Chapter Twenty-Nine Lexie #2
Bringing my gaze back to Callum, I watch how he interacts with his mother.
The man is a giant—especially towering next to petite Tara in her wheelchair.
And yet, when he looks down at her, there’s something about his countenance that I’ve never seen in him before.
There’s a vulnerability as his shield softens in her presence.
He’s not a fixer, or a man in control of a situation—he’s just a son with his mom.
They’re discussing something, I can see how adamant Tara’s being on the subject.
I watch as Callum sighs, his shoulders falling like he’s confessing something.
Tara’s grin is both triumphant and knowing before she turns to continue down the buffet towards the salads.
Before Callum moves to follow after her, he turns, and his eyes find mine.
Holding his gaze, warmth blooms in my chest as his expression softens ever so slightly.
I feel like I’m looking at the real Callum—without any masks or his impenetrable control—for the first time.
Something worms its way into my heart—permanent and unforgettable.
The exchange only lasts a moment before he pulls his eyes away to follow his mom, but the feeling has branded itself into my memory.
When the pair returns to the table with Tara’s full plate, he’s back to being the unreadable Callum I know all too well.
After getting his mom situated at her place next to Gio, he reclaims his seat next to me and resumes eating his meal.
And as he cuts into his beef tenderloin, I’m left chewing the questions on the tip of my tongue and swallowing my curiosity.
Just one more hour.
It’s still early, but I’m ready to call it a night.
I usually love a good party. But, considering the only person I know here has been actively ignoring me to work the party at the insistence of his father, I’ve resigned myself to a stool at the bar while sipping a cosmopolitan.
I spent the first two and a half hours at Callum’s side, but I got tired of playing the silent observer.
Not to mention my feet are killing me in these new heels.
I know better than to wear them straight out of the box, but they were just too pretty to resist.
The only good part about following Callum around like a shadow was being able to listen to him talk to the Grassoses and his family openly. I’ve learned a lot about Callum’s past with the Mafia tonight.
Callum has worked with both families for a long time hiding their indiscretions.
The heads of both Outfits have met a few times to forge an arrangement that works for everyone.
Now it’s time to bring the families together to celebrate their alliance through the marriage of Lucciano Grassos and Chiara Manici.
Despite the happy occasion we’re all here celebrating, the vibes are less than cheerful as both sides mix like oil and water. Each family sticks to their own side of the terrace, eating and drinking, save the parents of the couple who mingle together tensely, followed closely by their enforcers.
Massimo Grassos, Lucciano’s younger brother, has been glancing at me a lot as he follows his father around like a bodyguard. I pretend not to notice and keep my smile polite.
As if my thoughts conjured him, the man himself appears at the bar beside me.
“It’s not a good look for our guests to go thirsty.” Massimo indicates the emptied cosmopolitan glass in front of me. He waves to the bartender. “Let’s get the lovely lady a fresh drink.”
“Thank you.” I accept the new glass and take a sip, holding his gaze boldly. He’s not subtle when he gives me an evaluating look, scanning me from head to toe. I’m not surprised when he gives my chest a second look.
“I can’t decide what I like more, this dress or your pink scrubs.
” What Massimo lacks in height, he makes up for in confidence and authority.
Looking at the Patek Philippe Grandmaster watch on his wrist and the air around him that screams untouchable, he’s someone important in Callum’s world.
It makes sense if his dad is the head of the New York syndicate.
“The scrubs are more comfortable, but things tend to get more violent when I’m wearing them.” He smiles, flashing a row of pearly white teeth that reminds me of a shark. Something about his toothy smile says predator.
“Sounds very thoughtful to me. We wouldn’t want our pretty nurse to feel left out.” It’s my turn to laugh.
“Oh yeah, very thoughtful. I would hate for my skills to go to waste.” It’s a joke, but something I say has Massimo’s eyes roaming over me again.
I feel like I’m being eyed by a wild animal, one that might snap at any moment—one wrong move and I’m dead.
So I stay still, forcing my body to remain calm and relaxed.
“Something tells me you have skills I need to see in action for myself.” Massimo’s demeanor shifts, and just like that—I know we’re not talking about my medical training anymore. Our flirtation has taken a turn, and now he’s propositioning me.
Alarm bells start going off in my head, and my instinct is to recoil. But rejecting him isn’t an option here. This man isn’t someone you say no to without losing something very important to you—like a hand or someone you love.
Shit, what do I say?
Taking a small sip of my drink, I casually glance around to give myself a second to think.
Maybe someone will come to my rescue. But the only eyes I seem to catch are Callum’s, and he’s glaring at me from across the terrace.
He looks pissed, for whatever reason, so he’ll be no help. I’m on my own here, I guess.
“Maybe someday you will,” I say vaguely. “But I’m sure a man like you is too good at what he does to need my skills.”
Massimo looks over his shoulder to make sure no one is paying attention before leaning closer. That one action tells me he’s the type of guy who fucks fat girls in private, but he’s ashamed to be seen with them in public. I don’t mess with shitty guys like that.
“Perhaps I’ll see you later for a private demonstration. I’ve always been good at handling large assets,” he says. Rafael beckons Massimo over from his seat at their table, so he flashes those pearly whites at me one last time before stepping away.
The breath of relief that leaves me once I’m alone again isn’t long-lived. I feel like I just survived a close encounter with a shark, but unfortunately I don’t get the chance to finish my drink before a dominating presence is over my shoulder.
“We’re leaving,” Callum asserts, making me look up at him in confusion.
“Aren’t you supposed to stay? What about your parents?”
“I have it handled. Let’s go.” There’s a commanding edge in his voice as he helps me down from the stool.
He’s pissed, his expression thunderous as he pulls me through the crowds inside and towards the elevator.
I pretend not to notice his mood, playing it cool when he drags me by the arm into our suite.
He’s lost his damn mind if he thinks he can get what he wants just by manhandling me.
If he wants something from me, he can talk about it like a normal person.
I stop just inside the door that’s slammed shut and dead-bolted behind us.
He’s right behind me, crowding me. His broad chest is practically pressing my back, and I can all but feel his eyes staring a hole through the top of my head. “Can I help you?” I ask, unbothered as I look through my purse for my lip balm.
“Massimo Grassos?” His deep voice is harsh, and quite intimidating. But not scary enough to rattle me. He can have this tantrum if he wants to, but that doesn’t make it my problem. “What the fuck was that?”
Finally, I find the small tube of lip balm I’m looking for; of course it was at the very bottom of my bag. Figures. “We were talking,” I reply calmly, leaning closer to the mirror. Swiping the balm across my lips, I blot them with the pad of my finger.
“That wasn’t talking,” he states.
“I was being friendly.” I press my lips closed and rub them together.
“He’s not your friend.”
“None of these people are my friends.” I brush off his comment with a shrug.
“He wants to fuck you.”
“What does that matter?”
“He doesn’t get to have you.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Because I don’t share.” His statement has me turning to face him. He’s got me cornered against the entryway table, and my chest is just a breath away from his torso. Damn my big boobs, I can’t breathe deeply without rubbing against him. He’d probably think it was an invitation—and he’d be right.
“I didn’t sleep with him, there’s no harm in flirting,” I say, looking up at him like my blood isn’t roaring in my ears.
“The hell there isn’t.” His deep voice is so low, I can feel it resonating in my chest. God, his voice is hot. But that doesn’t make his entitled ass any less annoying. He doesn’t get to stake his claim on me because he’s made me come a few times.
Fuck that.
“I have nothing to apologize for,” I respond to his silence. “The sex is good, and it might even happen again. But that’s all it is between us. Sex.”
I care about him, more than I ever thought I could.
He’s become my rock, a steadying constant in the whirlwind my life has turned into.
Callum doesn’t just watch, he pays attention.
He knows what dress size I wear, he makes sure I’ve eaten, that I drink enough water.
Callum sees me, he makes me a priority. He makes sure I’m catered to like no one has ever cared for me before.
With him, I never feel like I’m asking too much, or that I even have to ask at all.
He’s always there to give me exactly what I need the moment I realize I need it.
But he’s also a domineering, possessive ass who feels entitled to me.
That same attention that makes me feel cherished turns crushing in an instant.
And I refuse to give myself up to a man who can’t even tell me how he feels.
A man who can’t communicate outside of brutal acts born from his jealousy.
So unless there’s a drastic change in his choice of communication, my body is all he gets from me.
I take a small step to the side in an attempt to move around him, but he turns with me.
His arms go to the wall on either side of my head, and his massive frame is looming over me again as he cages me in—this time even closer.
His head lowers, asserting his dominance, but he doesn’t touch me.
He wants me to make the first move, to submit to him—like he knows I can.
“I’ve been staring at this damn dress all night, imagining every way I can get you out of it. I get so fucking hard just looking at you.” A wave of desire washes over me at the raw hunger in his voice. I hate how attracted I am to this dark, twisted, brilliant man.
“That sounds like a personal problem,” I say, doing my best to ignore the way my heart is racing and the heat is pooling between my thighs. And failing miserably.
“You are my personal problem, Dewdrop. One I know exactly how to fix.” Breathing in his cologne is like inhaling pheromones that cloud my mind until I’m dizzy.
Something shifts between us as our eyes lock, and I know what’s going to happen next.
My chin lifts as I lean in, and he pounces like a predator taking his prey.