Chapter 5 Riley #2
“You absolutely brood. You have a whole brooding corner in your room back home.”
I swallowed my laugh at that. I should say no. I should politely explain that this was a private event, that strangers couldn’t just show up uninvited, that we had protocols for newcomers. But Caelan was looking at me with those gray eyes, and my pulse was racing.
“Do you have the book?” I asked instead. “The one we’re discussing tonight?”
Caelan’s expression shifted. Hope, barely contained. “I can acquire it.”
“There are extra copies on the table.”
He moved toward the table, and I watched him, unable to look away.
He picked up a copy of “His Darkest Obsession,” examined it briefly, then settled into a chair that seemed too small for his frame.
His knees almost touched the underside of the table.
Thessa plopped down beside Jade, immediately striking up a conversation about cover art.
Caelan caught me watching him. The corner of his mouth quirked up, almost a smile, and I looked away fast. Oops. Caught red-handed. Shit.
I grabbed my wine glass, took a gulp, and pretended my hands weren’t trembling slightly.
This was going to be a long night.
***
I tried very hard to focus on the book and the discussion at hand, but I failed spectacularly.
Every time I looked up from my notes, Caelan was watching me. Not in a creepy way…Or maybe in exactly a creepy way, I couldn’t decide. But this quiet attention made my skin prickle, and every time our eyes met, he didn’t look away.
I blushed every fucking time.
He’d already skimmed most of the book, flipping through pages with impressive speed while everyone else settled in.
The man read faster than anyone I’d ever seen.
By the time we started the discussion, he was already three-quarters through, occasionally going back to reread sections.
I didn’t know how it was even possible, and I really thought he was just goofing around, doing some bullshit skit about reading that fast when actually no words were sticking.
But when the discussion started, he participated thoughtfully, his observations oddly insightful for someone who clearly just speed-read the entire thing. I was speechless.
“The hero’s obsession isn’t actually about control,” he said during a debate about the love interest’s motives. “It’s about fear. He’s terrified of losing her, so he tries to hold on too tightly. The possessiveness is a symptom, not the disease.”
The room went quiet. Several women exchanged glances.
“That’s...” Margo tilted her head. “Actually a really good point.”
“Told you. He’s read romance before,” Thessa whispered to Jade. “Extensively. Don’t let him fool you with the brooding mysterious act.”
Caelan’s eyes found mine again, ignoring his sister entirely. “The best romances understand that obsession comes from vulnerability, not strength. The hero isn’t powerful because he’s controlling. He’s powerful because he’d do anything, become anything, for her.”
I felt tingles in my stomach, spreading all through my belly and down below to my pussy. I was suddenly breathless, mouth dry. Holy fuck. It should be illegal to be this handsome and have such a deep, sexy voice.
“That’s one interpretation,” I managed.
“What’s yours?”
I should have a clever answer. I was an author, for god’s sake. I thought about this stuff professionally. But his gaze was steady, and my brain had apparently gone on vacation.
“I think...” I paused, grasping for coherence. “I think the best romances show that love changes people. Not because they’re forced to change, but because they want to. Because the other person makes them want to be better.”
Caelan nodded slowly, understanding and approval filling his expression. “To become worthy of them.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
We stared at each other. The moment stretched, heavy with tension. The rest of the room seemed to fade until it was just him and me and this electric thing between us that I didn’t understand.
“Get a room,” someone muttered. I was pretty sure it was Patricia. Or maybe Ellen. They tended to share opinions.
“Seconded,” Marcus added, not looking up from his wine. The spell broke, and I looked away, my cheeks flaming hot.
Sloane cleared her throat loudly. “Okay, so. Caelan. Australia. What brings you to Lysmont specifically?”
Caelan turned to Sloane, and I took the opportunity to gulp more wine. My hand was still shaking slightly. I set the glass down before anyone noticed.
“Traveling,” he said smoothly. “My sister and I are exploring the country.”
“Backpacking?” Margo asked, her spider senses clearly tingling. “You don’t look like backpackers.”
She had a point. He looked like he stepped out of a luxury travel magazine. The kind where people drink champagne on yachts and wear cashmere while hiking.
“We prefer comfortable travel.”
“Rich backpacking,” Jade translated. “Bougie wandering. I get it.”
“Where are you from originally?” Sloane pressed.
“A small country. Remote. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”
“Try us,” Sloane said. Her tone suggested she would google whatever he said immediately and call out any inconsistencies.
Thessa jumped in. “It’s called Dusk…Land. Tiny little place in Europe, very isolated. It’s only been a country for a few years so there’s almost nothing about it on the internet. We prefer…Solitude. And secrecy.”
That was odd.
“Duskland,” Margo repeated flatly. “That’s not a real country.”
“It’s very small. More of a principality. Terrible Wi-Fi. Basically medieval. We still use carrier pigeons for important messages.”
“Thessa,” Caelan said, his voice strained.
“What? I’m adding color.”
I watched Caelan’s expression flicker, somewhere between grateful for the save and pained at the terrible lie. He caught me watching, and amusement passed between us. A shared moment. I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
I didn’t know where the hell he was from, but what did I care? It wasn’t as if there was a country awful enough to grant you enemies wherever you went…Though I could think of one…
“So what do you do in Duskland?” Jade asked, interrupting my thoughts and clearly buying the story entirely. “For work, I mean.”
“I’m in management,” Caelan said carefully. “Family business.”
“What kind of business?”
“Real estate. Land. We have significant holdings.”
“He’s rich,” Thessa stage-whispered to Jade. “Don’t tell him I said that. It goes to his head.”
“Thessa,” Caelan said, his voice carrying a warning.
“What? It’s true. Our family has land going back centuries. He’s basically royalty. There’s a crown involved. It’s a whole thing.”
“There is no crown, and we are rich, not just me.”
“There’s definitely a crown. I’ve seen it. Ceremonial crowns are still crowns, Ky. And you’re richer than me, because of…You know.”
Margo was watching this exchange with narrowed eyes, probably mentally drafting subpoenas.
Sloane looked like she was cataloging every word for later analysis, her phone suspiciously close to her hand.
Even Jade seemed intrigued, leaning forward with her chin in her hand.
The twins were whispering to each other, and Patricia was giving Caelan an approving once-over that made Ellen elbow her.
Marcus just looked like he wished he’d brought popcorn. Gossipy little man.
“So,” Sloane said slowly, “a rich real estate prince from a fake European country shows up at a romance book club in Lysmont. Forgive me for asking, but why?”
The question hung in the air. Everyone leaned in slightly, waiting for the answer. Even Thessa looked curious, though she had to know what her brother was going to say.
Caelan’s gaze slid back to me. Held.
“I found something interesting here,” he said simply.
My stomach flipped, the butterflies I’d felt earlier turning into raging bees. My breath caught in my throat and the wine glass slipped slightly in my grip. I had to catch it before it spilled everywhere.
Sloane and Margo exchanged a look that communicated entire paragraphs. Jade made a tiny squeaking sound and grabbed Thessa’s arm. Patricia fanned herself with her book. One of the twins said “Oh my god” under her breath, and the other one shushed her.
I stared at Caelan, and he stared back. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle. He was looking at me like I was the interesting thing he found, like I was the reason he was here. Like I was the only thing in this room that mattered.
It was really, really hot in the bar. Or maybe I was the only one sweating. Good gods. Every logical part of my brain was screaming that this was crazy, that I didn’t know this man and this wasn’t fucking normal and sane behavior.
But a louder part was whispering what if.
I was in trouble. I was in so much trouble.