Page 52 of Untroubled Heart

Never before have I known such exquisite torment as that of loving you in secrecy, and then, in a trial most cruel, you danced with him.

Yet even in that moment, I found solace, for with each turn, you cast your eyes toward me, and within them, I discerned a melancholy I know as intimately as my own.

If the darkness is all we may have for now, meet me in our spot. I’ll be waiting in the shadows.

For you. Always. Your Greyson.”

“The way he longs for her.” My hands clutch my chest. “Do you think they ended up together? I can’t imagine loving someone like that and not having a happily ever after in the end.”

“We’ve got the dates,” he says, shuffling through more letters. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find some record that goes back far enough to see who used to live here at the time.”

“Really?”

His eyes flare, then he holds his hand between us, a simple, silver band pinched between his fingers. “Oh, we are definitely finding out how this ends.”

Chapter nineteen

Things began to change between Callie and me after that first day working on the house. It had already been building from the moment we met, a train travelling to an unknown destination at a steady pace until the course redirected, and suddenly, it was gaining speed. Whatever line we tiptoed around when she first started working for me, the one that kept us safely on our own sides, had started to move, dipping and weaving to the point where you can’t see where boss and employee, friends, or something else entirely belonged—it all just mixed into some intoxicating concoction of I need more. More of everything.

Sleeping at night has become pointless. It’s not enough to spend most of my days around her because by the time I fall into bed, she’s still on my mind.

I lay there, replaying all the moments with her from the day. Every smile, every moment she’s opened up about her past, letting me see more of her.

Then there are the moments she puts on her glasses, and I start sweating, cock stirring beneath the sheets. I throw off the blankets, attempting to cool down, but it never helps. The second cool air hits my rock-hard cock, the fantasies take over. All I can see is her sitting above me, hands braced on my chest as she bounces slowly up and down. It’s never me driving into her, taking her hard and fast from behind, which is what I normally do with women, never wanting to look them in the eyes cos I don’t want them to see me. No. When I imagine Callie, it’s always in a way I can stare deep into her eyes. It’s her nails scoring the skin over my heart. It’s her taking ownership of me because I’m powerless to keep possession of myself when it comes to her. And when I finally grip my cock, moving my hand up and down, toes curling and hips arched as if I’m begging to reach her, my thumb teasing over the ring through the tip, it’s her name that I groan into the still room as cum coats my stomach. Only then can I finally sleep for a few hours before my brain wakes me up because I know I get to see her again. Collect more little moments of her to replay when I’m back to being alone.

There was never any hope of keeping things professional with Callie Moore—not when I count down the hours until I see her, or when I wait until the end of the day to shower just so I can keep her sweet caramel scent around me.

“What about this one?” Callie holds up a sample tile of a white benchtop with a subtle grey vein running through the marble, pulling me from my thoughts. Even when she’s right beside me, my mind can’t get enough.

We’ve got samples spread out all over the long table in Beth’s design library, arranging them together as we agree on each selection: a white for the cabinets, a brushed gold for the cabinetry, a cloudy grey for the bathroom tiles, and wide oak floorboards with a deep espresso stain.

“I like this.” I take the sample from her and put it with the rest of the colours we’ve chosen.

“What’s next?” she asks, picking up her iced strawberry matcha.

I pick up my list, along with my iced chocolate. “Splashback tiles and paint.”

“Okay, hear me out.” She licks her lips before setting her drink down and jumping up onto the table. My eyes are stuck on the spot, vaguely aware of her flipping through the pages of a book. “I saw this before, and I reckon it could be really cool for a bit of colour.”

She turns the brochure around, showing an image of a white tile with a blue floral design that creates a repeating pattern. It looks vintage, like something you’d see on Grams’s fancy china.

“Could you imagine this just in that recessed part where the blue stove is? And then I was thinking about just the island bench having blue cabinetry. To break up the white and make sure the blue doesn’t look random.” She looks down at the pages, and I track the swallow that bobs down her throat, her next words sounding less sure. “I dunno. I like how it would be kinda unexpected, and I like the idea of colour in the kitchen if it’s somewhere the family is always going to be.”

Her reasons make me smile. She doesn’t just pick what she thinks looks good or what other people would like, she’s imagining what it would be like to live in this space. To be honest, I’m imagining her there too.

I step closer to her, my stomach brushing against her knees as I take the brochure from her hands.

“I love it,” I say. When I look up, Callie’s focused on my lips.

My own eyes drop to hers. Why does this feel like the perfect moment to kiss her? I’ve never had moments like this, ones that feel like you’re answering fate. Some predetermined destiny, following along behind you until you were ready to take it into your own hands.

If she were anyone else, other than my employee. If I were anyone else, other than someone who didn’t shy away from love, I would have done it already. I would have taken a chance on her long ago. I would have accepted that she was put in my path for a reason.

I’m not sure who leans in first. It happens too slowly, like a cosmic shift, until the reckoning descends in the form of my sister.

“Helloooooo,” she sings.

Callie and I jump apart.