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I step out as soon as he stops and thank him quickly. His eyes go from me to Callan; luckily he doesn’t seem to recognise me. As soon as I’m free of the car, I look up the road and glare at Callan. He really is a psycho. I walk up the road towards him, but rather than acknowledge him, I walk right on by, ignoring his scoff. I’m barely past the bonnet when a spade of a hand scoops me up and pulls me back. “Didn’t peg you as a stalker. I’m not getting in the car with you!” I snap, throwing angry daggers over my shoulder at him.
“Now, now, is there any need to be so rude?” He grins, pushing me flush to the car, his hand spanning my waist and holding me still. I search his gaze. What does this man want? Why all the games? “Why leave the car if not to get in mine.”
“You would have followed me home.” I jut my chin at him, all the while wondering what it is that makes this man tick, the driving force behind his thoughts, his needs. Why is this man so alarmingly interesting?
“I would. So let’s quit the childish antics. Get in the car, Zara.” He steps back, pulls the door open and waits for me. I debate my options. Either way, he will follow me, whether he slowly crawls along beside me, drawing attention as I walk home, or chases my Uber. He will follow me. Grinding my teeth, I hop in and snatch the door, slamming it shut before he can close it. He eyes me heatedly through the glass, despite not being able to see me, before walking around the bonnet, his eyes fixed on mine. I keep my chin high and eyes forward when he gets in.
“That wasn’t necessary,” he growls. Maybe not, but it pissed him off and, in turn, satisfied me.
We sit in silence for the first half of the journey. I keep my face averted and studiously ignore the spicy scent of his aftershave. It’s different tonight, more sensual, and I start to wonder who he has worn it for. Gritting my teeth, I mentally shout at myself for caring and refused to notice how devilishly handsome he is with his black suit and open neck black shirt.
“So he left you again. I’m starting to lose a lot of respect for Mr Winters,” he says with a grimace.
“Oh, so you still had some after you beat him to a pulp?” I scoff, throwing him a scathing look. Callan smiles slowly. I scowl, not giving him any more satisfaction.
“I never laid a hand on Oscar.” He smiles darkly.
“You gave the order,” I spit. It’s the truth. I doubt his henchmen do anything without his go-ahead. I feel drained after today’s antics, and having to deal with Callan twice in one day is giving me a dull headache at the back of my skull. I rub the pain and stare out the window, waiting for him to pull up outside mine.
As soon as the engine cuts out, I push free from the car and walk quickly to my front door. Luckily, there are no paps, so they don’t witness the huge man stalking in behind me. I’m walking through the hall when I’m scooped up and held in his thick arms. My gasp is loud, and my hand snatches hold of his collar to keep me steady. Callan’s nostrils flare, and he stares at me for a moment before he begins to ascend the stairs.
“What are you doing?” I don't adjust my hold, but to stop my head from bobbing, I lay it against his bicep. I bite my lip and force myself not to look up at him. “I have a headache. I wanted a painkiller,” I say as he walks me into my room.
“Where are they?” He hasn’t broken a sweat at all. He lowers me to my bed and nods for me to get in. “I will bring you some painkillers. You’re probably dehydrated. Alcohol will do that to you,” he says gruffly.
“I don’t drink,” I admit, seeing his eyes flare slightly. He leans in, and I know he is trying to smell whether my breath proves me wrong and him right. I try not to laugh. He is absolutely the most peculiar and alluring man.
“Where are the tablets?”
“Down in the kitchen—first cupboard on the right,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to leave me. As soon as he does, I quickly undress and pull a clean set of nightwear on—another silk camisole set. I can’t bring myself to wear the nightdress after he so brazenly sniffed it. When Callan returns, I’m removing my makeup and don't look as defined as I did when he plucked me from the streets like a cheap whore. The thought makes my mouth sour. Is that what he thinks I am?
“I prefer you without all that shit on.” He is right behind me. My eyes flash at his backhanded compliment. I keep my face down and wash the remnants off before patting my face dry and moisturising. My en-suite is big, but with him in here, it morphs into a box.
“Shame then that it’s none of your business what I wear,” I quip. The glass clinks at my side, and Callan plants his free hands on either side of me, locking me in.
“Shame that you care what I think,” he says, low and rough. My eyes snap to him because his confession did make my stomach flip.
“Why are you here, Callan?” I ask, collecting up the tablets and taking a swig of water. He is watching me through the mirror like my personal conscience.
“Why have you got a headache?” His hand comes up and presses to my forehead. I am in no way admitting to him that I find him too much.
“I’m tired.” It’s as good as the truth.
“Yet you went out,” he comments. His chin slides over my shoulder. It’s rough, and the prickles make me shiver. His night-black eyes sparkle, and I square my shoulders to move him away.
“Am I under curfew?” My brow lifts high, and we contemplate each other for a moment.
“Not at all. I just thought you’d take better care of yourself.” He shifts and grips my hip, making me jump. “Bed,” he demands. I go stiff as a board and cross my arms over my chest.
“I’m not sleeping with you!” I scoff, storming past him and yanking the covers up. A deep laugh reverberates through my room.
“Like I said, I’m not done looking at you yet,” he growls, following me over and taking the quilt. He grips my ankles in one hand and swings my feet up so I’m laying down.
He leans down, his hand hitting the space on the mattress beneath my thighs,so close but not touching, and my eyes fly to his as his other hand is placed beside my head. He leans in closely so he is at my ear.
“I will keep looking at you as long as I like because you like it too, Zara.And,when the time comes, I will look over every inch of this body, taste it, touch it. Are you going to be ready for me, Zara?” His lips are on my earlobe, and I shudder, slamming my eyes shut. Am I ready for him? Am I ready to let this end?
He said once he has me that I will never see him again. It’s what I should want, but I know the second I cross that line with this man, I will be stuck over the line with no Callan in sight. I swallow thickly, pressing back into the pillow as his nose dances along my chin.
