2. Chapter 2
Callahan
“Ten thousand if you can get me into the cams at Primo Ballet on Ninth and Adams.”
The line was silent for a moment. “Uh, not that I’m not willing,” Nate said as his keyboard clicked in the background. “But…why?”
“I don’t pay you to ask me questions, Nate. Just do it.”
“Oooh, growly Cal today. You know growly Cal is my favorite.”
Despite my irritation at the fact that I couldn’t get the little blonde out of my head, I laughed at his harmless flirting. “Growly Cal would like you more if you’d get him into the cams so he could spy on a little blonde ballerina.”
Nate faked a gasp. “Oh, be still my broken heart! A woman?! How could you do this to me?” His keyboard clicked some more and a burst of feminine laughter echoed faintly down the line. He huffed an annoyed sound and I arched my eyebrow.
“It’s all fun and games, until it isn’t anymore. When are you gonna nut up and tell the man you’re in love with him, Nate?”
Nate growled. “Never, and you’re not going to tell him, either, you insufferably nosey Irishman.”
“Oooh, growly Nate,” I threw back at him. It successfully eased his tension and he breathed a small laugh.
“Okay, man, the feed’s being sent to your cell. Also, would you mind telling me why you’re parked outside Primo and spying through their cams? Who’s the blonde? She’s pretty, I guess, if you’re into the fairer sex. Also, why were you outside women’s boutique shops all afternoon?” Before I could respond, he gasped. “Bro, are you stalking, my friend? When did you become a stalker? How long have you been following her? OH! And she was at Thai Moon earlier?”
I growled again, irritated for the first time with his computer skills and ability to find anyone, anything, anywhere, and he laughed loudly, hanging up before I could answer him. I opened the text he sent through and clicked on the link. The video feed of a ballet studio filled my screen. The little blonde from Thai Moon was the only person in there, other than an elderly woman who circled her critically as she danced.
I swallowed convulsively and watched her move around the floor in smooth, fluid movements. Her grace was mesmerizing. There was no pause between movements, one flowing smoothly into the next and the next. My eyes refused to leave the screen as I watched her dance. My chest felt funny and my breathing sped up. I was no stranger to attraction, but this was different. I wasn’t just simply attracted to her.
I wanted her. I wanted her in the way a drunk wants alcohol. I wanted to possess her. I wanted to be in the same room as her for the rest of my life. I wanted to hear her voice and know what her laughter felt like beneath my fingers as I caressed the beautiful curve of her neck. I wanted to know her mind and understand her emotions. I wanted to follow her for hours just for the chance to see her glowing hair and pretty eyes and watch her cute little nose scrunch up just like it had when we’d locked eyes at Thai Moon.
Is this obsession? Is this what Lorcan meant all those years ago when he told me I’d ‘just know.’”
The older woman circling my little ballerina held out her hand and she stopped, holding the position she was in. The instructor raised her cane and tapped on the ballerina’s elbow, nudging her arm up an inch before she tapped her on the back of the knee. The little ballerina with the glowing blonde hair winced as she adjusted her position and the irrational urge to murder the little old lady hit me so hard in the gut that I had to grip the door handle to stop myself from running in there.
I watched her through her entire practice or routine or whatever ballet was called. Her skirt was loose and flared around her hips as she spun in circles. Her legs were encased in black tights and she wore those strange ballet shoes that had ribbons wrapped up around her calves. Her upper body was clad in a clingy material that shaped her curves and hid nothing. Her blonde hair that glowed under the bright studio lights seemed to almost be its own light source against the black clothing she wore.
My breathing was fast, my cock was hard, but I couldn’t look away. Not until she hugged the old lady and grabbed a large bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she made her way out of the room. I quickly clicked through the camera feeds until I found her again, walking down a hallway. She disappeared behind a door and I clicked through the feeds again. It must’ve been a changing room though, because I couldn’t find her again until she reemerged from behind the door. I followed her on the different feeds until she exited the front door and I could see her in person.
Her eyes locked on my car and her brow furrowed as she took a step backward towards the door of the ballet studio. Her hand tightened anxiously on the strap of her big duffle bag as she looked up and down the street, until her eyes met mine through the cracked window. Her look of fear morphed into confusion and her brow furrowed, her nose wrinkling in that adorable manner again. She took a step back towards the car and I muttered quietly for my driver to “Go”. The car pulled smoothly away from the curb, my eyes never leaving the warm honey colored ones that now held my full attention until we were fully past her.
“Where to, Cal?” Seamus asked.
“The office. I need to finish some last minute plans for security this weekend.” I opened my banking app and transferred the thousand to Nate’s account. Then I thought for a moment and transferred five more before sending him a text.
Me: Get me a list of all the female dancers enrolled at Primo. If they aren’t blonde, I don’t care about them. Today.
Nate: Do you one better. Took some liberties…
A moment later, a profile on a woman named Alyssa Thompson came through, along with an alert that the five thousand had been denied.
I opened the file and an image filled the screen. Pale skin, hair like moonlight and mesmerizing eyes.
Alyssa. I repeated it in my head but for some reason, the name left me unsettled. I didn’t like it, because it didn’t seem fitting. I couldn’t explain why because what the hell did I know about what her name should have been. I emailed myself the file, transferred the five thousand back to Nate and slipped my phone into my pocket as I exited the car. The receptionist greeted me and scurried off to get me a coffee. When she set it on the corner of my desk, I thanked her and powered on my computer.
She lingered, as she usually did, and plopped her arse on my desk. She leaned on my desk in a way that was supposed to be enticing but made me want to roll my eyes. I made a show of ignoring her, reaching for my coffee and focusing on my screen.
I pulled up my email and opened the file on Alyssa Thompson. There were several pictures, many snippets from playbills, a short biography about her dance career and a copy of a background check. Within three minutes, I’d been through the whole file and texted Nate back.
Me: Is this all there is?
Nate: Yep. Couldn’t find much on her. Seems her parents are dead, she doesn’t socialize much, the address on her ID is vacant and there are no utility bills in her name. The only thing I could find any kind of pattern in is her rehearsals. She shows up at Primo every Monday at 3 and every Thursday at 5:30.
I frowned and ran my hand over my beard. Valerie’s hands landed on my shoulders and she rubbed her thumbs into my muscles.
“You seem stressed today, Cal. Let me help you?”
I shrugged her hands off my shoulders and scowled at her. “I’ve told you a hundred fecking times, Valerie. It’s not happening. I don’t ride my employees. And even if I did, I wouldn’t choose you. Get back to work.”
Her mouth pinched as if she was fighting an annoyed frown but she stomped out of my office. I closed out of Alyssa’s file and opened my plans for the security at the engagement party this weekend.
I shuddered at the thought of the fecking engagement. I knew it was necessary. I knew I had to marry the Marino girl in order to achieve the peace treaty. But Christ if she didn’t give me the fecking heeby-jeebies. She was overly-forward - and not in a good way. She was always trying to touch me and she was way too excited for an arranged marriage to someone with my reputation.
I arranged and rearranged our security, making sure Lorcan would be heavily protected. My uncle was getting old and, even though I was certain he could still protect himself if needed, I wasn’t taking any chances with his life. The man had raised me after my mother died, taught me everything I know. I owed him everything and he would be protected, no matter what.
It wasn’t until late in the evening that I felt comfortable enough with the security arrangements and had finally finished going over the profits from the last fight night. My phone had buzzed several times, but I’d ignored it while I focused on business. I pulled it out and scrolled through the notifications.
Nate, 6:43 p.m.: These might interest you…
The attachment was a couple images of Alyssa getting into an old beater of a car, walking around some shops with the same brunette from earlier, and then a file attachment about her. Charlotte Black, daughter of Senator Adam Black. Nothing really caught my eye other than the images of Alyssa. I clicked out of the texts and went to the next.
Ebony, 7:58 p.m.: Lorcan would like to know when you’re coming home. He wishes to discuss something over dinner.
Ebony, 8:31 p.m.: I’ll tell him you’re still working.
I cursed under my breath, feeling guilt lodge behind my chest at leaving Lorcan alone for dinner.
Me, 8:51 p.m.: Shite. Tell him I’m on my way.
The next messages made my lip curl.
Marino, 6:19 p.m.: My daughter would like your input on wedding colors.
Marino, 6:32 p.m.: And the seating arrangement for this saturday.
Marino, 7:22 p.m.: And apparently your opinion on her wedding dress options is needed immediately.
I clicked out of his messages without responding, because, honestly, I really didn’t give a rat’s arse about her dress or where people sat or what colors she used to decorate the shite excuse of a wedding.
I left my office and told Seamus to take me home, chuckling to myself about how irritated Marino and his daughter would be at being ignored while I set a reminder on my phone for Thursday at 5:00 p.m. with only one word.
Primo.