Chapter 73 Callum
callum
There’s something between us, something fragile and burning all at once. A thread I can’t name, but one I want to keep pulling. -Aurelie
The drive back was quiet, but not in a way that made my skin itch like most silences did. It wasn’t uncomfortable; if anything, it felt like a reprieve. After everything Aurélie had been through today, the last thing I wanted was to disturb whatever peace she’d found.
The road stretched out ahead of us, winding through the outskirts of Monte Carlo.
The city lights were in front of us now, replaced by shadows and the occasional flicker of headlights from passing cars.
My hands gripped the wheel, my knuckles white, though I wasn’t sure if it was from focus or the weight of my thoughts.
Her words still lingered, replaying in my head like a broken record.
How she’d thanked me. My heart had stuttered when she said it, the gravity of her confession slamming into me like a rogue wave.
She’d looked at me with those shimmering eyes, so vulnerable and raw.
It wasn’t often I found myself at a loss for words, but tonight was full of firsts.
The blush crept up my neck before I could stop it, my usual confidence faltering under the weight of her gaze.
What was I supposed to say to that? My throat had felt tight, and for a split second, I’d considered deflecting—making some quip to lighten the moment, but I just knew she didn’t need my sarcasm right now.
I’d swallowed hard, my pulse thrumming in my ears as I’d tried to piece together the right response.
Something profound. Something that could match what she’d just given me.
But all I could manage was the truth, so I’d said the only thing that felt right.
You don’t have to thank me for caring about you.
I flicked my eyes toward her, just long enough to catch the softening in her features.
She was staring out the window, her face bathed in the soft glow of the dashboard lights.
The tension in her shoulders had eased, her body leaning slightly against the door as if the day was finally catching up to her.
She looked peaceful, almost fragile in a way that twisted something deep in my chest.
I’d always thought of Aurélie as invincible.
She was fierce, determined, and utterly unshakable on the track, but tonight, I’d seen another side of her—a side that wasn’t made of steel and fire but of flesh and bone.
Vulnerable. Human. It scared the hell out of me, because it made me care even more.
This isn’t just a rivalry, I thought, gripping the wheel tighter. Not to me.
She wasn’t just my competition. She was this brilliant, maddening woman who’d battled for every inch of respect she’d earned in this sport.
I admired her, respected her, and maybe, just maybe, I wanted to protect her and take care of her in ways that went beyond anything I’d ever felt for someone else.
The thought made my heart thunder, a mix of longing and dread coiling together like two sides of the same coin. I couldn’t afford to feel this way—not about her. It was dangerous, for both of us. Everything was at stake. But the more time I spent with her, the harder it became to ignore the pull.
Maybe it was a sign I shouldn’t ignore it.
“Callum?” Her voice broke through the quiet, soft but steady.
I glanced at her again, my pulse quickening at the way she looked at me. Fuck. I was so far gone for this woman. “Yeah?”
“Can I… stay with you tonight?” she asked, hesitating slightly. “I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Her words landed softly, but the weight of what she was asking wasn’t lost on me.
Aurélie Dubois didn’t lean on people. She faced everything with her chin high and shoulders squared, even when the world was stacked against her.
It was unexpected, and I’d be damned if I didn’t do everything in my power to make her feel safe tonight.
Chest aching and all too eager to keep her near me at all costs, I nodded without a second thought. “Of course. You can take the guest room.” I’d like it better if you were in mine, but…
Her lips curved into the faintest smile, and not for the first time tonight, I felt like I’d done something right.
As we pulled up to my building, I made a split-second decision.
The valet would be too risky. Too many prying eyes that could connect the dots.
Instead, I smoothly drove past the waiting attendants and headed straight for the underground garage.
I maneuvered through the familiar paths, each turn bringing me closer to my designated parking spot.
The moment I cut the ignition, silence descended like a heavy cloak around us. The air inside the car seemed charged with unspoken words, emotions swirling between us like a tempestuous sea. She turned to me, tucking her hair behind her ear with a soft, tired smile.
“I know I’m repeating myself but… I just wanted to say merci again. I sound like a baguette on repeat.”
I blinked. “A… baguette?”
She nodded, completely serious. “Is that not the phrase?”
I snorted. Choked on my own laugh, actually. “That is absolutely not the phrase.”
She made a face, waving her hand dismissively.
“Ugh. Okay. Then I sound like a broken croissant?” That did me in.
I was full-on laughing now, head tilted back as she rolled her eyes, biting back a smile of her own.
“I meant to say broken record,” she admitted, cheeks pink.
“But now I can’t stop picturing a broken croissant spinning on a turntable. ”
“Oh, my God,” I murmured, shaking my head, grinning like a fucking idiot. “You are… something else.”
“In French, it’s disque raillé.”
“Yeah. Broken record. You were so close.”
Aurélie groaned. “So simple. Record. I was right there.”
“But nowhere near as entertaining as broken croissant.”
She was laughing now too—real and breathy and contagious—and I swear, something inside me just tumbled headfirst into being hers.
It wasn’t just the way she looked right now, flushed and wind-kissed and curled into my passenger seat.
It was this. The warmth. The ease. The fact that I hadn’t laughed like this in months.
Years, maybe. She could’ve said anything just then.
I was already gone. Falling so fucking hard for her that there was no chance in hell I’d be able to stop it.
And yet, somehow, it still kept getting worse.
Because now I couldn’t breathe.
All I could see was her from earlier. How she’d looked at me while I knelt before her, tightening her harness.
The reverence in her touch when she’d slipped her fingers into my hair.
The fucking whimper she made when I kissed her stomach.
It had short-circuited my brain and gone straight to my cock, and it had taken every second of my own goddamn jump to recover.
And now she was smiling at me. Sweet and soft and so fucking here, her hand resting on her thigh like she didn’t know how close I was to crawling over the console and kissing her senseless.
But I didn’t move.
Because what she needed right now wasn’t the fire burning behind my ribs. She needed safety. Steadiness. Not possession. Her needs were more important than mine.
So I swallowed everything I wanted. Everything I felt.
“You don’t need to thank me, Aurélie,” I said quietly, looking straight at her. “I meant what I said earlier. I care about you more than you know.”
Her breath caught, a flicker of something indefinable passing through her eyes before she nodded. “I believe you, Callum.”
Steeling myself, I opened the car door and moved around to her side, offering my hand. She took it without hesitation, her fingers slipping into mine like they’d always belonged there. Fuck, they fit. Perfectly. As if the universe had been waiting for this very moment.
Every instinct screamed at me to pull her into my arms, press her back against the car, and kiss her until she forgot every reason she’d ever learned to guard herself, but I didn’t.
Not yet. Not when she’d just started letting herself breathe again.
I needed to give her the space to find her own strength, quietly vowing to be there if she faltered.
I held her hand instead—steady and pretending I wasn’t shaking on the inside.
We moved toward the lift, the silence between us full of unspoken things.
Every step echoed with restraint, want, reverence.
When we stepped inside, the dim glow of the overhead light painted her in soft gold.
She didn’t look at me, not at first. Just exhaled slowly, her shoulders lifting and falling like she was still trying to come down from the fall, from the day, from me.
I turned to face the doors, fists clenched at my sides.
Then she shifted beside me, the faint brush of her arm against mine lighting me up like I’d touched a live wire.
Her hand slid to the railing, fingers ghosting along the cool metal, and I cracked.
My hand found her waist—just a touch, just to ground myself—but the second I felt the warmth of her through that sweatshirt, I was done.
I stepped in close behind her, my palm flattening against her hip before I even registered the movement.
My other hand mirrored it, bracketing her in.
She didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, she leaned back into me, her hands slipping over mine where they held her, keeping them there. I sighed, and she tipped her head back against my chest, her hair brushing my jaw. My heart fucking stuttered.
We stood like that, pressed together in the golden light, the metal doors reflecting us back—her flushed and glowing, me barely holding it together.
She was soft in my hands, and I was trembling with the need to kiss her neck, her jaw, every inch of her, but I didn’t move.
I just held her. Just breathed her in. Just waited.
Because this was everything.
Having her be mine was everything.