Chapter 30 BETH
BETH
I was insane.
I missed Callan.
I missed his softness, his gentle words, and the way his cheeks would tint when I said something nice. The way he would look at me like I was the most interesting thing he had ever come across.
I didn’t want this man sitting next to me. I didn’t want to hear his cold detached voice. I didn’t want his firm callous hand that had touched me like I was his to claim.
“Can I go home instead?” I asked, my voice slithering through the tense air, breaking the silence that had been weighing between us.
He hadn’t uttered a word since I stepped into the car. He hadn’t stated the reason why he decided to be my chauffeur. He hadn’t made known the terms of my presence here right now.
His jaw had been locked instead, lips in a firm line as he scrolled through the iPad. Callan’s iPad.
He seemed angry, very irritated, but was holding it in. I wondered who made him angry. I just hoped it wasn’t me. I didn’t have the strength for his ridiculousness.
I took a deep breath as if about to make a speech, “I have a project due tomorrow and need to work on it.”
I actually did have a project. To make a light bulb. Kenzo would make it, of course. And it wasn’t due until next Wednesday.
“No, you can’t.” His reply was curt, sharp like the edges of a blade.
That spiked something bitter at the pit of my stomach, the taste crawling up only to settle on my tongue…a tangy, sharp thing.
“I’m sure I have a choice.” My fingers clenched on my thigh, but I didn’t raise my voice. “I’d rather go home.”
“You’re not going home,” he stated again, like this was a law I mustn’t dare to question further.
I didn’t know why I suddenly got so triggered and irritated. Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was my period coming. Or maybe I just got fed up with how he kept pushing me around, forcing his rules on me.
Why wasn’t Callan trying hard enough? Why was he so comfortable sitting there and letting this annoying version roam freely?
Had he really been smothered by him? Was he actually gone for good?
Then what was really the point of sitting here?
I didn’t want this thing sitting next to me.
He was cruelty personified, a devil camouflaged in designer clothes.
He was reckless and lacked warmth. The only reason I wanted to stick around was because I was waiting for Callan.
If he wasn’t coming back, what was the point?
“Hey.” My burning eyes cut sharply to the driver, tapping the back of his seat. “Please, turn the car around.”
The soldier whose face I had barely registered, glanced at me through the mirror, hard cobalt eyes lacking the littlest of emotion, sending chills down my spine. But that didn’t make me waver.
Perhaps my next move was what truly made me appear like a kid throwing a tantrum. I leapt out of my seat, slithering through the crack between the driver and passenger seat, my fingers curling around the wheel, forcing it to stir in the opposite direction.
The tyre skidded, scraping the asphalt, a sharp sound hissing through the air.
Then suddenly, a yelp tore from the back of my throat when a cold hand wrapped around my neck from behind, the force so cathartic it ripped my fingers off the wheel, swinging me backward until my back hits the leather of my seat.
Before I could dare to recover from the whiplash of the fleeting force, Zaghan’s hand had moved from my neck, my jaw now being crushed beneath the weight of his fingers, sharp nails digging into my soft flesh. He was hurting me…and smearing my concealer.
His eyes were the darkest I had seen them, a storm that promised nothing but destruction roaring in their depths.
“Maybe we haven’t really met…” His breath was harsh against my lips. “But let me tell you, I won’t give a damn about how hard you scream or how loud you beg. I will break your pretty little neck if you tried this stunt you just pulled now ever again. Do you get it?”
My lips parted for words but all I could produce was a gentle nod.
“Put that pretty mouth to use.” His nails dug deeper into my flesh. “Do you hear me?!” His voice was a guttural roar that shattered every ounce of confidence and bravery left in me.
I agreed. That was a stupid move.
“Yes.” So timid was the whisper, I doubted he heard it.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his finger loosening from my jaw, his palm patting my cheek gently.
What a psychopath and a douchebag!
Without another word, he settled back on his seat, his hand lifting to loosen his tie.
???
Arriving at the Callan’s guesthouse brought back memories, memories that made me smile yet made my chest tighten. I didn’t want to be here if it wasn’t with Callan. So I sulked, blocking out the world around me as I reluctantly followed him into the building.
Then suddenly, the phone in my hand vibrated with an incoming call. I glanced at Zaghan, but he was way ahead of me, lost in his own phone, so I decided to answer the call before heading in.
Releasing my arms from across my chest, I checked the caller’s details.
Rowan.
Bad timing.
This had to be the third time he was calling me today. He called while I was on my way to school. He called during lunch, and now he was calling to make sure I had closed from school for the day.
Actually, he had been calling for a very long time now when I never replied to any of his texts. Then yesterday, I spontaneously replied to the text. I had no idea why I did that. I just did.
We talked for a while. He said he wanted to meet, to talk properly. And frankly speaking, I felt that was a good idea too. We needed to talk. That seemed to be the only way both of us could move on, get closure.
He asked when we could meet again. And I vaguely promised to meet him at the new coffee shop built opposite the old Fitz’s Lit and Brew. I forgot to cancel after Zaghan showed up earlier this morning. I actually forgot I had outstanding plans.
It was currently 3:05. This meant he was already there, waiting for me. But I obviously couldn’t see him now. Because here I was, with another man who was nothing like the prince charming Rowan McRae could have been to me.
The phone continued to ring away, and I could almost see his desperation in every vibration.
I snuck a peek at Zaghan again. He was by the little bar in the living room, pouring whiskey into a glass.
I still had time.
I would just tell him I cancelled. It would be horrible to leave him just sitting there and waiting. I would just reschedule.
“Hey,” I whispered hesitantly into the speaker when I was successfully out of earshot.
“Oh, hey.” The excitement in his voice crushed me. My eyes snapped shut as guilt washed over me.
“You are at the shop, aren’t you?” I asked, biting my lower lip nervously, kicking at invisible pebbles.
“Yeah.” His reply deflated me. “Been here for about fifteen minutes.” Then he let’s out a chuckle.
“Shit,” I cussed under my breath.
“Is there a problem?” he inquired, disappointment already registering in his voice.
“Yeah…” I trailed off, my gaze staring into the distance. “Rowan look, I don’t think I can make it.”
“Oh.”
“I’m so sorry.” My apology could definitely not expel what he was feeling, but that was all I got for now. “Something urgent came up.”
“Oh,” he whispered, disappointed.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Is everything okay, though?” he asked, his voice calm, concerned.
“Yeah, yeah.” I scratched the back of my neck, bouncing on my heels. “Everything is uh, it’s good.”
“I see.” He sounded wistful.
“Maybe tomorrow, same time?” I offered. I actually did want to see him. I really needed to clear the air at this point. Tell him to move on or something.
Actually, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. If investing my emotions in Callan who had gone missing in action, and his psycho brother, who had clearly taken hold of his body, was a bad bargain, I needed a safety net. And I didn’t see any candidate better than Rowan.
“Tomorrow sounds fine,” he murmured, voice bright again.
“Cool.”
“So, see you tomorrow then?” He sounded really hopeful.
“Yes, definitely.”
“Okay, bye, um…” he trailed off, hesitating, as if the next word that sat on his tongue was a bomb he wasn’t sure if he should throw. “Love you.”
I shouldn’t reply, especially when I was in the enemy’s territory. But it was all instinct at that moment, like I was teleported to the past, a phone conversation between us about to end.
“Yeah, um, lov–”
But I couldn’t even finish the legendary line as my cell phone was ripped from my ear by fingers that left a scathing scratch on my cheek.
I didn’t even have to turn to look at the person to know who it was. The invisible dark smoke that swirled around his existence already wrapped around me.
And when I eventually turned to acknowledge him, his eyes were glaring daggers into the screen of my phone, his jaws hard, twitching, I feared his teeth might snap.
“Give it back,” I said softly, stretching my hand for the phone.
His gaze shifted from the screen, and without glancing at me, he dropped the phone on the concrete floor.
Everything blurred first.
What?
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Shock and anger wove tightly into my tone as I fumed.
But there was not a trace of remorse as he walked away like nothing happened. He even made it a point to step on the phone as he went.
How could someone be so tall and handsome but be so ridiculously immature?…And annoying?
Shifting my gaze from his retreating form, I rushed for my phone, something I had been afraid to do, too scared to see the damage.
Evidently, the phone’s screen was all cracked up pretty badly. But when I swiped my finger across the said screen, it still worked. Well, there was a weird colouring like strands of threads at the corner. But it still worked. A screen replacement should fix this.
Still, this damage wasn’t something I bargained for. I didn’t wake up today making plans to spend money on phone repairs. The thought reignited my rage so I trudged after him.