Chapter Twenty-Seven
Juliet
Fucking Callum.
Every other man in my life, I studied. I shaped myself into exactly what they needed before they even knew they needed me. I planned. I prepared.
But Callum? Callum is anarchy in a t-shirt and jeans. He just plows through life, wrecking my carefully constructed order, and I let him.
I should be researching him properly. But no. Because I’m too busy dealing with the fucking Tammy issue.
Apparently, some nosy wannabe detective of a neighbor saw me at her place. Not the night she died, obviously. But one of the other times.
So now, I’m a person of interest.
Do they have proof? No.
Am I nervous? Also no. Because I can’t be. Because if I stop to think about how I’m going to make this go away, I might spiral.
I pull into Callum’s trailer park, prepared to break in, get answers about his past. Or his hobbies. Or why the hell I can’t get a read on him the way I do with everyone else.
Then, he texts me.
Callum: Key’s above the door, Madness. Come in.
As if. As fucking if.
If he wanted me inside, he should have answered the door like a normal person. Should have stood there, shirtless, smirking, flexing just a little because he knows I’m weak for his tattoos.
Or had the decency to let me do this my way.
But no.
He screws it up.
I give up.
Me: Fine. You get me as I am. I swear I could have been everything to you.
A second later, my phone pings.
Callum: You already are, Madness. You know that. Invite me to dinner.
I stare at the screen. This man.
He calls me Madness like it’s a love song. Like it means princess or sweetheart or mine.
I should tell him to fuck off.
Instead, I text:
Me: Tonight. What even is your favorite food?
Callum: You.
Me: Seven. I’ll just cook whatever then. Asshole.
I throw my phone into my bag, exhale through my nose, and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I love him.
God help me, I actually love him.
And he loves me just the way I am.
That’s a fucking problem. It’s… insane.
Back home, my men feel it.
They know I’m rattled.
Because this dinner is supposed to be tailored to the new man. But Callum isn’t normal. He’s a fucking wildfire who doesn’t play by any rules, especially not mine.
So what do I do?
I make my favorite meal.
Because if Callum likes me just as I am, then he gets me as I am.
Stuffed burgers. Not just a lazy blend of cheese and seasonings mixed into the meat like some amateur bullshit. No. Two perfectly seasoned patties pinched together with melty cheese, grilled onions, and peppers trapped inside like a sinful little secret.
Orion whistles low when I drag out the grill. “Oh, now it’s a party.”
“Did you doubt me?” I arch a brow, handing him the plate of patties.
“Never, sweetheart,” he smirks, taking them with one hand while the other pats my ass. “You making those battered fries, too? Because I’m not gonna lie, I only stayed with you for those.”
Noah snorts as he sets out ingredients for the rolls. “Oh, so not for the mind-blowing sex?”
Orion winks. “That’s a close second.”
I roll my eyes, but my stomach tightens with excitement. They’re teasing, but I know tonight is electric for all of us. A new man at this table means new dynamics, new chemistry, new possibilities.
Noah and Elliot work on the rolls, their movements effortless, fluid, in sync. Noah’s strong hands knead the dough, and Elliot watches him with that sharp, assessing gaze, the kind that sees every flicker of emotion beneath the surface.
“You’re getting better at that,” Elliot murmurs, pressing a steady hand against Noah’s lower back. It’s so casual, so intimate.
Noah beams. Fucking beams. “You taught me well.”
Orion snickers from the grill. “Christ, I think I just watched you two have sex with bread.”
Elliot doesn’t even look up. “You’re just jealous I haven’t taught you how to bake.”
“Who needs baking skills when I look this good?” Orion flexes and winks at me. “Right, sweetheart?”
I toss a towel at his head. He catches it without breaking eye contact. The cocky bastard.
I move to the potatoes, slicing them into perfect wedges. Orion crowds behind me, warm and solid, arms bracketing me against the counter.
“What’s for dessert?” Elliot asks from across the kitchen. His voice is calm, but I feel the weight of his gaze on me.
“Shakes,” I say, trying to focus as Orion’s fingers trail up my spine. “Chocolate and cherry.”
Noah hums in approval.
Elliot just smirks. “Good. You’ll need the energy.”
The room goes quiet.
Not uncomfortable. Not uncertain. Just thick with anticipation.
Orion chuckles low against my ear. “Well, fuck. Now I’m hard.”
I slap his arm, but I’m smiling. Because we’re all feeling it.
This isn’t just dinner.
This is foreplay.
And Callum?
He has no fucking clue what he’s walking into.
Everything is done with ten minutes to spare.
Which is, of course, when the doorbell rings.
Because Callum is the kind of bastard who shows up early just to see if he can catch me off guard.
I don’t even hesitate.
I signal my men to stay put and cross the room, smoothing down my dress, perfectly composed as I open the door.
And there he is.
Callum fills the doorway like he owns the damn place. Casual menace in every line of his body.
One hand holds a bottle of whiskey. The other?
On my waist, pulling me into a kiss.
The audacity.
The accuracy.
“Miss me, Madness?” he asks.
A growl builds in my throat, and I swear to God, I almost drag him inside and fuck him against the door.
Instead, Orion steps in, snatching the bottle right out of Callum’s hand. “I’ll put this on ice.”
The smirk Callum throws him says he knew that would happen. That he planned it.
He’s already playing with them.
Oh, I’m so keeping him.
I lead him toward the table, and his sharp green eyes scan the meal like he’s just been handed the keys to a kingdom.
He looks at me, at the perfectly grilled, indulgent, over-the-top stuffed burgers, the battered fries, the homemade shakes.
And that smile?
That slow, knowing, ‘you already belong to me’ kind of smile?
Yeah.
I got it right.
“Damn,” he says, shaking his head. “How’d you know?”
“She knows everything about us,” Noah says, a little too gleeful.
Elliot leans back in his chair, watching Callum with sharp amusement. “No. If my notes were a brochure…” He lifts his glass, taking a slow sip. “Callum’s are scribbles on a bar napkin,” he finishes smoothly.
I laugh so hard I swear I see stars.
Callum just snorts, grabbing his burger like this whole thing is the most normal dinner in the world.
“Are we even gonna eat before we start misbehaving?” I ask, still breathless from laughing.
“Not a chance.” Orion grins.
I roll my eyes. “I made my favorite because you’re a pain in the ass and gave me nothing to work with.”
“You should spank his ass,” Elliot says.
“And blindfold him,’ Orion adds.
Callum takes a slow bite, chewing thoughtfully. Then he swallows, licks his lips, and says, “Blindfold me and spank my ass.”
Noah nearly chokes on his shake.
Elliot tilts his head, considering. “I like him.”
“Dinner first,” I say primly, cutting a fry in half just to prove a point.
“You gonna let her blindfold you?” Orion asks, propping his chin in his hand, looking way too amused.
Callum meets his stare without hesitation. “She can do whatever the hell her mad little heart wants to me.”
Oh.
Oh, we’re gonna have fun with him.
Noah leans forward, eyes flicking between Callum and Elliot. “You ever had a fivesome?”
Callum doesn’t even blink. “Nope.”
“Guess it’s all on you then, Doc,” Noah says, grinning wickedly at Elliot.
Elliot sets down his glass and steeples his fingers. “Well then, I suppose we should set expectations.”
Callum raises a brow. “Oh yeah?”
Elliot’s smirk is pure fucking sin. “None of us will be the same.”
Orion laughs, throwing an arm over the back of his chair. “He isn’t wrong.”
Noah nods solemnly. “Seldom is.”
Elliot lifts a brow. “Seldom?”
Noah immediately backtracks. “Sorry, sir. He’s never wrong.”
Elliot chuckles, satisfied.
“Eat,” Orion urges. “You’re gonna need your strength.”
Callum, unfazed as ever, pops another fry into his mouth. “So am I one of Madness’ men now?”
Orion grins. “Can we keep him, Mom?”
I swear to God I almost spit out my drink.
Orion keeps going. “I need some balance with these two. You lift?” He eyes Callum critically.
Callum doesn’t miss a beat. “Clearly not enough.”
Orion’s grin turns feral. “I’ll fix that.”
I shake my head, grinning, heart bursting.
I love these assholes.
“I think we can keep him,” I say, mock serious. “He’s mostly housebroken.”
Callum licks salt off his fingers, green eyes locked on mine. “I don’t shit where I eat or sleep.”
We all laugh.
Because this is it.
He’s in.
And tonight?
We’re about to ruin him.
Dinner is an absolute indulgence. Every bite, every knowing glance, every smirk exchanged over burgers and milkshakes only feeds the tension.
Callum fucking loved it. I could tell by the way he devoured everything, by the way his sharp green eyes never left me for too long.
By the time we’re clearing the table, I can feel the shift.
It’s in the way Orion’s fingers brush my waist as he sets the dishes in the sink. The way Elliot stands behind me, warm and steady, his presence alone making my stomach clench in anticipation.
It’s in Noah’s smile, the way he licks a stray drop of shake from his thumb, watching me with a knowing gleam in his eye.
And it’s in Callum’s slow stretch, the assessing glance he gives the room, the way he rolls his shoulders like he’s getting ready for something.
“So, how does this work?” Callum asks, a lazy drawl, but there’s heat under it. A dare.
Everyone but me looks to Elliot.
Of course they do.
I, however, don’t wait for instructions.
I step away from them, toward the group room, and throw a sultry look over my shoulder.
“This,” I say, voice smooth as silk, “Is where we all fuck.”
Callum inhales sharply.
Orion grins. Noah laughs. Elliot watches me like he’s about to feast.
My heels click softly against the hardwood as I cross the threshold.
I don’t look back.
I don’t have to.
I can hear them following.
Their footsteps, their controlled breaths, the quiet hunger in the air thickening with every step.