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Should she be going to this event? Should she really be trying to fit into this alien world of theirs? In many ways, she felt like the proverbial square peg trying to be shoved into a round hole. No matter how much one tried, it just wasn’t going to work. What if that was the case here? Maybe it would be better if she didn’t waste the time and the anxiety.
Then there was Dylan. She’d gone back and forth all week regarding her decision to stay with him this weekend. Twice she almost told him she changed her mind about getting a hotel room for herself. The weekend before was magnificent. Regardless, she kept wondering if she should end things with him this weekend before she got in any deeper. It might be easier and far less painful to cut ties with him now rather than later.
The train rolled to a stop. “Penn Station,” a voice boomed over the PA system.
Too late to go back now. Gathering up her overnight bag and borrowed gown, Callie followed the rest of the passengers down the aisle toward an exit and some much needed space.
The minute her feet touched the platform, she spotted Dylan walking toward her through the crowd. Momentarily, she stopped breathing at the sight.
Lauren had it right when she called him an English god, and, at least for now, this god dressed in a charcoal gray suit was hers.
Don’t get too used to it. The thought brought a frown to her face. Get your act together. You should be happy. Smile.
Dylan’s own smile wavered slightly as he reached for her. After giving her a quick kiss, he asked, “What’s wrong?” He sounded concerned. “You look as if you just lost your best friend.”
Letting him take her bag, she forced her lips to form a smile. “Just a little tired.”
Callie really wasn’t lying; she was tired. She’d barely gotten any sleep the night before thinking about her trip this weekend and then had been up at five thirty to make it to work on time.
“Why don’t we skip going out for dinner and head straight to my place?” Taking her hand in his, he led her toward the exit. “We can have something delivered. Whatever you feel like eating. You name it, we can find it in the city.”
She’d only been in New York City once. It’d been a school trip her freshman year of high school. The class arrived late in the morning and spent the whole day visiting museums and shopping. The city was so congested and alive that day. She had wondered if it was always like that even late at night. Judging by the amount of traffic around them and people still on the sidewalks, it was. Obviously the city never slept.
Callie breathed a tiny sigh of relief when Dylan pulled his Aston Martin into the underground parking lot of his building. Personally, she hated driving in any city, and did it as little as possible. People seemed so much more aggressive there. Yet it hadn’t fazed Dylan in the least.
“I couldn’t drive in that every day,” she admitted when he opened the car door for her and helped her out.
Dylan slipped an arm over her shoulders. “You get used to it, but I don’t do it every day. Often I have a car pick me up.”
He had access to a car that could take him to and from anywhere he wanted, and he still paid to own a car in the city. Man did that seem like a waste. “If it was me, I’d have it pick me up every day. I wouldn’t even bother having a car.” She followed him into the elevator.
Dylan shrugged. “I like to drive. It’s my alone time. That’s why I drove to see you last weekend instead of flying.”
A few seconds later, the elevator doors opened and they stepped into a foyer that looked like it came straight from a movie. Several framed canvases hung on the walls and large crystal vases filled with fresh flowers were positioned on either side of the ornate door. Dylan opened the door and allowed her to walk in first. The marble tile from the foyer flowed into the penthouse apartment before ending at two hardwood steps that lead to an open living room filled with black leather furniture and glass tables. To her, it looked as if the room had been decorated straight from some interior-decorating magazine.
Callie couldn’t imagine living here. Everything was cold and sterile. There was nothing to indicate who lived here. No personal touches. No pictures of family. Yet she didn’t tell Dylan that as he gave her a quick tour. This was his home. She assumed he liked it the way it was. Why else would he decorate it this way?
“Finally, this is my office. I probably spend more time in here than in any other room.” Dylan pushed another door open.
She was speechless for a moment. This room looked so unlike the rest of the apartment.
“I love it,” she told him, stepping inside. “It’s beautiful.” Now this room told her something about the person who lived here.
Dylan gave her a 100-watt smile. “In the rest of the apartment, I let the designers have free rein, but not in here. I worked on every aspect of decorating this room.” She could hear the pride in his voice.
Callie wandered over toward the floor to ceiling bookcases. They were filled with everything from the classics to books on science and finance. “It’s an English library.”
Crossing his arms, he leaned against his massive desk. “I had my grandfather’s office at his country estate in mind when I did this room.”
She knew his maternal grandfather was an Earl and his father was a Viscount. She guessed the men she saw in the pictures with him were his father and grandfather. There was a definite family resemblance.
After looking at the pictures on the shelf, Callie walked to look at some on a side table. “We really do look like sisters.” She picked up the picture in the middle. It was an informal shot of Dylan with Warren, Elizabeth, and their children.
“Our eye and hair color are completely different, but we have the same shape face and nose.” A wave of sadness washed over her. She’d always wanted a sister. Now she had one, and the woman couldn’t stand the sight of her.
Carefully, she placed the picture back. “Why does she hate me?” Although she’d wanted to ask him before, she’d intentionally avoided the topic. Tonight her curiosity won out though.
Dylan walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “She doesn’t hate you.”
