— How did you find me?
— I followed the shouting. And the swearing. And the trail of mud, he adds, glancing at the path the paparazzo took. What happened here?
I pat Hamish’s head.
— My new friend here decided a certain paparazzo needed a lesson in respecting privacy. It involved a lot of mud—and possibly a destroyed camera.
A slow smile spreads across Callum’s face.
— Hamish attacked a paparazzo… to defend you?
— He seems to have a gift for identifying unwanted people.
— Impressive, Callum says. He’s never shown that kind of loyalty to anyone outside the family.
The words hang between us.
— Jane… he begins. I came to apologize.
— Really? For what exactly?
— For even considering that you might’ve been involved. For not being on your side immediately. For thinking about the business before thinking about you.
He runs a hand through his hair.
— I panicked. When I saw that photo… when I realized our private arrangement could be exposed… my first instinct was to find someone to blame. To regain control.
— And naturally, I was the most likely suspect—the disgraced actress, I say bitterly.
— It was unfair. And irrational. Especially after… after these past few days.
Our eyes meet, and something shifts.
— Keira gave me a monumental dressing-down after you left, he adds with a sheepish smile. In very colorful terms, she reminded me you were the main victim here—and that Iwas acting like an “emotionally stunted idiot obsessed with his precious empire.”
— I like your sister more and more.
— She likes you too. A lot. Actually… my whole family does.
Silence settles, broken only by Hamish’s occasional bleat.
— And you? I ask quietly. Do you like me, Callum? Or am I just a contract getting increasingly complicated?
His answer matters more than I want it to.
— You were never just a contract to me, he says softly. Even at the beginning, when I pretended otherwise. And these past few days…
He hesitates, searching for words.
— They’ve changed things. More than I was prepared to admit.
Hamish suddenly stands and wanders off, as if giving us space.
— What does that mean? I ask.
— I’m not entirely sure, he admits. Which is… unsettling for someone who usually plans everything down to the minute.
He steps closer and sits beside me, taking Hamish’s place.
