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“No one will follow you. Get out.” That’s the last thing he says before running back in the direction of the chaos, his large body disappearing behind a building. What the hell was that?
“You heard him. Let’s go!”
I nod, my eyes meeting a scared Giannis. “Run.”
26
For the last forty-eight hours, I’ve been on edge.
Worrying. Watching the news.
And nothing.
Not a single news story has broken out, nor has there been sight of the man who helped us escape.
He’s the most predominant thought in my mind. Why did he help? Why not take it for himself?
That statue is worth a lot. By my research, more than the national debt of a small country.
So again, why help?
The only answer that makes sense is that my father hired him. Bought the soldier off to make sure we didn’t screw up.
A knock at the door pulls my attention from those thoughts and I freeze, fear taking over, until I remember that Giannis went out with his boyfriend and left the key behind. Looking through the window beside the door, I catch sight of a white shirt and dark green shorts and smile. Yup, Giannis.
“You should’ve taken the key, doofus!” I call out, bare feet padding over the few remaining steps. The heavy door has a large metal handle on this side, and after turning the lock, I pull it open. My mouth opens as the man turns around and then I’m choking, nervousness settling in deep. “Callum?”
“Aliana.”
One word, and I’m swallowing hard—chest rising rapidly while taking him in. From head to loafers, I watch him through wide eyes and trembling hands. I’m nervous, but happy, and at the same time a heated flash of fear runs down my veins and settles in my chest.
“How? What?” Not the most eloquent response, but my mind and heart have shut down. His presence hits me in the chest like a wrecking ball.
Oh, God. Does he know?
“Are you going to let me into my home, Venus?”
“Your what?” I wave a hand between us back and forth a few times before it drops, and I tilt my head to the side. I’m lost. So unsure of everything. And to make it worse, he’s looking at me as if I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever seen.
Hip jutting out, I put a hand there and narrow my eyes. Something isn’t right.
Gem-colored orbs drop from my face to my hip; he bites his bottom lip. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
“How did you find me?” I ask instead, although my cheeks stain pink.
Callum doesn’t answer, but he does hold a finger up and turns it in a silent demand for me to twirl. When I don’t move, he gives me a little grin. “Please.”
The short, white cotton dress I’m wearing clings to me, molds to my every curve and when I turn for him, it rises just a little higher on my thighs. With a halter-style top, I didn’t bother to wear a bra. A mistake now.
My breasts spill a little over the edge while my nipples are hard, pebbled tight and pushing against the soft fabric of the dress. His hooded eyes linger there for a minute before going lower and down the flat of my stomach to the width of my hips and then bare legs.
He even watches the way my white-painted toes wiggle against the travertine flooring with hunger.
How he watches me—devours me where I stand—makes me nervous. Fills me with anxiety, but more than that, it creates a palpable need in me. Those few seconds of silence make me shiver where I stand, and the thick outline of his cock becomes more pronounced. It jerks, and his name slips through my lips on a little moan.
Callum takes another step in my direction and lifts his hand to my cheek, cupping it while his thumb rubs my cheek. “I’d like to enter my home, please.”
“Oh!” That snaps me out of it, and I scramble back, nearly tripping, and his hands shoot out to catch me. One hard yank, and I’m against his every muscle, can feel them move, holding me tight as his arm goes around my waist and I’m lifted off the ground. “What’re you—”
