10
979 Words
When I stare at him in silence with my lips pursed, he says, “Don’t overthink it.”
“Telling a woman not to overthink something is as dangerous as telling her to calm down when she’s angry.”
A faint smile lifts the corners of his lips. “I only meant that I have to be good at keeping secrets because of business. I was raised to hold my cards close to the chest. With the position my family is in, we never know who we can trust. So we don’t trust anyone.”
“What, like, nobody?”
“No one outside the family, no.”
I think about that for a moment. “Sounds like a miserable existence.”
“It’s not.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. So I guess this means I’ll have to learn to keep secrets. I mean, since I’m going to be family and everything.” I laugh and swallow the last sip of my martini.
“You still don’t think I’m serious. I assure you, I am.”
I want to roll my eyes again, but he looks so intense, I don’t chance it. I’ve decided he isn’t a murderer, but there’s a ton of gray area between killer and good guy. Besides, anyone who’d ask a stranger to marry him is at least a teensy bit off in the head.
Inside my purse, my cell starts to ring. When I ignore it, Callum says, “I don’t mind if you need to take that.”
“I can talk to her later.”
He looks intrigued. “How do you know who it is?”
“We have a psychic connection.”
He stares at me, narrowing his eyes.
“Just kidding.” I’m not, but I don’t want to sound insane. There’s enough of that going around already. “It’s my girlfriend Daniela. When I sent her the pics of your driver’s license and other stuff, I also told her to call me in exactly thirty minutes to make sure I wasn’t dead.”
“You have an overactive imagination.”
That makes me smile. “Guilty. Comes from reading too many books.”
He chuckles. “So if you don’t pick up the call, she’ll think I’ve done something awful to you and call 9-1-1?”
“You don’t seem terribly worried about the idea.”
He casually lifts a shoulder. “I know the chief of police.”
“You’re saying he wouldn’t care if you murdered me? That’s a little insulting.”
“I’m saying he knows I wouldn’t murder anyone. He’d assume it was a prank.”
“Wait, this is confusing. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you wouldn’t murder anyone.”
“It means I wouldn’t have to do it myself.”
I can’t tell if that was a joke or not, but I’ll think about it later. “What if you snapped?”
His gaze steady, he says, “I’m not the snapping type.”
I knew it. He’s totally a control freak.
Just to prove it, he says, “Go ahead. Answer the call. You have my permission.”
“Your permission,” I repeat, my tone dry. “What a relief.”
Without breaking eye contact, he reaches out and touches the fork next to his plate. He strokes the tip of his finger slowly down the handle. Then, because he clearly wants me to faint, he moistens his lips again.
The phone stops ringing. Callum and I stare at each other. The phone starts to ring again.
“Answer it,” he commands softly. He strokes his finger back up the handle of the fork, caressing it like a lover’s skin.
Never before in all my life have I been jealous of a piece of silverware. What the hell is he doing to me?
I fumble for my handbag hanging off the back of my chair. Then I fumble around inside it, looking anywhere but at the burning-hot hunk of machismo sitting across from me.
Phone in hand, I start to rise, murmuring, “I’ll just take this outside.”
“Sit,” he orders, his voice low and dark.
I plop back down into my chair so fast, my head spins. Then I sit there, stunned, as Callum’s small smile grows wider.
It must be the martini. It’s gone to my head. There’s no other reasonable explanation as to why I’d obey him so unthinkingly.
I raise the phone to my ear and say something. Pretty sure it’s a hello, but I wouldn’t swear on it.
“Callum McCord?” hollers Dani over the line. “Callum f*****g McCord? Are you kidding me?”
“Yes, I’m still alive, thank you very much for asking.”
Blasting right past that, she launches into a series of rapid-fire questions.
“How did you meet him? Is he as hot in person as he is in photos? Does he smell as good as he looks? I bet he smells like a f*****g candy store. Where are you right now? What exactly are you doing? And what about the BDE? I bet he’s got major big d**k energy, am I right? Jesus Christ, Emery, why aren’t you saying anything?”
She’s shouting so loudly, I’m sure half the restaurant can hear. Callum definitely can, because from the corner of my eye, I see him smirking.
“Good to know you’re so concerned for my well-being, Dani. Remind me to text someone who cares next time I think I’m about to be kidnapped.”
She scoffs. “Oh, please. No kidnappers would ever be able to withstand hearing you go on and on about Jamie Fraser from Outlander. They’d return you in five minutes.”
I say sourly, “You’re too kind. I’ll call you later.”
- Writer
