Chapter 17 #2
“I set you up, and you fell into my trap, blind with jealousy,” I say, my stare boring into his eyes. “You’ve always ignored me, regarded me as a stupid, silly girl,” I murmur, closing the space between us. “What happened, Callum? Huh?”
His face is unreadable, his expression stern as always.
“What made you lose your cool tonight? Did my rubbing up on him get you hard?”
We practically breathe the same air as I freeze in front of him. A soft breeze makes my skirt curl around his sharp suit pants.
I press my finger to his chest.
“You, men, are so damn predictable. Dangerous but predictable.”
A different thought puts a smile on my face.
“Can you imagine that these fools want to marry me away? Can you imagine what a nightmare it would be for my future husband? I could do this all day long. Rubbing my pussy against someone else, making bullets fly, watching a grown-up man, like you…” The irony is thick.
“Turn into a basket case. Let me break it down to you. Paxton and I are two consenting adults. We can rub whatever the fuck we want and get pleasure from it. Whether you like to watch us or not is a different issue. It’s your problem in the end. So leave me the fuck alone, yeah?”
I don’t smile.
I’m not feline-like.
I’m not even blinking, staring into his eyes with the fury of a monster storm.
“And just so you know, I don’t care for your bringing new women here. This is my family's house. You were married to my mother. She may be dead, and she may have belonged in an asylum, but she is your only connection to us. So, show some respect.”
Despite leveling my criticism in an ice-cold speech, I’m sweating inside my dress from pushing this man’s buttons, yet he’s not as much as faltering.
For a few seconds, we chant our hatred for each other in silence. His eyes slightly narrow, a clue I spot too late, and by the time I grab the meaning of that change, his hand is in my hair again, his arm is stretched out and turns off the shower, and I’m pushed into the stream of water.
My eyes, my lips, my skin are drowning in a jet of water.
I shoot my hands to my face to protect myself from the sting of water and mascara.
“Ugh… You fucking jerk,” I spat, dripping with water, my dress turning into a cloak of fluid, fighting and losing the battle with gravitational forces.
The fabric cries at the seams, hanging heavy, and my nipples peek through the soaked-up, silky layers, while my satin shorts get wet.
My hair is like a stack of folded laundry thrown back into the washer, and I can’t fight my way to the shower to turn it off.
I can’t move away either.
He doesn’t let me as he holds me still, allowing the water to do what he couldn’t.
And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the harrowing sound of torn fabric makes it to my ears.
Layers of destroyed textiles fall from my shoulders, my chest, my hips as he tears them apart with a vengeance.
Shocked, I move my hands from my face to my chest.
“What the fuck is this for?” I manage to push out as the water goes from warm to cold, and I’m dressed in goosebumps.
“This is just a glimpse of the life you’re so sure you can handle.
Imagine this with a gun to your head, and perhaps between your legs.
You know nothing, Leilani Gallo. Absolutely nothing.
You speak of things no one can have. Every woman married to someone like your grandfather––yes, even your grandfather––is playing Russian roulette for the rest of her life.
They don’t know whether they’ll wake up in the morning or perish at the hands of their husbands.
You shouldn’t play with people. You’re not good at it.
They’ll outsmart you, disregard your will, and force you into accepting their plans without a problem.
And stop playing with me. I’m your worst enemy. ”
Cupping my jiggling breasts, I shout at him.
“I don’t want them to marry me to some old asshole. Why can’t you understand?”
A scoffing grin tugs at his lips.
“And this is your fucking plan to fight them back?”
“There is no plan. Can’t you see?”
Towering over me, he clasps my chin and speaks slowly in my face.
“Drinking the night away and rubbing your pussy against a stranger is a plan. A bad one at that. You’ll gain nothing if you keep doing that.”
I scoff at him.
“Really, then why don’t you teach me what to do?”
He steps back.
That is the last thing I wanted him to do.
“You’re not my problem, Leilani. That’s your riddle to solve.”
I move closer to him, my heels leaving holes in the ruined dress lining the floor.
“Then why were you there by the pool, Callum? Huh? Was it because of him? Who did you protect? Were you worried about me, him, or yourself?”
The silence wraps around us like a giant snake.
“Were you only concerned with yourself? Why?” The curiosity is blatant in my voice. “What can someone like me do to someone like you? What can I do to you, Callum?”
His face seems carved in stone.
“And by the way, how did they make you say yes to my mother? If I know anything about my family, they didn’t leave anything to chance?”
A few moments pass before he snaps out of his paralysis, reaches to his right, grabs a towel, and tosses it at me.
“Here. We’re done talking.”
With that, he turns and heads to the door.
“No, no." I rush after him. "You can’t leave me here like this. I need clothes. I don’t want anyone to think that something bad has happened to me.”
He almost huffs as he pulls to a stop and picks up his phone from his pocket.
He makes a call, and someone answers right away.
“Go to Nona and ask her to give you a couple of dresses for Lani.”
I almost faint.
Lani?
This man just called me Lani? This is the name people like Rory call me. There aren’t that many people like her.
Lani.
It sounds like a magic spell.
Who is he talking to?
It can’t be his friend, Paxton. I don’t see Callum talking to him like that. He gives the person more directions before turning to me with a dark expression on his face, and I brace myself for the worst part of this evening.