Chapter 13 #2
Brielle hated that she made sense. But if she did go along with Callum, it might stave off the FBI and her father until she could leave the country.
“Okay fine. I’ll cut Callum some slack if you return the favor.
He can keep his cover as long as you don’t bring me in.
But it is in appearance only. I don’t want to talk to him, and I’m definitely not staying with him. ”
“Fair enough,” Leslie said, pulling her shades back over her eyes. “We’ll work with you if you work with us. I know there is a formal event this weekend at the Vitalie compound. It would be in both of your best interests if he accompanies you.”
“You can’t be serious,” Brielle said. “What do you expect me to do? Make nice with him all night? I have sponsors to schmooze and press to talk to. I can’t be babysitting him.”
“Actually, he’ll be babysitting you. So I’ll tell him it’s a date.”
There was sarcasm in Leslie’s voice that irked her. But to call it out would require more questions and Brielle was tired of chatting.
“So, should Callum pick you up or will your fiancé be accompanying you?”
“Tell Callum to pick us up at seven,” Brielle said before heading back toward the locker room.
Leslie didn’t deserve elaboration.
Callum sped into Brielle’s carport, congratulating himself for his new, land-speed record. Sliding up the sleeve of his tux, he triumphantly checked his watch with his phone. They both agreed. Seven on the nose. He beat his old best time from his house to hers by almost two minutes.
He stepped out of the BMW and walked around it, patting the hood on his way.
His heart echoed in his ears, the way it used to when he idled at the pole position seconds before a race.
This was his chance to prove himself. To somehow maneuver through danger and peril and make it to the finish line the winner.
The key was being objective. He strode up the walk trying to decide if he should knock, or just use his key like a personal bodyguard would.
He compromised on the knocking-stroll-on-in combination and headed straight for the living room bar.
Geoffrey was already there replenishing the olives in his martini. He was in a traditional black tux, and wearing an impenetrable layer of spicy aftershave. Mercifully, the embroidered “G” had been omitted.
“What’s up Geoff? You ready to party or what?” Callum reached around him for the bourbon on the shelf. He got no response, but the scowl on Geoffrey’s leathery face told him loads. The guy had no sense of humor.
“So Geoff, you must be very excited about tomorrow’s match.”
“I am,” he said over the rim of his glass. “Not only is Brielle playing again, but as of midnight tonight I will be the new, proud owner of the whole Vitalie compound. I stand to make a pretty good amount of money this weekend.”
“Really.” Callum knocked that around his brain, honestly surprised at how forthcoming he was.
“You know, I remember Brielle said you were interested in the joint. You must have made good money off Nila these past months to afford it.” He picked a few peanuts from the bowl and flipped them in his mouth.
Geoffrey wasn’t the only one who could push buttons.
“How I paid for it is none of your business. But I assure you, the transaction does nothing but good for Brielle. After she retires, she’ll have a stable full of younger girls to inspire.”
“And for you to exploit. How convenient.”
“Geoffrey, you forgot your cufflinks.”
Callum turned to see Brielle standing in front of him.
She wore a short white strapless dress, with a beaded bodice that reflected the light like twinkling stars.
It was short, a good couple inches above the knee and wonderfully tight in all the right places.
He stared at the beautiful curve of her long, toned legs, and her perfect pale breasts peeking over the fabric.
“Geoffrey, go back to your bedroom and find them. You can’t go without them.”
“You’re right, darling.” Geoffrey set his drink down, then moved from behind the bar. “I’ll be right back.”
Callum barely heard the exchange, too mesmerized by the vision in front of him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Brielle quipped, putting in her diamond earrings.
“You look beautiful,” he finally said. He was surprised he managed that.
She checked her upswept hair in the mirror over his shoulder. “I thought you preferred my hair down?”
“Yeah, and that’s the only reason your dress is still on.” Again, he looked her over, his wide eyes lingering at her cleavage. “Damn, and you worry about me carrying concealed weapons.”
“You’re disgusting. I’m almost afraid to ask you to finish zipping me up.”
“Turn around,” he said, motioning with his finger.
Standing in front of him like she was, she was a full-on assault to every one of his senses.
His feasting eyes followed the line of her shoulders to the nape of her neck, where he now knew it made her crazy when he kissed her there.
The familiar, sweet scent of vanilla tickled his nose, mingling with the musky punch of her old school Chanel Number Five.
His fingers lingered on the zipper, slowly, painfully, pulling it up. “All set,” he said, relieved to be stepping away. He went back behind the bar and poured himself another shot. “You going to save me a dance tonight?”
“Yeah, right, you’re lucky you got an invite.” She sat down to fasten the buckles on her shoes. After a close inspection, she stood back up with a snap. “I’m just glad I’m marrying someone decent and honest like Geoffrey. At least I know he wouldn’t take advantage of me.”
“Looks like he knows his way around a jewelry store, too,” he gestured to the obnoxiously, gigantic engagement ring on her finger. “Nice ice.”
“Jealous, are we?”
Her words hit him like darts, striking dead on his heart. “Maybe you should go put a rush on Geoffrey, sweetheart. We’re late.”
Minutes later Callum found himself in Anston Vitalie’s ballroom that reminded him of a medieval castle.
Stonework and fountains. Food, drink, ice sculptures spewing plumes of champagne.
Even the help, smiling wide as they floated through the crowded space with trays of food and champagne. Three hundred people at least.
“I think every sports journalist in the state of Florida is here tonight,” Brielle said taking a long look around. “But I’m not complaining. The attention certainly is nice.”
“And necessary,” Geoffrey replied, glancing at Callum. “It may be a security risk, but if you want a career, you need fans.” He looked back at Brielle, studying her dress. “Take off your wrap, will you, darling? Cameras love cleavage.”
Callum’s jaw tightened. Funny how he wished she would cover herself up.
He stayed close, keeping Brielle in his peripheral while the crowd surged around them.
She didn’t look rattled. Not outwardly. But he knew the subtleties of her body now.
The way her shoulders lifted slightly, the way her eyes sharpened when someone pushed too close.
His fingers itched to touch her. Even if just for a moment.
Run the pads of his fingers down her cheek, her neck… and then take her in his arms…
“Hey Riley, nice dress.”
Brielle startled, bumping into him and he caught her mid trip. “Oh, Thanks Nila,” Brielle recovered, smoothing her hands down her dress when she regained her balance. “A last-minute choice.”
“Prada or Valentino?”
“Vintage Halston actually. You like it?”
“Who doesn’t? Don’t you see every guy and some of the women gawking at you? Including your bodyguard here.” Nila gave Callum a dramatic once-over. “You’re Callum, yes?”
“That’s me.”
Brielle glanced at Callum then back at Nila. “Well, you can borrow it when I’m done.”
“The dress or the man?” Nila laughed at her own joke then struck a pose in her skimpy black dress. “By the way. Did you guys see, Anston?”
“No, why?” Brielle asked. “Something wrong with him?”
“You tell me.” Nila nodded into Anston’s direction by the bar. He was standing alone looking pale-faced and nervous.
“He does seem a little off,” Brielle said. “I hope everything’s okay.”
“Maybe he’s having second thoughts about selling the place to Geoffrey,” Nila shook her head. “Oh well, not a problem for us tonight.”
“No, it’s not, I suppose,” Brielle agreed.
“So I guess I’ll see you on the court tomorrow.” Nila slid up to Callum and gave his hand a playful tug. “And how about I see you on the dance floor. I can show you how flexible I am.”
Nila disappeared in the crowd, then after a moment. Callum couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t know about her game on the court, but she certainly has some off.”
“Don’t tell me you’re falling for it.”
He turned to face her, encouraged by the hint of jealousy in her voice. “Any reason I shouldn’t, Miss Riley?”
He was hoping for a reaction and held his breath, waiting to get one.
Finally, Brielle drifted closer and reached for him, her long fingers brushing the collar of his shirt. “You’re crooked,” she murmured.
“Wha’dya mean?” Callum managed, flirtier than he intended.
“Crooked.” She gave the bow tie a little tug. “Such a nice package. It’s a shame to have the bow on it a little off.”
Callum heard the tease in her voice. She stepped closer, near enough he could feel her breath on his neck.
“You’re just her type, you know,” Brielle remarked. “Tall, dark, those charming blue eyes of yours. And you in a tux…”
“You think I’m charming?”
She stepped back giving him a quick, appreciative once-over.
Callum’s mouth twitched. “Take a picture,” he said under his breath. “It’ll last longer.”
A flash of amusement crossed her face. Quick as a match strike. God did he want to smother that smirking mouth of hers with kisses. “How about you dance with me,” he asked. “Just once.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Your close proximity makes my job easier.”
Brielle scowled. “I bet it does.”
“Brielle, may I have a word with you outside, please?”
Callum’s attention snapped to Anston Vitalie. The man’s hand clamped down on Brielle’s shoulder, tight, and urgent. “Please Brielle,” Anston said, his eyes frantic and bloodshot. “Can you step outside with me?”
“Of course I will, Anston. Callum, I’ll be right back.”
Brielle looped her arm through his, guiding him toward the terrace. Callum watched them go, uneasy with Anston’s desperation. It appeared Brielle was also, given the glance she shot Callum over her shoulder. He followed behind her.
“Hey Callum.”
Nila laced her fingers through Callum’s and yanked him toward her. “Just because you’re not on her dance card doesn’t mean you have to leave. Besides she’s just with Anston. She’ll be fine.”
“I need to go with her,” he said.
“They’re just on the terrace. You can see them out the windows.”
Callum paused, forcing his expression neutral even as his eyes tracked the terrace doors. “Still…”
“Don’t worry,” Nila said, pulling him back like she read Callum’s mind. “Anston’s harmless, believe me, so give the girl some room. Everyone here knows everyone else. There’s no danger.”
Again Callum, paused. Nila seemed insistent and maybe there was a reason for that. Could he take the chance?
“Come on, just dance with me. Then I’ll head out there with you myself.”
With a tug of her hand, she hustled him onto the dance floor and pressed herself against him. Callum angled her so he could see over her shoulder out the windows. Little good it did with it being dark outside.
“You move pretty well,” she said after a few seconds. “Don’t tell me you’re not the dancing type.”
“I’m not.” Callum kept his steps smooth and automatic. “I’m more of the drinking-and-watching-the-game-at-the-bar kind of guy.”
“You’re a very good-looking man,” she said easily. “Brielle’s lucky. I suppose you’re heading off to Switzerland with her and Geoffrey?”
Callum cocked a brow. “Switzerland? What makes you say that?”
Nila bit her lip then leaned closer, conspiratorial.
“Okay, I know I’m not supposed to know, but I heard Geoffrey filing a flight plan with Miami International Airport.
Seems like a weird time to leave when he just bought this place and all.
” She scanned the immediate area before coming even closer, her lips against his ear.
“Don’t tell anyone I know, but they’re eloping. Geoffrey told me.”
Callum might have fallen over if his well-trained brain hadn’t snapped into gear. “Yeah, that eloping thing was top secret,” he said. “What else do you know you aren’t supposed to?”
She shrugged. “Not much. Just that they’re leaving after the match tomorrow. Brielle was pretty adamant about it. It’s strange. I always had the impression them getting married would never happen.”
“Yeah,” Callum said, quiet, but reeling in the panic and alarm and whatever the hell else he dared to feel at the moment.
“I was surprised it was all planned so fast.”
It made sense. If Brielle was afraid of repercussions from either her father or the federal government, Switzerland would make her unreachable. She’d have a place to train and a husband who was a full citizen.
A waiter passed by their area of the dance floor. Callum stopped, took a glass of champagne for Nila, then glanced at the man’s face.
And looked again as the guy moved away.
Bad complexion… Dark eyes… Long hair…
Callum didn’t forget faces. Ever. But it wasn’t just the face, it was the presence, the way the man moved through the room like he didn’t belong in it.
He slipped into the crowd, noticeably more rushed than when he appeared.
When he reached the terrace doors, he ditched the tray and stepped outside into the night.
That’s when it clicked. That night at the Eager Beaver. It was the guy with the tattoo.
Without explanation, Callum shoved past Nila and headed for the terrace.
“Hey, where you going?” Nila called after him.
The terrace was empty, but over the stone ledge, Callum caught sight of a shadow tearing across the lawn below. The man was heading toward the pool complex across the valley. Beyond that was an access road.
Callum vaulted the brick wall, hit the lawn hard, rolled, and came up running. He sprinted into the darkness hoping like hell he wasn’t too late.