Axel Wulf: A Romance Crime Action Thriller

Chapter 3

Calliope

My foot’s numb when I pull it out from under me and glance at my cell phone. Damn. This must be the call I’ve been waiting for. I was hoping Patten would forget and I could ask Bert to bring me to mother’s ball. True, he’s getting on in age but he’s such a nice old gent. Not only that, he’s guarded me for years. I don’t see why we have to change just because someone broke into my apartment. The thief can’t be too intelligent or he’d have known my earrings were at the bank.

I rotate my ankle for a bit, slide out from under my professor’s desk, and put some weight onto my leg. Reminiscent of Twin Towers, two piles of physics papers loom in front of me. Even though I’ve been grading for hours, I’m still only a third of the way done.

Great. Now, I need to stop and talk to some muscled meathead. I should’ve held my ground and told my mother, absolutely no bodyguards.

Heaving a deep sigh, I swipe the screen, my phone stops chirping, and I bring it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Miss Bradford-Clarke?”

“Yes. That’s me.”

“This is Sir Lochlan James, your security for tomorrow evening. If you have the time, I’d like to set up a meeting.” His upper-crust British accent catches me off guard, as does the title, and the low, sexy, voice.

What is my mother is up to?

“Sir James. Are you really a knight?”

“Honorary, miss.” He came to the call prepared because an image of a coat of arms along with an official document lands in my incoming messages.

“Is that acceptable, miss?” I think I hear him chuckle but can’t be sure.

Okay, that was embarrassing.“Ah… yes, sorry, absolutely.”

“Right, then. Let’s get down to business. I’ve seen the police report and have one question, if you wouldn’t mind. Do you, or have you ever, kept the earrings in your home safe?”

“Funny you should ask. Last time I wore them, I thought a ruby was loose so I had a jeweler check. God forbid I should lose an irreplaceable stone. Can you imagine New England’s wealthiest on hands and knees?”

A shudder wracks through my body but his warm laughter soothes away the image. “A disaster of epic proportions.”

“You have no idea. I hate wearing them. I stand near a mirror the whole night to make sure they’re safe and count off the minutes until they’re back in the bank.”

“I bet. Who, besides you, knew you took them to the jeweler?”

“Any number of people, I suppose. The bank employees, my mother, and maybe she told a couple friends. Why?”

“Just checking, luv. Now, when should I pick you up?”

“Tomorrow, around noon. I’ll text you my address.”

“That works. And miss, please don’t tell anyone our schedule, especially your mother.”

“You’re serious?” I laugh, thinking of the fanfare Bert always made of our yearly trip.

“Serious as a heart attack. People have killed for a whole lot less than a hundred million dollars and it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“I’ve been wearing these earrings at this party for over fifteen years and nothing bad has ever happened.”

“You’ve been lucky.”

Best to change the subject. “I assume my mother gave you the costume?”

“Excuse me?”

Oh, this will be fun. “The earrings are sixteenth century. You, as my date, will wear a costume which my mother will provide.”

The other side of the phone goes silent for almost sixty seconds. Perhaps he’s researching online. If he does, he’ll find Bert decked out in pantaloons, tights, and a codpiece.

It’s been quiet so long, I think he’s hung up but then, his low, sexy accent comes back on the line. “I will be adequately attired. G’day, Ms. Bradford-Clarke.”

“Callie.”

“Callie, it is. Until later.”

Unsettled, my mind wanders. Will his face match his accent? Is he old, young? Blond, dark? He’d have to be strong, how else could he be a bodyguard?

Because I can’t stop imagining him, grading takes much longer than it should and when I check the time. I’ve missed both lunch and dinner.

With a deep breath, I exit the building, ready for a glass of wine and a meal at my favorite haunt.

You got to be kidding me.

My mother’s Rolls Royce stops me in my tracks. Across the street, Johnathan, jumps out from behind the wheel, catches my eye, and opens the back door. Inside, I picture the devil incarnate. She’ll be sitting primly, eyes glued ahead, hands folded in her lap

While I wait for the light to turn, I consider possible excuses. Migraine? Stomach ache? Maybe, I should jump in front of that bike courier.

Crap. Too tired to think, I cross the street, go on my toes, and whisper into the chauffeur’s ear. “How is she today?”

I almost can’t catch his quiet response. “A four miss, maybe even a three.”

My heart sinks. Hungry and cross, I’m not up for one of my mother’s moods.

When I scoot in next to her, she glances up from The Globe. Without a word, she folds the newspaper into small rectangles and slides it into a protective sheet of plastic. Then, she checks for print stains. Once convinced her white angora sweater and matching wool pants are pristine, the queen acknowledges my presence.

Her sour expression gets even more so at my choice of black leggings, knee-high boots, and plain wool maxicoat.

Before she can begin a long, drawn-out lecture, I glance at my phone, and pretend to read a schedule. “I’m sorry you drove all the way here but you should’ve called. I have a makeup class to give in a few minutes.”

I don’t feel the least bit guilty as I tap Johnathan on the shoulder. “Can you drop me off at the physics building?”

“Certainly, Miss Calliope.”

My mother glares and her mouth purses, no doubt adding this to my long list of failings. When she sighs, I wonder how lips can show so much disapproval with all that Botox. “Can I take you to dinner after?”

“Sorry Mom, I have more papers to grade.” Yeah, it’s another lie. Hopefully, God will understand. He has to know I’d rather be beheaded by a dull sword than endure several hours of her harping. At least that would be less painful.

“Did you get a call from Grayson?” My mother is on a first name basis with the billionaire? Figures.

Outside, Boston traffic slows and I curse under my breath. “Yes, or rather his employee, Sir James called me. He sounded British, nice enough.”

Get real, Callie. He sounded sexy and dangerous, not at all nice.

My mother nods all-knowingly. “I insisted on his best. Sir James is former MI-6. Knighted for valor, you know.”

I almost ask how a knight happened to choose a bodyguard career but it’s best to let it go. If she’s happy, I’m happy.

“Thursday, I have a massage, hair dresser, and makeup scheduled. You will get the earrings and arrive, on time with this Sir James.”

I roll my eyes. “I can’t possibly spend the whole day preening. You know I’m working on my thesis.”

“Ah yes, your little microwaves project.” Her perfectly sculptured brows would raise but recent injections make it impossible.

“EMF waves.”

Dear God, you parted the Red Sea, certainly Boston traffic is no big deal. I guess The Almighty is busy because the Rolls stops and my mother sniffs down her nose. “Your studies can wait for a day. I’ll call the dean if–”

“No mother, please don’t.” The last time she called, I got reamed out by Dr. Liam, the friggin’ president of all MIT.

Like the Eveready Bunny, my mom just keeps going and going. “…my party. The most eligible bachelors on the East Coast will be there. I even got Thomas Kale from Seattle to attend.”

Oh my God, I’ve landed in a Victorian romance novel.“Please, mother, tell me you didn’t.”

“You need my help, dear. Whether you like it or not, you’re an heiress and not getting any younger.”

Whaaa? I just turned twenty-seven. Shit. Here we go again. As in ‘The Exorcist,’ my head circles on my neck because I am not having this conversation again.

“…and after age thirty, chances of having a baby with birth defects goes up exponentially each year…”

Other than one horrible night with Gerry, I haven’t had sex in two years and frankly, without a husband in sight, I don’t see children in my near future.

When my mother takes a breath, I clearly enunciate so there’s no chance she’ll misunderstand me. “I am not going to date until I finish my doctorate.”

“Ridiculous. It could take years.”

My jaw drops at her blatant lack of faith but before I can open my mouth, she starts up again. “Oh, for goodness sakes, don’t give me that forlorn face. Everyone knows microwaves are dangerous. It says so on the outside of the oven. You’re just wasting your time and my money.”

“EMF, mother, not microwaves. Electromagnetic frequencies.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot, dear. Microwaves are EMF.”

Shit. Why do I bother? I suspect she’s quite aware of my studies and this is just another one of her ways to belittle my work. With God as my witness, as soon as I finish my degree, I’ll choose the job offer furthest from Boston.

Biting my tongue, I glare at the snowflakes growing larger. “Are you going to cancel if it snows?”

“Bah. This is just a dusting. The real storm won’t hit until the party’s over. Now, I can tell by the faces you’re making, you find my tactics distasteful. Just so you know, I’m not thoughtless. I’ve invited several brilliant minds to the party. Yuri Romanoff attended Harvard and has expressed some interest in you. Of course, Gerard will be there, as well as several others whose families have purchased tickets. I do expect you to be polite and for heaven’s sake, please don’t talk shop. You’ll never win a husband if he thinks you’re smarter than him.”

It’s mean-spirited, but I can’t help but throw in a dig. “Is that what happened between you and Dad?”

“Don’t be foolish. We get along just fine. He enjoys his time in Europe and I enjoy him being there. In fact, he’s promised to play again this year.”

I mutter under my breath as the limo comes to a stop in front of my nonexistent class. At least, other than me, there’ll be one other form of entertainment.

I wait for mother’s chauffeur to open the door and he gives me a sad smile. “Have a nice evening, Ms. Calliope.”

“Thank you, Johnathan, for everything. Give your sweet baby a kiss for me.” I hand him a hundred-dollar-bill.

He needs it more than me. I’ll survive on ramen for a few days until I get my paycheck. With a smile, he shuts the door, adjusts the rearview mirror, and drives away. For the longest time I stare at red taillights and make myself the same promise I do every time I see her.

I will not let my mother get to me.

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