21. Callie
Callie
I come to with a groan. Sharp stabbing pain in my head feels like someone is trying to dig my eyeball out with a pickaxe. I roll over just in time to throw up over the side of the bed I’m lying on. Struggling to open my eyes, I wince when the bright light blinds me. I snap them shut, then take a deep breath in and out, and repeat it over and over until the surge of nausea passes.
This time, I open my eyes slowly, letting in the light little by little. Turning my head gently, I take in my surroundings, realizing belatedly that I have no godly idea where I am. The room is white: the walls, the lacy bedding I’m lying upon, as well as the blinds that are at the windows. Even the furniture is white, from the bedframe to the dresser on the far wall.
How the hell did I get here? Where the fuck even is here?
Then the hazy images flashing through my mind become clear as the fog begins to lift like a veil. The hospital. The woman at the hospital who was not my mother. And finally, Christian fucking Baylor jabbing me in the neck with something.
I hear the click of a lock being turned so I snap my eyes shut once more. The knowledge that Christian took me and brought me here, locking me inside, threatens to make my heart beat right out of my chest. I can’t play possum and pretend I’m asleep forever, but I need to do something to buy myself some time for Blake to find me.
If there is one thing I’m sure of, it’s that Blake won’t stop looking for me until I’m back in his arms.
“Callie, Callie, Callie.” Christian’s voice calls my name in a mocking, singsong tone that straight up makes me feel like I’m in a horror movie, and I want to curl up into a ball and cry.
Cracking my eyes open, I mimic my actions from earlier and groan, throwing in a few dry heaves for good measure before focusing on Christian and another man standing beside him.
Christian is impeccably dressed as always in his dark expensive suit and matching tie, looking like he just left the office instead of the hospital where he kidnapped someone. His salt and pepper hair is slicked back, not a strand out of place, his imposing frame coiled tight, ready to pounce.
The other guy is dressed in a suit too, but you can tell it’s not the same caliber as Christian’s. He’s younger than him, but not by much—late thirties, early forties maybe—the strands of gray only just beginning to lighten his dark hair. He appears less put together and less confident. The look of resignation on his features makes Christian’s stare feel more malevolent.
“Where am I?” I whisper.
“Beside me, exactly where you’re supposed to be,” Christian spits out as the other guy grabs my wrist, holding it tight as I struggle.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s checking my pulse.
“It’s a little fast,” he tells Christian before letting go.
Of course it’s fast. I’m scared out of my freaking mind.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath, psyching myself up for what I’m about to do. I’ve never been a very good actress, and now I find myself about to play the role of a lifetime.
“Who are you? Where am I?” I ask Christian, having zero difficulty making a few tears slip free.
Christian’s scowl slips, his face now wearing a confused frown as he looks at the guy next to me. “John?”
“Callie, what’s the last thing you remember?” John asks me, his voice soft and cajoling.
I close my eyes and pretend to think really hard, wincing as the throbbing in my head grows in intensity.
“I don’t know. I…” Shit, how far back to go? At this point, I doubt it matters. He’ll either buy it or he won’t. But if I can pretend I don’t remember him at all, he might be able to hold off on being a dick long enough for me to find a way out of here.
“I was on my way home from work…?” I end in a question to show how unsure I am.
“And where do you work, Callie?” he asks me, stepping closer to the bed. I have to fight the urge to move away.
“I just started at Barney’s as a waitress.”
This was true once upon a time, but it feels like a lifetime ago now.
“Callie, what year is it?” Christian finally asks, placing his hand on my shoulder like an anchor weighing me down.
Don’t flinch. Don’t flinch. Don’t you fucking flinch, Callie.
I repeat the words in my head, biting down on the inside of my cheek as I fight to keep the revulsion from my features.
“It’s 2017,” I tell him, going for broke. I hold back my sigh of relief when a look of glee fills his face.
Bingo, got you, you son of a bitch.
“What? What’s happening?” I play up my part, letting him see how confused and scared I am.
And the Oscar goes to…
I might have missed my calling after all. They turn and walk away from me, muttering to themselves, but I can hear them just fine. I don’t know if this is some kind of test, whether they are waiting for me to react to their words, so I play dumb and keep quiet.
“Is it the drugs?” Christian asks quietly.
“It’s possible. People often react badly to this stuff, although I’ve never seen a case of amnesia linked to them before. You said she was bleeding from a head wound when you found her?”
Christian is quiet for a moment while I send up a thanks to the assholes who hit our car that resulted in my head meeting the dashboard.
“The guys must have hit her car harder than necessary.” His voice sounds angry now.
So those assholes were working for Christian. Shit, we played right into their hands. I hope Kellen’s okay.
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on? Where am I, and who are you both?” I question them, folding my shaking hands together in my lap.
“John here is my family doctor. You… tripped and fell down the stairs,” the dirty lying bastard tells me.
“Oh my god, really?” I squeal, making him look at me suspiciously. Okay, less is more, Callie . “Shouldn’t I be in a hospital?” I ask, confused, reaching up to touch the lump on my forehead.
“You’ve already been and were released. You don’t remember?” he answers with a calculated look in his eye.
Asshole motherfucker . I can’t contradict him without exposing my hand, and he knows it.
I shake my head and wince again, not needing to fake how much that hurts.
“You need rest. You’ll feel better in a few days, and then your memories should start to come back. Head injuries can be tricky,” John adds quietly.
“Oh, don’t worry, she’ll get plenty of rest. We’re getting married in a few days. She needs to be better by then,” Christian tells him, but his eyes are on mine.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please let Blake find me before then.
“We’re engaged?” I let my face show shock, mostly to hide that I’m two seconds away from puking all over him.
“Yes, dear, happily so,” he lies to my face, looking like a cat that caught a canary. “Rest. I’ll send Mary in to change these sheets and clean up. Let her know if you’re hungry, and she’ll have the cook make something for you.”
I think his words are meant to calm me. His tone, though, is as cold as ice, making that impossible. He turns to leave, taking John with him, pulling the door closed behind them both. I hear the lock engage, then soft-spoken words they either don’t think I can hear or they just don’t care.
“You really think she can’t remember anything?” Christian’s voice asks tightly.
“She seems pretty convincing to me,” John replies before adding, “but if she truly has lost her memory, you better prepare for a fight when it comes back.”
“It matters not to me. She’ll be my wife, and she’ll do whatever the fuck I tell her to or face the consequences.” Christian’s voice grows quieter as they walk away.
I jump out of bed, swaying on my feet for a minute before rushing to the windows.
Locked, all of them . The thought crosses my mind to smash my way out, but if the windows are alarmed, Christian will be back here before I’ve even made it onto the balcony. Then my little game of amnesia will have been for nothing. I try not to give in to the panic coursing through me, needing to focus on the task at hand. My head swims, and the tears flow freely down my face, but I don’t let that stop me from searching the room for something I can use as a weapon. Anything will do at this point.
Waiting for Blake to rescue me isn’t an option. I need to find a way out of here because I’d rather die than become Christian’s latest plaything.