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None of that really matters, not while knowing how badly Tatum needed me. I wish I could stay and spend the night with her. Only that would also mean explaining to my father where I’ll be, and that’s another train wreck waiting to happen. I don't need him pulling up in a rage, threatening Callum. Things would be so much worse if he showed up here. The kind of worse you don't come back from.
Yet another thing Callum lied to me about, or at least neglected to mention; there's absolutely no way he didn’t realize my father was hunting him like a gazelle. Trying to pin any crime he could on him. He didn’t ever bring it up. I mean, on the one hand, I can see why he might want to spare me.
“Hey, Bianca, your father's dead set on putting me behind bars. Let's fuck.”
It’s not exactly the best use of foreplay. Then again, perhaps I would have thought twice about getting involved with him if I knew exactly why my Father never seemed keen on Callum. It's no secret he walks on the wrong side of the law. Intuition always told me he did sketchy things for a living. The bombshell my dad dropped on me obliterated everything I thought I knew. The fact that my Dad was utterly aware of it and determined to stop him takes things to a whole other level.
My father's obsession with making Callum pay isn’t just unhealthy, it’s terrifying. If he were to discover I’m here, that would be the ultimate betrayal after the knowledge he shared with me. I won’t choose between Callum and my father, especially when there is nothing to choose. Callum and I are nothing, and my father wants revenge for something he has yet to prove Callum did. Trying to wrap my head around it makes my temple throb. To think I was complaining not too long ago about how simple my life was.
Sorry fate, I’ve changed my mind. Please make things normal again.
My steps are quiet as I slowly descend down the hall. Tatum doesn't have a private entrance, although I can see why her father wouldn't want that either. He needs to at least know when she’s coming or going. Control in every aspect is his thing.
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise with every step. I’m looking over my shoulder every few strides. I’m not sure why I’m so paranoid. He hasn’t been here the entire time, and I have no reason to fear him. He’s never hurt me, and he wouldn’t, but that’s not what this is. The fear I have isn’t for him. It comes from falling for him. I’m weak where he is concerned, and if I want to leave with my heart intact, I need to make sure I stay strong and firm, because the second he touches me I’ll become putty in his hands.
I need to know all the facts. If he’s responsible for my mother’s death, or whatever’s actually going on with him and Amanda. I can’t allow anything to happen. He says she’s nothing, but why aren’t they divorced yet if that were true? I have to remind myself that we’re nothing. That what we’ve shared never should have happened. Just a few more steps. I turn my attention back toward the door. My shoes slap against the floor, the sound echoing through the house. The door is in sight. I’m seconds away from escaping.
The heavy foyer door opens, and I freeze mid-step. Suddenly I feel like a mouse caught in a trap. Callum steps inside, his features hidden in the dim lighting. I stare at him, drinking in the image of the man in front of me. His high cheekbones, perfectly sculpted chin and nose, with thick lashes that frame his green eyes. My heart hammers in my chest, and I curl my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching for him.
What you shared wasn’t real. Think of your mother. Remember, he doesn’t want you. He wants to keep you, like a trophy.
No matter what I tell myself, none of the things hit home. The appeal they should have on my conscious thoughts wholly misses the mark. It’s hard to remind myself of anything except the way he makes me feel when he’s standing before me like a Greek god, ready to head off into battle. He lets out a feral growl as he slams the door closed, his gaze sweeping the room almost as if he can sense me standing there.
Our gazes collide. It’s a cosmic affair. I forget how to function, forget that he is the villain in my fairytale. He pauses, his entire body becoming an impassable iceberg. I try to ignore how his eyes drink me in, the way his tongue darts out over his bottom lip.
