat, completely unbothered, a grin stretched lazily across his face. He had the kind of charm that got him into trouble, and out of it just as easily.
Beside him sat Evan Russell, quieter but no less dangerous, swirling his drink with calculated ease.
“You’re late,” Evan said calmly.
“I’m on time. You’re early,” Calvin deadpanned.
Marcus scoffed. “You see what I mean?” He turned to Evan. “This is why I say he needs therapy.”
“I don’t need therapy.”
“You definitely do,” Marcus shot back. “You look like you schedule your emotions between meetings.”
Evan smirked into his glass, but Calvin ignored them.
Marcus, in the trio, was the most lively one and the dumbest too. Although he was stinkingly rich — mostly living off his parents’ wealth — he had one weakness.
Women.
The amount of women he slept with, were as uncountable as the grains of sand on earth – one thing he and Calvin always argued about.
Calvin called him a low level Genghis Khan. But Marcus saw himself as the bearer of an honored d**k.
Evan though, was a more practical down-to-earth billionaire who talked less. He was similar to Calvin but his obsession with green seemed to irk Calvin.
Like today, he wore a green suit. He wondered how his wife, Natalie, put up with him.
But then, his wife was just as strange. She literally loved everything Evan did. As far it wasn't murder.
Evan was the only one married in the circle.
“So, how was the deal?” Evan asked, taking a sip of his wine.
“Done.”
“Of course it is,” Marcus muttered. “You probably scared them into signing.”
“I didn’t have to.”
“Even worse,” Marcus said, raising his glass. “To Calvin Dawson—destroyer of competition and hearts alike.”
Calvin gave him a flat look and Marcus grinned wider.
The waiter came for their orders and more drinks were poured. Classy rich man's food arrived. And as always, the conversation drifted.
From business first. Then, markets, expansions and risks.
Calvin spoke less, but when he did, it carried weight. He wasn't much of a talker.
And then, like a switch had been flipped, the tone shifted.
Marcus leaned back, loosening his collar slightly. “So… speaking of acquisitions,” he began, eyes glinting mischievously, “I met someone last night.”
Evan sighed lightly. “Of course you did.”
Calvin took a sip of his drink, already regretting where this was going.
“She was incredible,” Marcus continued, completely undeterred. “Tall, confident, knew exactly what she wanted.”
“And what did she want?” Evan asked dryly.
Marcus grinned, “Me.”
Calvin scoffed quietly, “Delusional.”
Marcus pointed at him. “Jealous.”
“I’m concerned,” Calvin gave him a look.
Evan chuckled. “I give it two days,” he added.
“Three,” Marcus argued. “She seemed… invested in my amazing c**k. She rode it like some seething beast!”
Calvin shook his head slightly, his attention drifting. Their voices blurred into the background, as his eyes strode away.
This meeting was supposed to be a time he would spend with his guys. But, somehow, his mind circled back. To her. Again.
Penelope Adams.
Oh, f**k it.
Calvin’s grip on his glass tightened slightly. What in Alabama was wrong with him?
He needed…no. He had to get that woman off his mind. This wasn't good.
“You’re not even listening.”
Marcus’s voice cut through his thoughts and Calvin blinked, focusing back again.
“I am.”
“No, you’re not,” Marcus said, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve been zoning out for the past five minutes.”
Evan tilted his head slightly, observing. “That’s… new.”
Calvin set his glass down. “I said I’m listening.”
“Then what did I just say?” Marcus challenged.
Calvin paused. And realized he couldn't remember what Dufus Marcus had just spilled.
Marcus leaned back triumphantly, “Exactly.”
Evan smirked, not wasting anytime. “Who is she?”
Calvin frowned, “Who is who?”
Marcus laughed, “There is a ‘she.’ I knew it!”
“There isn’t.”
“Then why are you sitting here like you just discovered feelings?”
“I haven’t.”
Evan’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Work then?”
Calvin hesitated. Just for a second and that was all they needed.
Marcus slammed his hand lightly on the table. “Oh, this is good.”
“It’s nothing,” Calvin said flatly.
“Name.”
“No.”
Marcus leaned forward, grinning like a man who had found treasure.
“Is she pretty?”
Calvin didn’t answer. Because oh yes, she was damn pretty. Smoking hot even.
“Is she complicated?” Evan added quietly.
That…that made Calvin pause. His eyes dropped briefly to the table.
Complicated? He didn’t even know her. And yet…
“Yes,” he said before he could stop himself.
Marcus let out a dramatic gasp, “He admits it!”
Calvin immediately leaned back, irritation flashing across his face, “I didn’t—”
“You did,” Marcus cut in. “You just did!”
Evan’s lips curved slightly, “An employee?” he asked.
Calvin’s silence was answer enough. Marcus leaned back again, shaking his head in disbelief.
“This is dangerous.”
“It’s irrelevant.”
“It’s never irrelevant,” Marcus countered. “Especially when you’re involved.”
Calvin’s jaw tightened, “It’s not like that. Look, nothing is going on between us. If that's what you're thinking.”
“Sure,” Marcus said easily. “And I’m a monk.”
Evan chuckled under his breath.
Calvin exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. Why was this even a conversation?
Why was she even a thought?
“She’s just new,” he said finally. “That’s all.”
Marcus raised a brow, “And?”
“And nothing.”
Evan leaned back, studying him, “But you noticed her.”
Calvin didn’t respond. Because that was true, and they already knew it. And he didn’t like it. One bit.
The rest of the night continued.
But Calvin's friends realized he wasn't paying attention at all. Marcus stared at him for a while and then a thought struck him.
He grinned and slammed his hand on the table, “I just know what you might need, Cal.”
Calvin's eyes slowly drifted to him, “If it's a cigar, forget it.”
“Oh come on! You're not Jesus’ cousin,” Marcus whined, earning a funny look from Evan.
“But though,” the Dufus continued, “that was not my initial thought.”
Evan narrowed his eyes, “And what was?”
The man grinned, “Soft, curvy wom—”
“No,” Calvin deadpanned.
“Seriously, man?” Marcus gave him an incredulous look, “Dude, when was the last time you had s*x?”
“And why should I relay that information to you?” Calvin raised a brow at him.
“Because if you had enough women, that babe wouldn't be in your mind.”
Calvin rolled his eyes, “It's nothing serious.”
“Righhhht,” Marcus then turned to Evan, “Too bad man. You are already married. You can't come to the nightclub anymore.”
“I can…” Evan swirled his glass slowly, “But with my wife.”
Marcus had a scowl, “Go back to your wife, Loser. Calvin!” He turned to Calvin and stood up, flashing an annoying grin.
“I don't care what you say, but you will do as I say.”
“And who will force me?”
Marcus smirked, “We are going to the club tonight, Dawson. Whether you like it or not.”
- Writer
