Chapter 20 #3
I kept reading. Margo had done exactly what Dana said she would.
She had made it beautiful without making it fake.
She did not make me look like a victim or Callum’s mistress or his toy.
She made me look like a woman worthy to be standing beside a man who had chosen not to hide her.
My throat tightened so hard I had to stop reading.
Benjamin, who noticed everything, plucked the phone from my hand. “Enough. You can spiral later in a controlled environment.”
“I wasn’t spiraling.”
“You were pre-spiraling. I have charts.”
Dana took her phone back. “Comments are mostly positive.”
“Do not read the comments,” Callum and Benjamin said at the same time.
They looked at each other.
Benjamin shuddered. “I disliked that.”
Callum smirked and shook his head.
By seven, reporters were gathering downstairs. Security called up and the PR department panicked. Marcus suggested we leave separately through the service entrance, which caused Dana to say, “Absolutely not,” so loudly I heard it from the hallway.
Callum found me in his office. He walked over and stopped near his desk with his coat over one arm, watching me.
“We can still leave separately,” he offered.
I laughed softly. “You don’t want that.”
“No.”
“But you’d do it if I asked.”
“Yes.”
I turned to face him. “I don’t want to.”
His gaze held mine. “You’re sure?”
I was not sure of anything. I was twenty-five, newly employed, recently photographed without consent, publicly linked to a billionaire who had once been my father’s best friend, and there were people downstairs hoping I would cry prettily enough to become useful footage.
I was definitely not sure. I was terrified.
I was furious. I was in love. I was exhausted enough that the floor occasionally seemed to tilt.
But certainty, I was learning, was overrated.
I stepped closer and held out my hand. Callum looked at it, then at me. Then his hand closed around mine, warm and firm and there for all to see.
Benjamin appeared in the doorway. “The car is ready. Security has cleared the front entrance. PR would like everyone to know they are brave but nauseous.”
“Thank you, Benjamin,” Callum said.
Benjamin’s gaze dropped to our joined hands. For a second, I expected a joke.
Instead, he only nodded once. “Cute.”
Dana joined us at the elevator, phone in one hand, red lipstick freshly applied like war paint. “Walk slowly,” she said.
Jules had said the same thing once, about the pencil skirt.
My heart squeezed.
I had texted her the article before I finished reading it. She had replied with seventeen crying emojis, one knife emoji, and then: proud of you. also scared. also fuck them. also, I love you.
I had sent back: I love you too.
The elevator opened into the lobby, and every conversation seemed to thin at once. The lobby was full of people, and my first instinct was to shrink back. Callum’s thumb brushed once over my knuckles. I lifted my chin and told myself to be brave.
The questions started before the doors had even finished opening.
“Ms. Hale, how do you respond to concerns about your position at Rowe Structural?”
“Mr. Rowe, has your relationship influenced your work on the Hartwell contract?”
“Are you cooperating with investigators?”
Callum did not stop in the lobby. He did not flinch. He did not let go of my hand, but at the curb, he paused just long enough for the cameras to see.
He looked down at me.
“Ready?” he asked quietly.
“For what?”
He lifted our joined hands to his mouth and pressed a slow kiss to my knuckles, deliberate enough for every camera at the curb to catch. The flashes came faster.
“For the rest of our lives,” he replied, his eyes warming.
And then there it was again, that almost-smile of his, small and devastating and mine.
He guided me into the car, then followed.
The door closed against the flash of cameras and the shouted questions, sealing us briefly into a pocket of quiet, leather, low light, and the faint cedar-dark scent of him.
My phone buzzed.
From somewhere probably three feet away and emotionally miles above us:
Benjamin: Acceptable exit. Hand placement appropriate. PR has stopped making whale noises.
I laughed so hard I nearly cried.
Callum read the message over my shoulder and shook his head. “He’s impossible.”
“He loves you.”
“He would deny that in a deposition.”
“He loves me too.”
Callum looked at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You sound pleased.”
“I am. Benjamin love is like being adopted by a suspicious cat.”
Callum’s laugh was low and tired and beautiful. The car pulled away from Rowe Tower as Callum’s hand found mine in the dark. I looked out the window at the city, daring it to judge us.
Let it, I thought. Let the city look at the billionaire builder and the woman he was with, at the men who had tried to turn desire into blackmail and failed, at the two of us walking straight through the front doors with our hands locked together. Let it look as long as it wanted.
We were done hiding.
And if the city wanted to find a problem with that, it would have to invent one better than love.