Playing Pretend Read online

  To Dr. Susan Kriegler.

  For showing me that my voice is louder than the monsters in my head.

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty – Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  THE LINE BETWEEN

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  PLAYING PRETEND

  Copyright © 2016 by Tamsyn Bester

  Cover Design by © Cassy Roop, Pink Ink Designs

  PHOTO COPYRIGHT © Cassy Roop, Pink Ink Designs

  Formatting by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs

  Editing by Emma Mack of Ultra Editing Co

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  MY CAR SPLUTTERED TO a stop as the stoplight turned red. I cranked open my window, my skin already coated with a light sheen of sweat. Manhattan was humid at this time of year, and a sharp contrast to the weather I’d grown accustomed to over the last two years. Admittedly I’d missed this city, with it’s tall, looming skyscrapers, and pedestrian-filled streets. The sweet hum of Monday morning traffic providing a rhythm no song on the radio could match.

  The light turned green, and I gripped my steering wheel tighter the closer I got to Park Avenue. I was nervous, but also excited to be back in the place I once called home. The streets, filled with a sea of yellow, felt familiar, but also different. Or maybe it was me who was different.

  In fact, I knew I was.

  And that thrilled me.

  And scared me a little too.

  I checked my watch, and sighed in relief when Callahan Industries finally came in to view. It was situated opposite the Waldorf-Astoria, and its glass exterior, and clean lines somehow created a disparity between the new world and the old glamor of Manhattan’s longest standing hotel.

  After pulling into the underground parking, I checked my make-up, and headed inside, trying to quell the nerves making my blood pump furiously through my veins.

  It was my first interview after graduating with a degree in Communications, and out of the two hundred emails and resumes that I’d sent out, Callahan Industries was the only place that had shown an interest in me at all. Rather than be discouraged by that, I decided to make the most of it, and hoped that they liked me as much in person as they had on paper.

  People milled around in the spacious lobby, coming and going through the revolving doors, and the sight of all the designer suits gave way to a slight prickle of apprehension. I was underdressed in my thrift store black pencil skirt, and turquoise peasant silk blouse, but did the best I could with what I had and hoped it would be enough.

  “Miss Kavanagh?”

  I looked up, and found a young Indian woman regarding me with a soft, welcoming smile. Her black hair was tied up into a high bun, and like everyone else around us, she was impeccably dressed in navy wide-leg trousers, and a black silk top with a bow around her neck. I shifted nervously, and rose to my feet.

  “That’s me,” I replied.

  “I’m Aaliyah. Macy Weatherford sent me, she’s ready for you.”

  I followed behind Aaliyah, clutching my purse close to my chest when I stepped into an elevator. A few other men joined us, and then the remaining space was filled with a group of young women. They were laughing, and giggling behind their hands, and from the way they huddled together I’d guessed they were secretaries – the proverbial gossip grapevine within any organization.

  “Samantha said he turned her down,” one giggled, brushing her brown hair over her shoulder. “And when she asked him if it was because he’s gay, he just snorted and walked away from her without another word. Poor girl was so humiliated, she cried for days.”

  “Of course he turned her down,” another retorted. She rolled her eyes, and made a tsking noise. “It’s Caleb fucking Callahan for God’s sake. He never dates staff…”

  I froze at the mention of his name. It might have been years since I’d last heard it being uttered by anyone, but it still made my pulse flutter.

  The elevator dinged, preventing me from taking a walk down memory lane, and I watched as the gossiping women got off on the twentieth floor. By the time we reached our destination – the fifty-second floor – Aaliyah and I were alone, and for the first time I second-guessed my decision to apply for a position at Callahan Industries. Granted, I wouldn’t be working directly for Caleb, but couldn’t help but wonder if he’d remember me.

  Because I never forgot him.

  Not that any girl would ever forget her first kiss.

  The elevators doors opened into an open-planned office space separated by double glass doors. It has been featured in several décor magazines with its’ tiled floors, colorful yet modern furniture, and bright paintings. With only the executive offices on this floor, it was quiet, but with an atmosphere that coveted creativity in its simplest of forms. It was minimalistic, and sparsely, but tastefully decorated. Aaliyah stopped in front of a door, and disappeared inside for a brief moment. She returned with a smile, and gestured for me to go inside.

  Macy Weatherford was the Head of Public Relations, and the person I had to impress. She was a tall woman, with a severe red bob, and a beautiful heart-shaped face. Her green silk jersey wrap dress made her shapely legs look longer, and accentuated her very round baby bump. She was stunning, and if I hadn’t already met her over an impromptu Skype ‘meeting’ before moving back to Manhattan, I would have been intimidated. But I wasn’t. I liked her and I was determined not to have any preconceived ideas about what she was like in person.

  Turned out Macy was nice, and had a predilection for individuals who worked their way up from nothing, rather than those who were born into a life of wealth a
nd privilege. She didn’t need to know that I was the latter, only that I was no longer that person. We’d been discussing the courses I took at college for the last twenty minutes, and until now, I had every reason to believe the job was mine.

  “I’m going to cut to the chase,” she said, leaning back in her fancy leather chair. My heart sank, and I braced myself for the impending rejection, thinking about what I would do next. “You don’t have the experience we would normally require for the position you applied for, but here at Callahan Industries we believe strongly in developing the individuals we feel have the potential to succeed with us.”

  I held my breath, and prayed that she was still going to give me a chance, in spite of finding my experience lacking.

  “Which is why I’d like to offer you a different position, as an Assistant Publicist. I have three months left until my maternity leave starts, and if I feel you’ve made enough progress in that time I will promote you to Junior Publicist. Until then, you’ll report to me. How does that sound?”

  It wasn’t what I wanted, and I figured the salary would be significantly less, but this was the only job opportunity that had come my way, and I wasn’t afraid or embarrassed to admit that I was desperate.

  “It sounds perfect,” I replied. My voice trembled with relief, and I blinked away the tears threatening to spill.

  “Great. Let’s go over your list of responsibilities, and what I expect, and then I’ll have your contract drawn up.”

  I nodded, and listened intently for the hour that followed. The longer Macy spoke, the more I relaxed, and the more I realized everything was going to be okay.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, I buzzed myself through the glass doors that separated the top floor offices from the bank of elevators. The morning sunlight illuminated the tiled floors as it gleamed through the windows overlooking midtown Manhattan, the streets below already filled with street vendors, yellow cabs and pedestrians. Rather than risk the remaining life span of my historic Honda Civic, I purchased a Metro card, and took the subway, gauging the amount of time it would take me to get to work every day. I was glad when I timed it at no longer than thirty-five minutes, adding a few extra minutes for the walk from Grand Central to Park Avenue.

  I powered up my work-issued MacBook, and put my purse in my desk-side drawer. I sat directly outside Macy’s office, and despite the lack of privacy, I was grateful to have my own workspace.

  After brushing my hands down my black lace crew neck dress with short sleeves – another thrift store find – I ventured into the small kitchenette next door to the boardroom and made a fresh cup of coffee. I was tempted to stop at Starbucks, but reconsidered when I realized the coffee at the office was free. Until I could save enough to buy small luxuries, free coffee would have to do.

  The office was unusually quiet, and as I wandered around, familiarizing myself with the space, I noted the names on the doors. They were of little consequence to me, until I reached the double doors at the end of the hallway.

  ‘Caleb Callahan, CEO’ was written in bold, masculine letters, and I silently wondered what his office looked like. I had no reason to believe I would see much of him, considering he wasn’t my immediate boss, but that didn’t stop the onslaught of memories that had kept me awake the night before. Five years had done little to fade them, or make their effect on me any less beguiling. All night I’d thought of nothing but his smile…The mischievous gleam in his eye…The soft, yet powerful way he kissed...

  “Who the hell are you?”

  I turned quickly, almost spilling the hot liquid in my mug, and found a tall, leggy brunette scowling at me. Her abstract print silk blouse was tucked into the front of white pleated wide leg pants, and the look was completed with nude peep-toe Louboutins. Long, brown waves cascaded over her shoulders, and her make-up was flawless. Her eyes scrutinized me as she said, “Interns aren’t allowed up here.”

  “I’m not an intern,” I replied. My voice was too soft, and gave away just how intimidated I was by the young woman in front of me. Her red lips thinned as she folded her arms across her chest.

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  I chastised myself for being tyrannized by a complete stranger. “I’m Kadence. The new Assistant Publicist.”

  I stuck my hand out, expecting Miss Hoity-Toity to take it, except she looked at it like it was diseased. I dropped it quickly.

  “Did you just make that up? I didn’t know we were hiring an ‘Assistant Publicist’.” She said the last part with air quotes, and I bristled. It wasn’t in my nature to be rude, my pedigreed upbringing didn’t allow it, but it wouldn’t prevent me from defending myself.

  “Macy Weatherford hired me,” I replied, refusing to explain myself to someone I didn’t know. “You should really check with her.”

  I moved past the stranger and walked back towards my desk when I noticed that Aaliyah, the affable receptionist from the day before, had finally arrived. Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

  “Good Morning, Kadence!” she greeted enthusiastically. Her smile was bright, and filled with a rare genuity, until she saw the woman behind me.

  “Oh, Jennifer. You’re in today.” Aaliyah’s tone – suddenly false, and sarcastic – made me want to snicker. I had a feeling we were going to get along just fine.

  “Is Macy suffering from pregnancy brain?” asked Jennifer. “She didn’t tell me we were hiring, and I doubt Caleb would have approved it. It must be a mistake.”

  I stiffened, feeling a tight ball of nerves unfurl in my stomach. It was my first day and I was already involved in ‘office politics’ that I knew nothing about.

  Talk about a great way to start a new job.

  “News Flash, you’re not the boss around here, and last I checked, neither Macy nor Caleb report to you. You’re just being pissy because you have your eye on Macy’s position.”

  Jennifer straightened her stance in defense, and glared at Aaliyah. “When Macy makes me her protégé, the first thing I’m going to do is find a new receptionist. So if I were you, I’d watch your step.”

  Aaliyah simply rolled her pretty brown eyes. “Please. I might be a lowly receptionist but I’m damn good at my job, and in case you’d forgotten, Caleb is the one who hired me. I highly doubt spreading your legs for him a second time would get him to fire me.”

  Jennifer’s mouth dropped open, as did mine. “How dare you!”

  Aaliyah flicked her wrist, and shoo’d Jennifer away before turning to face me. I saw the telltale sign of victory in her eyes, and made a mental note not to get on her bad side.

  “Ignore her,” she told me, disregarding the fact that Jennifer was still standing beside us. “I need to make sure you’re all set for your first day. Macy asked me to have your laptop set up with all the necessary software, and give you a copy of both her schedule, and the event calendar for the company. You’re going to be a busy bee, so I hope you’re not too fond of sleep.”

  “O-okay,” I stuttered, turning just in time to see Jennifer storm off. I stared at her back, replaying Aaliyah’s comment in my mind. Spreading your legs for him a second time. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it was like a pinprick to the ridiculous fantasies I’d been having about Caleb from the time I was seventeen. Shaking the irrational thoughts from my head, and berating their existence in the first place, I looked back at Aaliyah, and forced a smile.

  “Lead the way,” I said, ready to forget the way my day had started.

  The remainder of my morning was a torrent of activity. Once my laptop and work email were set-up, Macy caught me up on the major events we would be overseeing over the next few months, the first of which was the Annual Shareholders Gala in just two weeks. It was the official kick-off to the event season at Callahan Industries, and from what I’d been told, it was quite a grand affair.

  I absorbed as much as I could, and by the time my lunch break came around, I was in need of a breather.

  At a quarter after the hour, Macy came out of her o
ffice, dressed in a navy blue ruched Maternity tank dress, and black peep-toe heels. Her red hair was clipped out of her face, showing off her pregnancy glow.

  “You ready?” she asked, closing her office door. “The meeting with the heads of departments starts in fifteen minutes, and I’m jonesing for a scone before we start.”

  I grabbed my notebook, and a pen, and followed her to the boardroom where we’d had my interview. The room was already filled with a low hum of conversation, and I was grateful when Macy introduced me to the other executives. Gregg Attrige was the Head of Media and Advertising, and from the formal way he shook my hand, I deduced that he was a few years older than every one of his colleagues. His silver hair was coifed to the side, and he dressed well. We spoke briefly before I was introduced to the next executive, Annabel McCain. She too was immaculately dressed with her black hair in a pixie cut, and pale green eyes. She was only three years older than me, putting her at twenty-five, and was the chief editor of Callahan Lifestyle Magazine. It was unheard of that someone her age had such a prestigious title, but she explained that the magazine was her brainchild, and Caleb had provided her with the funds, and the platform to get it off the ground. Her bubbly personality, and easy sense of humor made me feel right at ease, and I knew we would be good friends. The last two executives, Anthony and Julian, were two (very obviously) gay gentlemen who I learned were the masterminds responsible for Callahan Industries’ newest procurement: Callahan Couture. They studied me, dressed in their designer clothes, their manicured hands flicking the air dramatically, and after a brief assessment, engulfed me in a hug rather than the customary head nod or handshake. They were ostentatious, and ridiculously over the top, but like everyone else in the room, they belonged, and added a unique flare to an already diverse team.

  Once the introductions were over, Macy and I sat down, and I prepared myself to take minutes and any additional notes I thought would help me for future meetings. I hadn’t realized that I was anticipating Caleb’s arrival, until he blew in through the door, ten minutes late. My breathing shallowed, and I watched with eager eyes as he stood at the head of the table, exuding both power and a sense of subdued supremacy. He’d always been that way, only now it seemed far more…intense.