Chapter Eighteen Lexie
“Why am I going tonight?” I ask, walking into the living room. I was surprised when Callum mentioned the party for New York’s elite, even more surprised when he extended an invitation. Or rather, demanded my attendance “Are you expecting trouble at the governor’s mansion?”
“I always expect trouble.” Callum turns at the sound of my voice, his eyes running over me from head to toe. Disapproval flashes across his face, making my stomach drop. He reaches for the jacket I discarded on the back of a kitchen stool after pulling it out of the closet.
“What are you planning on doing with that?” I can’t help but feel offended by his dirty look, the indignation coming out in my dry tone.
“It’s cold, and that dress barely covers you,” Callum states, like I’m not already aware.
“Are you saying I should change?” I challenge.
I’m way past covering my body when a man takes me out in public, no matter who he is.
The next words out of his mouth will tell me a lot about what kind of a man he is.
Callum’s eyes move over me, taking in every inch of my appearance—navy blue cocktail dress, strappy gold heels, gold mini bag.
“I’m saying you need to wear a coat.” The demanding edge in his tone grates on my nerves, making my defiance flare. The ever-in-control Callum asserts his dominance every chance he gets. But having him tell me what to do simply makes me want to do the opposite.
“I don’t need to do anything, Callum. But thanks for your concern.” Even if I was planning to wear a coat, there’s no way in hell I’m putting it on now.
“So fucking stubborn.” Jaw clenched, he stares me down, his gaze meant to intimidate me into submission. Instead, I remain unaffected just to spite him.
“You do know you can’t actually pierce me with your stares, right?” I deadpan as he peers down at me expectantly. Hazel eyes don’t falter as he waits, holding my coat open for arms that will not be cooperating. He can keep waiting.
“I’m sure if you could really cut me with that sharp wit of yours, I would’ve bled out a long time ago,” he replies evenly. The mask of calm is set firmly in place, but I can hear the tension in his voice. His annoyance only fuels my need to poke at him.
“Oh, you wouldn’t die. I’d stitch you up.” I offer him a smile that’s sugar and spice and everything nice, batting my eyelashes. “But only once you said please.”
Callum’s shoulders set in determination, and I don’t miss how his eyes run over me. The man is the definition of “tightly wound.” And I’d like nothing more than to tug at the strings of his resolve and watch him unravel.
“Lexie, the only begging that’s going to happen between us will have nothing to do with pain.” He leans closer. “Now put on your fucking coat.”
Liquid heat pools inside me, desire pulsing through my veins.
The air in the room thickens, the tension crackling between us like static electricity.
My breathing changes, I know he can see it.
Just like how I can see the raw hunger in his eyes.
But if he thinks that he can control me by simply turning me on, he’s got another thing coming.
Pulling my eyes away, I look down and make a show of adjusting my breasts in my dress. My cleavage is unbelievable with this neckline. I don’t have to draw attention to it to know he’s looking.
He’s always looking.
“I don’t want to ruin my outfit. But if you’re so bothered by the cold, you can wear it.” I flip my hair over my shoulder before I step past him, and the coat, with a saucy smile. “I’ll meet you in the car.”
When I step into the elevator Callum is right on my heels, my coat still in his hands.
Looks like he’s determined to bring the damn thing with us, probably to try and force me into it later.
Roscoe steps in after us. “Wow, you clean up nice, Roscoe,” I say, taking in his custom black suit.
“Very dapper, you’re giving James Bond a run for his money. ”
“I hate monkey suits.” He’s incapable of taking a compliment, but I can see the smile twitch on his lips. I’m slowly wearing him down. “You look nice, as always.”
“Thanks.” I beam at him, using the praise to disguise my triumph over the small victory. I’ll win him over yet. “I love any excuse to dress up.”
Something tells me tonight’s going to be very interesting.
Calling it the governor’s mansion isn’t an overstatement. Every intricate detail screams luxury born from old money. Stepping past the threshold feels like entering an alternate reality.
Everything about the atmosphere is too perfect to be real, the people more beautiful, the live music flawless, and the unnaturally white smiles too appeasing.
Everywhere you look polished people dressed in designer clothes float around and converse in dulcet tones.
The diamonds are real and no smaller than my fist, and Rolex is the most affordable timepiece adorning any man’s wrist.
I’m definitely not in Harlem anymore.
Following Callum’s lead, we move through the grand entryway into what can only be described as a ballroom.
Ornate cream walls hold decorative paneling and detailed crown molding gives the space a decadent feeling.
An impressive crystal chandelier hangs from the medallion in the center of the vaulted coffered ceiling, combining with the wall sconces to bathe the room in romantic light while the aggressively pretty people mingle around the room in clusters.
Uniformed waitstaff pass around trays of appetizers and flutes of champagne.
“Mr. Russo,” a man calls as he approaches, a woman by his side.
“Jack Stanza, CEO of Capitol Energy.” Callum leans down to murmur into my ear, giving me a cheat sheet. “Margot Primm, governor’s aide.”
“Welcome, so glad you could come.” Jack’s silver hair is quaffed with gel until it’s visibly stiff. Margot stands next to him poised with a sharp brown bob and a smile that doesn’t reach her dull brown eyes.
“I never miss one of the governor’s events when I’m in town,” Callum comments, his voice taking on a light tone that sounds foreign coming from his mouth. I glance up at him, surprised by the amiable expression on his face. I’ve never seen him look so friendly before, it’s intriguing.
“Peter Wilcox and I were just discussing those pony bets from last quarter. He was so sure that long shot was going to pay off,” Jack says, nodding to a tall, thin man standing not too far away. “I believe we both owe you quite a bit of money.”
“Oh, I remember,” Callum says easily with a laugh. Who is this carefree man beside me? “I always remember my wins; that’s the real reason I’m here. I came to collect before Wilcox tries to leave the country again.” Jack chuckles deeply at Callum’s joke, nodding largely.
“I don’t blame you; I wouldn’t trust us with our losses either.” Jack gestures towards the human string bean. “It’s time we paid the piper.”
“I’ll find you later,” Callum murmurs into my ear, meeting my eyes. I look up at him and nod casually. Turning to address the older gentleman he says, “Lead the way.”
I watch the two men walk away, leaving me with Margot. The governor’s aide is rail thin, with a haughty air about her that oozes judgment and condescension. Her black chiffon dress cost three figures, easy. “I love your dress. Is it Ralph Lauren?”
“Thank you, it’s Badgley Mischka.” Something about the way Margot accepts my compliment doesn’t feel anywhere as gracious as it should. Her eyes move over me in a way that makes my stomach knot. “Your dress is very bold of you. Such a brave choice, I applaud your confidence.”
The underhanded insult is more aggressive than passive, hidden only under a fake smile. My kind smile turns knowing, making a show of smoothing my hands down my waist and over my hips.
“Wow, that means a lot coming from someone like you.” I let my gaze move pointedly over her. “If you’ll excuse me.” With that, I’m walking past her, grabbing a flute of champagne off a tray as it passes.
I consider finding a quiet corner to hide from any more snotty comments about my body in this dress. But then a woman named Christine asks me where I get my nails done and I decide to mingle for a while instead. Every once in a while, I catch sight of Callum making his way around the room.
Even standing in a crowd of other important men dressed in expensive custom suits, Callum stands out. His size draws focus, standing a head above everyone around him. But it’s his dominating presence that makes it nearly impossible to look away.
Callum commands respect, knowing exactly how to engage with each person in order to get it. Watching him charm his way through a room is fascinating—a box jellyfish easily navigating deep sea waters. Deceptively elegant and captivating to distract from the potent deadliness of his sting.
When Callum smiles, his whole face transforms. The storm clouds dissipate, leaving nothing but clear skies over a sea of charm.
The edges of his angular, bearded face soften, any sign of danger melting into charisma.
But when I really look at him, I can tell there’s something missing—warmth, humor, enjoyment.
It’s a fake smile, a mask perfected with time to appeal to this intended audience.
A tool to disarm and engage. And it’s fucking working.
The people around him are falling for it hook, line, and sinker.
Meeting his eyes over Christine’s head, I offer him a very fake smile of my own. One equally as bright and full of sugary-sweet false promises. His eyes narrow slightly, and I know he can read exactly what I’m saying.
I see you, Callum. They don’t, but I do.