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Calvin proves an unlikely savior, stepping in when Officer Davis is waiting for me to offer up DNA evidence to help them catch their guy and telling him I’ve had a very rough night and he thinks I’ve been through enough today. Playing the concerned, supportive boyfriend, he pretends to check with me. I nod my agreement because I just want the cops to leave.
As he’s walking the officer out, I overhear Calvin telling him that any DNA evidence there might have been is likely gone now, and that I don’t wish to deal with that very private experience legally. Officer Davis advises against that, telling him we can always decide not to file charges, but if we change our minds later and want to, this is the only time to collect the evidence. Of course, Calvin is immovable on the matter.
I’m sitting alone at the table when he walks back in. A soft blanket is wrapped around me like a cocoon, but it can’t protect me from the icky grime of what I just overheard.
Calvin stops by the table and gazes down at me. “Are you all right?”
His tone is cool and detached though his words express polite concern. It doesn’t feel fake like his performance in front of the cops, more a routine question he reminds himself to ask me. I don’t think he’s accustomed to checking on the wellbeing of others.
“I guess,” I answer, because honestly I’m not sure how I feel. “You realize you implied to the cop just now that I was raped last night after I was hauled out of that alley?”
The expression on his face doesn’t change, but he reaches a hand toward me and casually caresses my cheek. “Weren’t you?”
My jaw falls open as I stare up at him, appalled at how casually he says that.
He drops his hand and walks around the counter. “I don’t typically have a prepared breakfast, so I don’t have Chef Ryan coming today, but going forward I can ask that he stop over and prepare us breakfast if you’d like. I can even have him prepare lunches for you like he did at your place so you don’t have to worry about that and you can focus on your work or Marie or whatever else you’d rather spend your time on.”
“How can you just… say that so flippantly?”
He looks back at me, a frown creasing his brow. “Scheduling Chef Ryan isn’t a big deal, Hallie. It only makes sense to outsource tasks like that so you can spend your time on more important things. You don’t see me working the mail room at my company, do you? Of course not. That would be a waste of my talents.”
“Not that.” I shake my head, marveling at how he could possibly not know what I was referring to. He just casually mentioned raping me last night, and the man thinks I’m in awe about him hiring a chef to make breakfast?
His confusion is so sincere, though, I decide not to bother along that tack. It’s odd, buthe’sodd, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. “All right. Full disclosure, Chef Ryan probably thinks I’m a ho now. He overheard me talking to Charity about the date she was fixing me up on and I was all, ‘I’m totally not his girlfriend,’ but now that I’m your captive or whatever, he’s just… he’s not going to believe me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he states.
“You don’t care if he thinks your girlfriend is a trifling ho-bag and you’re being made a fool of?”
“No,” he says simply. “Unless there’s a reason to, perhaps a business merger or something of that nature, I never concern myself with what other people think of me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t care,” he answers simply. Opening the refrigerator, he takes out a pitcher and grabs a spotless glass from the cupboard. “Hollis is on his way to keep an eye on you today. It won’t always be like that, but this is obviously new and I can’t trust you yet.”
I think it’s funny thathe’sthe one who thinks he can’t trustme.
He places the crystal glass of orange juice down in front of me. As a matter of habit, I thank him.
I feel a pinch of annoyance immediately after the fact, but it’s not as if I can reel the words back in.
He smiles faintly without looking at me as he grabs a second glass and pours a glass for himself. It’s not nearly as full as mine. It’s as if he’s used to pouring alcohol, so he measures it out the same way. “So polite.”
“Yes, well, some of us are taught to have manners.” It’s a stupid snipe, but I’m mad at him about so many things and I just want to lash out aboutsomething.
He deflects my blow easily, turning back to look at me as he takes a slow sip of orange juice. “I know. That’s why you’re so easy to take advantage of.”
My spine stiffens at the barbed comment and my chest seems to contract the tiniest bit.
Before I can summon a response, Calvin says, “Let’s not do this, hm? We can jab at each other all day, but I’ll win, and that certainly won’t endear me to you.”
“You think anything can at this point?” I ask in mild disbelief.
“I do.”
I shake my head. “You’re insane.”
“Perhaps.” He doesn’t seem all that concerned as he throws back the juice like it’s whiskey, then sets the empty glass on the counter. He turns his wrist just slightly and checks his watch. “I have to leave now, unfortunately. I’ll be home for dinner.” Looking back at me with a knowing smile, he adds, “Try not to miss me too much.”
