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Her head slowly lifts. Green eyes meet mine. “Roman?”

Fuck. Me.

21

CALLIE

I've been kidnapped by a hitman.

Well, technically, Roman only dragged me outside Bramble & Bean where fewer people are walking. But I feel like terminology matters less than enthusiasm.

And my hitman can kidnap me any day.

Focus, Callie. You have business to attend to.

I pull up the viewer list on my Instagram Story.

“James Miller.”

“Who?”

“Don't.”

“You asked.”

“You're James.”

He doesn't react. Not even a blink.

“James Miller,” I repeat.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

I lean forward and push my phone closer to his face. “James Miller four-seven-two-nine.”

His gaze meets mine. “No idea who that is.”

“Really?”

He shrugs. “Should I?”

“Yes, you should.”

“Why?”

I glare at him. “Why?” I lower my phone and rub my forehead, searching for another tactic.

Be calm. Logical.

Instead of being rational and controlled, I blurt out, “You're lying.”

“Prove it.”

Damn it. That’s not how this was supposed to go.

I stare at him.

Roman stares back.