Chapter 27
Callum
Back at the hotel following Lucy’s destructive aerial catastrophe, my emotions and nerves refuse to settle. The sight of her demolishing that set replays on an endless loop behind my eyes. I can’t stop reliving her plummeting through the air.
Even though she survived that brush with death, adrenaline is still racing through my veins.
On top of everything else, Lucy doesn’t seem to care. That stunt catapulted her into the final round of this godforsaken competition, so she’s walking on cotton candy clouds as we push through the door of our suite.
She glides toward the bedroom with a spring in her step, like risking her life for a who’s the prettiest contest was totally worth the risk.
A migraine claws at the base of my skull. “Are you forgetting that you could’ve died today?”
Lucy pauses, then shrugs and keeps walking. “You’re all right, and I’m all right, and I could die any day.”
Is she serious? She’s just going to dismiss her reckless, suicidal behavior?
I snap. “Are you brain-dead?” The words roar out of me, louder than intended. Not that I give a shit.
She freezes. The muscles in her shoulders tighten.
“What the hell were you thinking?” My voice nearly cracks with fear and anger. “Did they literally remove your brain and replace it with lipstick when I wasn’t looking? How can you be so casual about endangering yourself like that?”
The image of Lucy dropping from the sky will haunt me for a long time, and she’s acting like none of it matters.
She rounds on me, her dark brown eyes molten with fire. “My bad. Wouldn’t want to land you in hot water with Darren by croaking on your watch.”
The vein in my neck just might burst. “Excuse me?”
“You and I both know you’re only here for the money. You’re just angry because I’m making you work for it.”
She’s damn right I’m angry. My blood boils through my veins. How does she always manage to crawl right under my skin? “Were you just trying to spite me?”
She tosses her head and barks out a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Then what?” I growl, fingers aching to grab her by the arms. To shake her or pull her close or bite her neck. I’m unsure which option appeals to me more at the moment. “What possessed you to do something so dangerous? You have a death wish or something?”
“What does it matter to you?” She’s wild-eyed and flushed, chest and shoulders heaving. “I’m just a job!”
My heart fumbles in my chest. “Look, Marlow—”
“Just stop already.” She scoffs. “I’m not interested in what you have to say.”
Guilt pancakes me flat. She’s still angry about that last kiss. The animalistic way I tossed her around. How can I blame her? I should’ve never let myself lose control. I know better.
But no matter how much I try to maintain a professional relationship, I’m fighting a losing battle. When she was plunging through the air, my job didn’t matter. Not one ounce of my career crossed my mind.
I just wanted her to be safe.
But that intention isn’t coming across at all. I can’t even speak without pissing her off. How can I expect her to listen if I can’t fucking communicate?
Focus, Callum. Even though I’ve completely lost my footing with this woman, I still need to at least attempt to regain my control.
While I’m caught up in my internal turmoil, Lucy keeps going.
“You want to know what I was thinking?” She thrusts her hands into the air.
“I wasn’t. I was feeling. I was angry and hurt and mortified and just wanted to lash out at the world, and that fabric was the closest thing I could get my hands on. ”
So she…what, threw a tantrum? All because I saw her dirty picture?
I shove a hand through my hair, taking a few seconds to get a handle on my voice. I don’t want to shout at her. If I do, I’ll never stop. “If you’re having emotional problems, see a therapist. Don’t destroy a rooftop.”
She balks. “I am seeing a therapist!”
A muscle near my eye twitches. I don’t get why the photo distresses her so much. I’m upset because the thought of Roguilin or his men anywhere near her when she’s like that has me reaching for the nearest weapon.
But she knew what she was getting into. If she can’t handle the fallout, she needs to seek help and not dump this problem into everyone else’s lap.
“This is all because of you and that…grotesque photo of me.” She shivers, averting her gaze.
“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you let someone snap pictures like that.” I hate the words as soon as they leave my mouth. That hatred only multiplies when Lucy’s face becomes ashen.
I’m acting like an asshole.
It’s not Lucy’s fault she sneaks behind my defenses. I shouldn’t be unleashing my anger on her. No matter my feelings on the subject, no one should be blackmailing her with that photo.
Lucy’s the victim here, and I’m a dick for hurling that in her face.
For fuck’s sake, I can’t stop morphing into a caveman around her.
I need to apologize. “Lucy, I—”
“Screw you, you unfeeling fuck stick!” Her elegant frame shakes with rage, vehement eyes shining. “You think I let someone take those pictures of me? I was sex trafficked. I didn’t have a choice.” Her voice cracks. “I didn’t…have a choice.”
The world drops out from beneath my feet.
Sex trafficked.
The term pings through my skull, driving needles into my brain. Darren said Lucy got mixed up in a sex trafficking operation run by the Russian Bratva. Nobody told me she herself was a survivor of one. The thought of Viktor Roguilin or his men abusing her, touching her, worse…
My body flips between white-hot rage and cold horror so quickly I can’t keep up with the emotions. My fingers clench and unclench. My head buzzes.
I wonder again how hard it would be to find that fucker and strangle him with my bare hands.
I have no idea what to do. What to say.
I can’t even breathe.
And Lucy…fuck, Lucy…
I’ve never seen anyone appear as broken as she does right now.
“Did you even bother to look at the photo?” she chokes out. “I mean, really look…”
My heart pounds violently enough to punch a hole between my ribs.
In her next breath, she covers her face and begins to sob. Big, helpless, horrified tears. I ripped the fight right out of her with my careless words.
The picture… I don’t want to even glance at it again, but I have to.
When I do, my heart stops. Upon closer inspection, I notice the details I missed the first time due to my anger.
Lucy’s not seductively posing for the camera. She’s terrified. The streak of dirt by her chin and her lank hair suggest she hasn’t showered in days, and her arms…fuck. I see multiple bruises. Some faint, some newer.
My eyes slip shut.
All our interactions over the past few weeks race by, little indicators clicking into place. She freezes, uncomfortable and afraid, when I invade her personal space or threaten to restrain her. The nightmares. The way she bristles at being followed. Her defensiveness right from the very beginning.
Remorse and shame numb me for a few awful moments, and then I move. I gather Lucy in my arms, stroking her purple-streaked hair as she shakes within my embrace.
She shoves weakly against my chest. “Let me go.” Her voice catches on another sob.
I hold her closer. She crumbles, hiding her face again as she cries.
I’m such an idiot. There’s nothing I can say.
All this time, I’ve been thinking she was some wild party girl.
Now, the puzzle pieces finally snap together.
When Darren, Veronika, and Maya briefed me on this assignment, I could tell they were withholding information.
I jumped to the conclusion that they were hiding Lucy’s voluntary involvement with Viktor Roguilin.
Instead, they were protecting her dignity.
Bringing me onboard without revealing the ugliest extent of what she’s suffered.
And I misread absolutely everything.
I wish I could roll back time and punch myself in the face before I ever opened my mouth.
“Lucy, I’m so sorry.” The words come out stale. Useless. “I know there’s nothing I can say. But I promise you, I didn’t know. Or else I never would’ve said—”
“You think I’m dis…disgusting.” Her voice warbles through hiccups. She’s still shielding her face behind her hands. “And I know it shouldn’t m-matter, but it does.”
My own actions damned me. She must think I hate her, when nothing could be further from the truth.
I tighten my arms around her. “I don’t think you’re… No, I’ve never thought that.”
“Don’t lie.” Her pitch wails higher. “I saw your face.”
I pull back. Gingerly, I reach for her hands and move them aside so I can meet her teary, reddening eyes. “When?”
“Last night.” She averts her gaze, pushes away, and folds her arms across her chest. “You were so repulsed by that photo that you didn’t even want me anymore.”
“No. That was because you looked frightened.” I swallow hard. I’m terrible at this. “I saw it in your face, and I was…disgusted by myself. Not you.”
Her eyes briefly flick up to mine, narrow and suspicious. Her lower lip trembles. “Why? I wasn’t scared—”
“I thought I saw something when I looked at you. Then I got spooked.” I huff out a slow breath. “You’re supposed to be my job. Protecting you is supposed to be the only thing on my mind, but it’s not. You undermine my control, Lucy Marlow. You have from almost the first moment we met.”
Her eyelids rise as she gives me her full attention.
“I don’t think you’re disgusting. I…fuck, Lucy.
I’m attracted as hell to you.” Admitting it, finally, to myself and to her releases the vice around my chest. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.
I’ve been trying to fight this attraction from the start, but nothing’s worked.
All I’ve managed to do is panic and act like an asshole. ”
“Really?” She almost sounds hopeful.
That hope stabs me right in the heart.
I nod. “I meant every word I said the other night. I admire you. You’re incredible at something you’re passionate about.
Even when you destroy sets and fall from the sky, you’re still excellent.
You’ve been through hardships most people can’t even imagine, and you haven’t let any of that stop you from pursuing your dreams. And now that I know… ”
Her lips pinch together.
A lump forms in my throat. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.
” A downpour of guilt threatens to sweep me away, and I take a beat to recenter myself.
“I’d do anything to take your pain away.
But I can’t go back in time and murder them all, so we’re going to have to come up with something else.
Tell me what I can do to make up for the way I’ve been acting. ”
She studies my lips and huffs out a bit of air. “Will you kiss me again?”
Should I kiss her? No. It’s a terrible, unprofessional idea, but I’m not about to reject this woman. Not if she needs me.
Not when I want her more than I can remember wanting anything.
My fingers clasp her chin, tilting her face up to meet mine.
Tenderly, I touch my lips to hers. Instead of attacking her like a savage creature, I cherish her with my mouth.
This kiss is even softer than our first. Her tears salt the taste, but that does nothing to subtract from the warmth of her lips against mine. Her skin is soft beneath my hand as I cup the side of her neck.
After a few seconds, Lucy shakes her head and clutches my shirt. “Don’t treat me like a porcelain doll.”
Well, shit. I slide my hand over her cheek, into her hair. “You’re sure?”
Her eyes bore into mine. “I promise I won’t break.”
With a groan of frustration, I give in. I release the tethers keeping my lust in check and kiss her for real, displaying all my hunger. I bite her lower lip, and my hands trace the slope of her back down to her waist, where I yank her against me and slip my tongue into her mouth.
She whines a little, her arms moving around my neck and clinging tightly. Her mouth opens wider, and I tease her tongue with mine, coaxing it into a dance I lead that she eagerly follows.
I want more. Her taste, her smell, the silky sensation of her hair through my fingers…
I grind my erect cock against her thigh, groaning at the sparks that shoot through my system. Lucy moans into my mouth, her nails clawing at my shoulders, digging under the neck of my shirt.
With her lips against mine, I taste her relief, her desperate need for acceptance. I recognize the same need in the way my hands cling to her body, grasping at the soft skin of her hips.
This woman will be the death of me. I’ve never wanted someone the way I want every last inch of her.
The heat between us ignites a blaze beneath my ribs, something I can’t hold back for much longer.
Our sloppy, scorching kisses quickly blaze out of control.
Soon we’re panting for breath and still refusing to let each other breathe.
I wait for her to push me away, to retreat behind her defensive walls. Instead, she shocks me by pressing into my body with equal desperation, proving she needs this as much as I do.