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“I thought you wanted out? Why the panic?” Callan rubs at his big chest, and my eyes follow. I stall and look up at him and frown. It’s habit—a habit of having to rush to meet everyone’s demands, to keep myself busy. I give him a resolute look.
“Okay, I need my phone,” I mention, looking around for my bag.
“I’ll ask Edward. He had your things.” Callan removes his suit jacket and rolls his shirt up on each arm.
I nod and feel myself relax a little. I hit a mental brick wall last night, and I’m exhausted. I finally manage to look past the view that is Callan Scott and find the expanse of London’s skyline set out before I push up from the bed.
"Callan, this view is incredible." I slip past him, enjoying the feel of his hand brushing along my back. I’m naked—no doubt his doing. I pick up what looks like one of his t-shirts and pull it over my head, padding to the window and staring out, tugging the hem down. A palm flattens on the glass above me, then another presses to my stomach.
“I’ve recently found another view that has taken my fancy at the moment.” My heart stutters.At the moment,I remind myself. This is just a passing infatuation for him. I’m a novelty. It’s a good thing. I don’t want to tie myself to anyone. I need to keep all avenues open for when I fall off the edge of the world. I’ll be a mystery, the 'do you remember' person until I’m forgotten. Just like I want.
Clearing my throat, I try my hardest not to fixate on his reflection and concentrate on the view before me.
“Lucky view.”
“She certainly is.” His hand creeps down until he is cupping me. It’s hot between my thighs, and when he doesn’t move or pleasure me, I realise it’s an ownership of sorts—him holding me so brazenly in front of the world. My eyes lift and meet his in the clear glass, and his hand flexes.
“I had Edward make us some lunch,” he says suddenly, stepping away and putting distance between us. I turn, finding him already walking away out of his bedroom. I follow him down a hallway, past further bedrooms and a family bath, before we're in an opulent living area. It’s all very masculine: dark wood, dark furnishings. Fit for a sinful male. It’s a luxurious cave of dark decadence. I look around for someone else, this Edward? I don’t find anyone because we are alone. Two places are set at the breakfast bar, and Callan goes to the fridge and pulls two salads out. He pulls a loaf of fresh olive bread off the side and brings it over. He doesn't cut it nicely, but tears some off and bites into it with a wink at me. I smirk and drop my gaze as I pick at my meal. I don’t know why I am here or what is going on. Callan made it abundantly clear he doesn’t tolerate a woman past one night.
Greece was pretty intense. I enjoyed myself a lot with him. I’ve never given myself to someone like that or given anything to anyone else, but I don’t want to be caught up in something I can't get out of. It’s evident everything is at his pace, for his benefit. Never mind the consequences to others.
“Why am I here, Callan?” I bite the inside of my cheek. I’m forever asking him such questions.
“I want you here.” It’s as simple as that. He wants, he gets. “I told you, I like looking at you.” He pops another chunk of bread into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, his eyes holding me. I stare into their endless depths in the hope something will come forward and offer me an insight into this man.
I hum around my fork, refusing to meet his gaze again. He has the ability to read the most robotic of people.“And how long do you plan on this phase lasting?” I say softly, keeping my face neutral. I don't want him privy to all my thoughts and feelings.
“You’re not getting attached already, are you?” He seems playful, but there is a keen stare in his eyes that suggests a more severe emotion below the surface.
“On the contrary, I’m eager to get back to my idea, or normal.” I stab an olive and shove it into my mouth. I bring my head up and finally show him how serious I am. I’m done with him plucking me up from wherever I am.
The skin around his eyes tightens ever so slightly, and if I weren’t looking, I would never have noticed it.
“You don’t like normal. You want to disappear,” he reminds me coldly. I’ve annoyed him. Good.
“That’s right, I do, and you’ve made it clear you’re not interested in assisting me with that, so I want to know how much ofmytime you require before I can start making it happen myself,” I punctuate slowly.
“You’re hiding something,” he states.
“Aren’t we all?” I scoff.
“I’m an open book.” He holds out his arms, and my sarcastic laugh surprises us both.
“More like a notebook with nothing inside.” I jab my fork forcefully into some chicken and fill my mouth to avoid any further words coming out.
“I gave you plenty of signals to read the other night.” He prods lazily at his own food, less aggravated by our conversation than I am. Yes, I learnt he likes sex. A lot.
“This apartment probably set you back a cool fifteen million plus,” I say confidently, and he raises his brow, enjoying my irritation. “There is no way, no matter how exclusive your clubs are, that you bring in that kind of revenue to be slumming it in a place like this.” I stab my fork again, imagining it’s his arm. God, he is so infuriatingly calm.
“And?”
“You’re dirty.” I shrug. “Why else would I ask you to make me disappear,” I tell him, forking up another mouthful, hoping he fills the silence.
“You should count yourself lucky that I took enough interest in you to give you the opportunity to ask such a thing,” he tells me. His tone is colder than before, and I try to remind myself to play this safe. Callan isn't the kind of person you piss off, but his arrogance has my annoyance three sixty-ing into anger.
My fork hits the surface with a loud clatter.
“My god,” I laugh before looking at him with false gratitude, “thank you.” I slap my hand to my chest. “Thank you for fucking me. How can I ever repay you?” I push my plate away and hop down. What a prick!
