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Venus: the goddess of love, beauty, prosperity, fertility, and victory.
He’s said it a few times now and I’ve chosen to ignore it, but the questions keep mounting the more time I spend with him. Callum Jameson is an enigma of a man, and the reputation that precedes him isn’t matching up with the thoughtful and affectionate male who seems hell-bent on spending time with me.
Is that how he sees me? But more importantly, do I want him to?
“Venus?” I ask with an arched brow, trying to calm my racing heart down. How can he unnerve me so easily? My emotions are all over the place: confusion, to happiness, to unnerved, to this attraction that’s palpable and dangerous. “Or is that what you call all—”
“Don’t.” Callum’s tone is harsh, and I try to step away but he grips my hip before I can. My eyes dart around toward Chef Reyes, but he’s nowhere to be seen and I find myself a little nervous. Would he hurt me? “I’d shoot myself before I ever laid an angry hand on you.”
“What?” It leaves me on a shaky whisper and I lick my lips, but that soon turns into a low moan. His hand on my hip is squeezing gently and pulling me a little closer while the other cups my cheek softly, almost reverently, and I rub my face against his palm. This is instinctual. Everything about the way I am with him feels that way: effortless. “What is all this?”
“A man spoiling his goddess. Simple as.” Lowering his face, Callum tilts my chin up and brushes his lips across my mouth. Once. Twice. Then he bites down on the plump flesh of my bottom one before pulling back. “Can I do that, beautiful? Can I indulge you while cooking some good food and hopefully getting you a little drunk?”
I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out at that. Cheeky bastard. “I’m not a lightweight, I’ll have you know. I’m really good friends with tequila, vodka, and rum.”
“So, what you’re saying is you’re a lush, love?” He’s fighting a smirk, and I have the sudden urge to flick his forehead. “That I’ll need to lock my liquor cabinet in the future?”
“Who says I’ll go anywhere near your cabinet?”
“You will.” With one small peck to my lips, he guides me toward the large open kitchen where an island with two high-back barstools awaits us. Callum pulls one out for me to sit, and when I do, comfortably leaning back, he places his mouth against my ear. Each exhale is warm. The feeling of him against me is divine. “I call you my Venus because I’ve never seen such an honest beauty before, Miss Rubens. You’re a little treasure. The literal definition of femininity and grace; what a man needs to conquer his demons.”
His explanation brings goose bumps to my skin, a feverish shiver that flows through every limb while my heart gives a harsh thump inside my chest. Those words. Christ, he’ll never know how much they mean to me. “Callum, I—”
“Shhh.” I’m silenced by his thumb on my lips. “Let’s shelve that conversation for later. For now, let’s cook, eat, and enjoy the day out here. Nod if you agree.” When I do as he asks, he moves back and then takes a seat next to mine. There’s a bottle of white wine there that’s chilled along with a small selection of covered tapas. “Thirsty?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.” He pours me a glass first, sliding it closer, and waits for my approval. It’s light and crisp, the fruity hint of apricots and lemon simply delicious. “Do you like this one? Or would you prefer something a little bolder?”
“Bolder is best saved for the after. Don’t you think?”
“As you wish.” Pouring himself a glass, he takes a few sips before setting it down and then uncovering the plates in front of us. There’s one with what looks to be Manchego cheese and serrano ham with a few olives, the other has small meatballs, and the last is something called patatas brava, which I love. The potatoes are cut in cubes, fried, and then covered in a spicy cream sauce that I’ve tried to replicate but just can’t ever get right. “Please, dig in. We’ll be starting prep work here in the next thirty minutes or so.”
“You’re going to cut vegetables and proteins?”
Callum shrugs. “I told you before, I’m responsible for a lot of my meals.”
“You seriously cook?”
“I do.” Picking up a piece of bread, he sops up a bit of the ragu with the meatballs and pops it into his mouth. “My favorite’s Indian food. I’ve got a mate I went to school with, and his family is from Jaipur. His mum taught me a few dishes, and I’m quite good; I can even make my own naan bread.”
“Impressive.” There are small plates in front of us and I grab two, sliding one over to him. “Fill yours, and let’s sit outside. That view is spectacular, and I’m interested in hearing more about this cooking of yours. I’m a sucker for a well-made butter chicken or biryani.”
“I’m going to enjoy spoiling you, sweet girl.”
“You better.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Idiotic. Irresponsible.
Because this, whatever we are, can’t go past today. Not when I’m being forced to put my safety in danger and steal for my father’s gain. Not when my family would never accept this.
They’d rather see me miserable than in the protective arms of a man that will destroy them.
They need me to be compliant and not untouchable. Dad will go back on his word and hurt my brothers.
I know my expression changed after that, but I’m glad Callum doesn’t question it. He simply presses a button I hadn’t noticed atop the counter and two women dressed in all black, like you see at restaurants, come over and take our food outside. They disappear just as fast as they appear, not that I have time to complain as I’m being picked up and carried outside only to be situated on his lap after the slick bastard settles in a chair.
“Eat, Aliana.”
“Say please.” My voice is low but he hears, and a chuckle meets my ears a few seconds later.
