Chapter Seventeen
“Keep your shit,” Fallon’s amused voice said through my earpiece.
Bad timing.
We’d arrived on the fifty-fourth floor before Amir could be seated. As soon as Amir’s eyes landed on Calista, Fallon and I were immediately dismissed. Not that I could blame the asshole. Calista was a sight in her black dress.
Skintight black dress that covered more skin than it showed.
But the high collar that covered her cleavage managed to highlight her large tits.
The hem hit innocently just below her knees, showing off her curves.
All of that before you got to her devil-red spiked heels that matched her lipstick.
Shades of black and gray on her eyelids made her eyes impossibly blue.
Whatever she’d put in her hair made the normally glossy strands gleam.
Hands down, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Made up, she was striking. And I was going to rip Amir’s arm from his body and beat him with it if he didn’t remove his hand from Calista’s lower back as he guided her through the dining room.
I could end this whole operation in the three seconds it would take me to kill him. There would be no invitation forthcoming because there would be no auction after I bled out the host in the middle of a swank, busy restaurant.
Fuck.
“Status.” Pete came through in my ear.
“Amir’s got his hand on Calista. I only got Mase from the back, but I think he’s having his own personal earthquake. Might not want to stay in the garage in case his shaking becomes such that the building crumbles.”
I said nothing in response as I followed Calli and Amir out onto the terrace.
The motherfucker didn’t drop his hand when the hostess stopped at their cozy table. There was no quiet corner but only because the dining area was circular. A quick scan of the seating made it clear Amir had the tables on either side of theirs removed for privacy.
Slick motherfucker.
Before the hostess could move away, Amir stopped her. “Clase Azul Ultra Anejo.”
Cheap motherfucker thought he could impress her with a three-thousand-dollar bottle of tequila.
“Moet it gave me time to stew. Not only that, but the unease I’d felt at the end of the night when Amir looked at Calli grew.
Men like him wouldn’t see Calista as a beautiful woman to be cherished and spoiled. They’d look at her as a trophy to be paraded after they had her cowed. They wouldn’t work themselves to the bone to make her happy and feel loved; they’d work to break her.
Thank fuck she wouldn’t have to see Amir again. She’d get her invite and pass the location to Tom and be done.
As soon as Pete let us into the penthouse, Calli made a beeline to the stairs. “I’m going to wash this shit off my face.”
I waited until she made it to the top of the stairs before I announced, “I’m going to take a shower.”
“I bet you are,” Pete mumbled. “I’ll let you know when the team gets here.”
Fuck. I forgot the team had landed and were on their way over.
I had my suit jacket off by the time I hit Calista’s bedroom door. Without knocking, I pushed in, expecting she’d already be in the bathroom. What I didn’t expect was for her to be standing in the middle of the room with her head bowed, deep breathing.
That man was no ex-boyfriend. Unless he’d hurt her, in which case I’d be heading back to the Sky View.
“Who was he?”
She righted her head, and her eyes came to mine.
Flames danced in the blue.
Gone was the sweet, pliant woman who I’d kissed a few hours ago, and back was the woman who’d greeted me in the hotel in Abu Dhabi.
Totally closed off and defiant.