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The canned American laughter from Friends re-runs will haunt my dreams. Callen’s beady eyes watch me from the other side of the living room, glancing up from his laptop screen at regular intervals. He’s been my shadow today. He even followed me when I went to the toilet. I tested the theory by making a farting noise with my hands and quickly poking my head around the door to find him chuckling. He doesn’t trust me.
My skin prickles as his gaze scorches into the back of my head. He can stare all he likes, but he won’t find answers in my ponytail.
I turn to catch him in the act and ask for the third time, “What are you working on?”
He grins and returns to tap away on his keyboard. “None of your business.”
“Maybe I can help?” I suggest. “I’m a journalist.”
“And I’m a lone wolf,” he replies, reclining in the armchair and stretching. His biceps ripple, and he smirks. He looks good, and fucking knows it. “Why don’t you go back to watching TV and not worrying your little head about anything important? Freddie and Seb will be back to play with you soon. If you’re bored, you can make me a cuppa.”
“Go to hell.”
I cross my arms in a sulk. A few minutes later, the door rattles, and Freddie returns. His arms are laden with different-sized shopping bags. You can tell whatever he bought is from designer boutiques because they’re made from thick paper, not the usual plastic shit.
“Someone’s been splashing the cash,” Callen remarks, running his hand through his shoulder-length hair to flex his muscles more. “What’s the occasion?”
Freddie scowls and ignores him, then places them at my feet. “These are for you.”
My jaw drops. “What are they?”
“Clothes,” Freddie replies. “I didn’t know your size and wasn’t sure about your style, but the shop assistants were helpful.”
“You shouldn’t have,” I say, unwrapping a gorgeous dress from a mountain of tissue paper. It’s beautifully made, yet impractical for binge-watching TV. Seeing the zeros on the price tags, my eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “Holy shit.”
“What is it?” Freddie asks. “Don’t you like it?”
“It’s not that. They’re gorgeous,” I insist. “But all of this must have cost a fortune.”
Freddie shrugs nonchalantly. “If I can’t spend money on the people I care about, what’s the point in having it?”
“There’s nothing wrong with a man wanting to spoil you, princess,” Callen chips in, tainting Freddie’s gesture with his mocking tone. “Why don’t you dress up for us?”
“I can’t accept this,” I say, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice. Callen words burrow under my skin. “I have a wardrobe full of clothes at home. I could have gone to pack a bag.”
“It’s too dangerous for you to go home right now.” Freddie’s face falls. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
Callen’s sly blue eyes sparkle. Mission accomplished.
“I mean, they’re gorgeous,” I say, spotting a stunning lingerie set stashed among the goodies. “But you shouldn’t have.” I ruffle in another bag and take out a masquerade mask and a ball gown. I raise my eyebrows. “I’m not sure what you see women wearing in London, but I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to wear this.”
“Seb thinks you’ll have an occasion,” Freddie replies. His lips press into a thin, disapproving line.
Callen lets out a low whistle. “He wants to take Rosethere?”
“Take me, where?” I ask.
“Nothing is decided yet,” Freddie snaps. From the intense look in his eyes, it’s clear he doesn’t want me to go to this mysterious place.
“Who wouldn’t want to dress like a real princess?” Callen taunts.
I take a deep breath, appeasing my murderous instincts by imagining how satisfying it would be to punch him in the jaw.
“I hope the clothes will make you more comfortable,” Freddie says, putting an end to the conversation. He turns to glare at Callen. “Have you been behaving yourself while I’ve been gone?”
“I’m always on my best behaviour,” Callen replies. “Aren’t I, Rose?”
Yeah, fucking right. My cheeks heat. How can I still possibly find Callen attractive? My vagina has serious problems and needs therapy. From now on, I need my brain to act like a bodyguard. I’ll get a ‘No entry to pierced Scots’ sign tattooed down there if it’ll help.
