5. Chapter 5
Rory
The deep voice startled me and I jumped, my head snapping up and eyes meeting with the pale green of Callahan’s.
His eyes took in my face and a half a second after I raised my head he growled loudly. “Who did that to you?”
I stared at him in stunned silence, my brain working to form a response. Instead, what came out was, “How did you get in here?”
He tilted his head to the curtain behind him. “The curtain. Who did that to you?” he asked again.
“No-nobody. It was…just an accident.”
He stalked towards me with large, wide strides. Despite the fact that we were alone in the small changing room and he was twice my size and at least a hundred pounds heavier than me…I didn’t feel intimidated by him. I didn’t feel threatened as he stopped in front of me, eyes locked on the light bruise throbbing on the left side of my face.
But still, as he reached to run his thumb over the spot, I jerked my head away, eyes going to the hand raised in front of my face in confusion. Our eyes met for a moment before he reached forward and touched my face with the tips of his fingers.
Tingles skittered across my skin and his fingers trembled as if he felt it too. The air seemed electrified around us and the tiny hairs on my arms stood up. I shivered under the intensity.
He slid his hand from my cheek, down my neck, and into the hair hanging over my shoulder. He rubbed it between his fingers before growling under his breath.
“I don’t like that someone did that to you.” His eyes seemed to sharpen with focus and he traced his fingers back up my neck, curling one behind the curve of my jawbone under my ear. It was a strange thing to do, and yet one of the most intimate touches I’d ever felt.
I took a shuddering breath. “I told you-”
“Do not lie to me, mo solas beag.”
My brow furrowed. “What does that mean? Is that Irish?”
“It’s just a nickname. Doesn’t really have much meaning.” But something in his tone belied his words. It had meaning, and he didn’t want to tell me.
He licked his lower lip and my breath hitched as my gaze tracked his pink tongue tracing the curve of his lower lip. He had surprisingly feminine lips, pink and curved and plump. He took a step closer to me, sliding his hand around the back of my neck and tilting his head down.
His wavy black hair fell onto his forehead and his lips quirked to the side. His goatee flirted with a dimple in his left cheek and I swear I felt the room heat. His thumb brushed that spot under my ear again as he lowered his head.
Butterflies took up in my stomach, shivers cascading down my spine in waves. I felt his breath ghost along my lips. He smelled like whiskey and expensive cologne - something woodsy and dark.
His lips barely brushed mine, his goatee tickling my upper lip. I sighed and he pressed his lips fully against mine.
And then Elio’s voice came over the sound system, thanking everyone for attending and panic rushed through my system. I jerked away from Callahan and took a gasping breath.
“Rory-”
“I have to go!” I turned and grabbed the strap of my duffle bag, taking off at a run towards the back door in the same movement. Something thudded to the ground but I didn’t stop or look back to see what it was. I let the door slam behind me as I scurried across the parking lot to my car.
Heavy knocking on my bedroom door woke me up. It was late, well past midnight, and I didn’t know who would bother me this late.
I padded to the door, expecting to see Elio or Fern, but when I opened it, Marco, Elio’s bodyguard, was standing there. I frowned in confusion. “Can I help you, Marco?”
“Follow me,” he said simply.
So Elio wanted to see me. I sighed and followed him through the house, stopping in front of Elio’s study. Marco rapped on the door twice and opened it, allowing me to pass. He followed me in and closed the door behind himself.
Elio sat behind his desk, quickly closing a file and slipping it into the drawer in the middle of his desk. He locked it and laid the key on the desk before folding his hands over his large belly.
“So, you know Callahan?” he said conversationally.
“No, sir, I don’t. He stopped me to compliment my dancing. I thanked him and left. You saw the exchange. It was just polite conversation, Elio.” I kept my tone neutral and unaffected.
He hummed before he rubbed his fingers over the back of his other hand. “He seemed rather comfortable with you this evening. You say you’ve never spoken to him before?”
“No, I haven’t. As I told you, I met him this evening and had a polite conversation with him. The same conversation I had with every other attendee who stopped me to thank me for the entertainment.”
Elio pursed his lips thoughtfully before he frowned slightly. I shifted on my feet, uncomfortable with the look on his face. He blinked at me before narrowing his eyes and looking over my shoulder. He gave a slight nod and hot, clammy hands gripped my upper arms tightly.
Dewey sweat broke out across the back of my neck and I bit back a whimper. “Elio, what’s going on? I told you, I don’t know Mr. Byrne. I’ve heard you and Fern speak about him and that’s the extent of my knowledge.”
“Well, you see, Aurora, I have plans in motion. Big plans that I can’t risk you messing up. You and Callahan seemed familiar and that makes me think that perhaps you’ve spoken to him before. If you’ve spoken to him before, you’d have done so behind my back, or I would know about it.” My breaths shuttered in my lungs as fear gripped me tightly. “If you’re speaking with someone behind my back, that means you’re hiding something from me and we can’t have that.”
Marco’s hands tightened on my arms as I tried to pull away. He turned me and led me to the billiards table on the other side of the room. By now, I knew the routine and fisted my hands tightly as I dropped to my knees beside the table, stretching my arms across the maroon felt. Marco grabbed them from the other side, just as he had done many times before. Carlo stepped out of the shadows and his belt buckle clanked.
My back burned with the memory of the pain of these lashings and I gritted my teeth as I looked at Marco with hatred in my eyes.
Usually, he was emotionless and empty, but as he held my arms, his eyes were passionate. They seemed to hold secrets and messages, ones that he was trying to relay to me without words. His jaw ticked as his teeth ground when he looked over my shoulder.
I stared at him, trying to decipher his secrets until my thoughts were interrupted by fiery pain. I gritted my teeth, dug my fingernails into Marco’s wrists, and refused to cry out.