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“You let me know if he contacts you again. Understood?”
Joshua’s directive echoed in my brain as I automatically reached for my phone. Pausing to calculate time zones, I scrolled to his number, hesitant to place the call. I sucked in a deep breath, stared at his number, and eventually pressed call.
He picked up on the third ring. “What a fantastic surprise, little one.” From his tone, I visualized his smile, and my heart skipped a beat. The fear calmed instantly. “Did you make it safe and sound?”
“Yes. I’m here at the castle, all settled in. How’s it going with you?”
There was a long pause. So long I wondered if I’d lost the connection.
“What’s wrong, Mellie?”
“W-what makes you think something’s wrong?” I stammered.
“You might be halfway around the damn world, but I can feel and hear it in your voice. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Davis somehow got my number,” I confessed.
“What? How?” His voice turned hard and cold.
“I don’t know. He sent me a couple of messages.”
“Let me guess, he wants you back, right?”
“Yes.”
Joshua blew out an angry sigh. “I’ll take care of it, little one. You just focus on doing your job. I don’t want you worrying about that dipshitiot.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “A dip what?”
“Dipshitiot. It’s a combination of dip shit and idiot,” he chuckled. “Although Kerr might need a whole classification all his own, like dipshitiothole.”
I flopped back on the bed, giggling. Joshua was amazing. He knew exactly how to wipe away my worries and insecurities, and make me laugh while doing it. No other man before him had possessed that kind of magic.
“It feels longer than a day,” I whispered softly.
“I know,” he murmured. “I’m in my studio. I come here when I need to think.”
“What are you thinking about?” I urged.
“You. Me. Life,” he replied cryptically.
“And what thoughts are running through that handsome head of yours?”
“Oh, they’re not running through my head, little one. They’re running through my hands.”
I turned and looked at the statue. A lump of emotion swelled in my throat. I swallowed tightly and blinked the tears from my eyes. I should have realized from the start that Joshua filtered his emotions through his hands, not his words.
My brain flashed in a slide of the pieces displayed at Christian’s gallery. I could clearly see the depths of Joshua’s pain, the whimsy of his dreams, and the ache of his desires. It was as if he’d sliced open his chest, granting the world a glimpse of his loving and wounded heart. Yet, no one knew. No one but me.
“What are you working on?”
“It’s a surprise,” he chuckled.
“That’s not fair.” I grinned. “You have to give me a hint.”
“Do I now? Seems you lost your submission somewhere over the ocean, girl.”
He wanted to project a stern Dominant tone, but I sensed the grin on his face.
