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“No, I fucked you because I wanted to. It’s a bonus that it usually relaxes you,” he mutters. “Do you need another orgasm?” he queries, fiddling with the material of my dress.
“No, Callan, I do not need another orgasm. I need you to tell me what is going on?”
“Jesus, woman. I just did!” he shouts, making me jump. I look at the bar below, expecting heads to be turned our way, as his deep voice must have carried, but below, people go about their business unaware of the war raging above them.
Satisfied we weren't heard, I roll my head slowly and smirk at him.
“Now who isn't calm?”
“That's only because you’re irritating the fucking life out of me!” he roars. Wow! Any second now, the glass is going to shatter under the force of his timbre. I hold my hands up, sidestepping him to move back into the office. He is panting behind me, so I take myself to the sofa and sit down, doing my best to ignore him. I think it’s him who needs another orgasm.
“You’re going to burst a vein if you carry on,” I say after a few minutes, when he is still knocking things about and slamming drawers shut on his desk.
“Well, the only vein I want to burst doesn't want to be anywhere near your mouth because I have a good feeling you bite,” he snipes, yanking the drawer open again and yelling when it won't close. Rolling my eyes, I shift and face away from him, trying not to laugh. He is comical when he is all riled up, and despite his temper, he hasn't even tried to take it out on me physically. It's the complete clarity I need to know he would never physically hurt me. I anger him regularly, but I’m sure if a man spoke to him the way I do, he would knock them clean out.
“Yes, well, perhaps if you communicate with me better, your dick would get what it wants,” I mutter. The papers stop shuffling, and the keyboard remains quiet. I sneak a look over my shoulder to where Callan is watching me over his desk, practically vibrating with anger.
“Don’t mess with me, Zara. I will tan your arse so red, your lipstick will be fucking lighter,” he growls, pointing at my mouth. I pout for good measure, enjoying seeing his jaw clench.
“Fine, suck your own cock.” I give him the finger and slouch back in the seat, pulling my phone out and ignoring him for the next hour. The only time he gains my attention is when he begins to talk fluently in Chinese. I try not to show my surprise, but Callan’s eyes flick to me, catching me gaping at him. After a few more words, he cuts the call and stands.
“Let’s go.”
“You speak Chinese?”
“Mandarin,” he corrects me. Rolling my eyes, I lift my chin to make some smart retort, but he shuts me up by saying further, “and German, Russian, and Spanish.” So he did understand Katryna back in his office. He collects up his things without paying me any mind. I’m seriously impressed. Five languages.
“Why?”
“It gives me insight into certain business ventures. Not many people know, and it gives me an advantage.” He looks at me then, silently conveying to keep my mouth shut. I nod and stand, waiting for him to let us out.
“So we will be photographed?” I ask on my way down the corridor.
“You know, Zara, we could have had this conversation back in my office.”
“Well, we didn’t,” I snipe. He is right, but both of us are too hot-headed and stubborn.
“I’ve arranged for a photo to be taken. It will be backed up by those downstairs. Now, when asked, you can say it was for an event. Oscar’s birthday is coming up, maybe suggest it’s for him.” Oh, god, it is. I feel bad, as it completely slipped my mind.
“Right, okay.” I can’t believe I forgot Oscar’s birthday. I need to sort him a gift out. “So we get photographed, and then what?” I keep walking, and as I do, I recall searching for Callan online and coming up very short on information and of any photos. Not a single one.
“Wait.” I turn and stop, putting my hand on his chest. “You don't have photos. You’re practically a google ghost,” I tell him.
He smirks and leans into the wall.
“Was someone searching online for me?”
“You beat up my friend,” I remark. “I had no idea what Oscar was involved in with you, and I wanted to find out,” I defend.
“You wanted me.” He grins.
“Callan, please just work with me here. You don't have photos. Why?”
“Seeing my face doesn’t bring in more clients.”
“Erm, have you seen your face?” I laugh. Women would flock to Nexo, Hex, and Skyn. My god, they would flock to Skynifthey knew this man owned them all.
“Daily,” he smiles, and I roll my eyes skyward, “the anonymity of me is what draws people in. Plus, certain business aspects require anonymity,” he tells me. Of course they do if you're a criminal.
