6. Callie
six
Callie
My body tingles, and little bubbles fizzle in my stomach with anticipation and excitement as I rush through my shower. My clit pulses thinking about Eli waiting outside my dressing room, ready to take me to the studio.
Ignoring the need to touch myself, I turn off the water, grab my towel, and dry off as quickly as I can. I replay the sound of Eli’s deep, warm voice in my head.
“Do you want to ride with me?”
With the way his alluring eyes widened in surprise at his own question, I should have said no, but I couldn’t resist saying yes.
I blame him and his damn forearm porn. When he started rolling up his shirt sleeves, I was done for. The neurons in my brain misfired, my body temperature rose to an unbearable degree, and I couldn’t stop myself from agreeing.
Being near Elijiah Miller does things to me. Good or bad things? I don’t know, but I want to find out.
Even when Eli’s being a total asshat and insulting, he ignites a fire inside me that burns furiously. It’s a confusing-as-hell mix of rage and lust, and I don’t know whether I want to slap him or kiss him. I’ve never felt that with anyone before. I know I should stay away from him. He’s older. I work with him. Silla would kill me. The list goes on, but he has this invisible pull on me.
From the moment Eli stopped me from falling flat on my face, my heart decided on him.
I’ve fought my feelings by keeping my distance. It was easy since Hudson is my agent, but with him gone and Eli taking his place, I’m finding it hard to stay away. Since he spied on me in my dressing room and said, “ You sounded beautiful. You should sing like that more often, ” all my thoughts have led back to him.
One little compliment, and Eli’s slipped through the tiniest crack in my walls.
I’m under constant scrutiny from the public, my manager, and myself, and I can’t remember the last time someone genuinely complimented my voice. His words were exactly what I needed to hear in that moment, when my heart was open and raw. He reminded me why I sing and whom I sing for.
After lotioning my face and body, I slip on a pair of dark-blue skin-tight jeans, a white crop tank and a matching flowy sheer blouse over, and my Doc Martens. I’m not big on makeup when I’m not performing—and my skin appreciates the occasional breather—so I only smear on a touch of mascara and lip gloss. To finish my outfit, I slide my mom’s gold bangles onto my wrist. I grab my journal and place it in my bag before picking up my hoodie and heading for the door.
As I step out of my dressing room, I find Eli whispering to my driver, Mike. I take a second to appreciate the sight before me. Looking hot as hell, Eli runs his hand over his chin as he listens to whatever Mike is telling him. Eli could be a suit model with the way his jacket drapes over his forearm. His other hand rests in his pocket as his laptop bag hangs over his shoulder, pulling at his shirt and accentuating his firm, broad chest. His perfectly tailored slacks mold flawlessly to his round butt.
Ugh, why does he have to look so good?
Eli notices me standing in the hallway, and I pray he didn’t see me gawking at him. He excuses himself and walks toward me. “Took you long enough.”
Ignoring his snarky remark, I watch my driver hurriedly disappear down the hall. Weird . “Is everything okay with Mike?”
“Yep.” His clipped tone has me confused and a little annoyed.
Did he change his mind about driving me? “Care to elaborate on why Mike rushed out of here?”
“Nope.”
I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for him to give me a proper answer. He matches my stance, his eyes on mine, and waits. When he doesn’t crack, I ask, “Anyone ever tell you you’re annoyingly frustrating?”
“All the time. I have three brothers,” he says, revealing new information about himself.
“There are three more of you?” I blurt. I cover my mouth with my hands, and my cheeks heat.
Shut up, Callie. That was so freaking rude .
To my surprise, Eli throws his head back and laughs. I’ve seen him chuckle and smile, talking to people at parties and red-carpet events, but this is the first time I have ever heard him laugh—like, a genuine laugh—and it’s … sexy.
My clit does that little pulse thing between my legs. I am so screwed.
“Not exactly. I mean, we all look the same, but our personalities are very different.” Eli reaches for my bag. “Here. Let me?”
“Umm, sure.”
Before I can hand him my purse, he reaches for the strap. His fingers graze my shoulder, and the heat from his touch sears my skin the same way it did two years ago. I inhale a sharp breath and bite my lip, holding back the moan his illicit touch evokes.
Eli clears his throat. “We better hurry.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Without touching, Eli and I make our way through the concert hall side by side. Like a gentleman, he holds the door open for me. I exit the building to find an oversized SUV, which I assume is his, running at the curb. Again, Eli opens the door for me to climb inside.
His car smells new and like him—all rich and masculine. He walks around the front of the car with a scowl on his face. His eyes search for something, so I follow his gaze. Idling behind his car is my driver.
Eli opens the back door first, and places our bags and his jacket on the seat before climbing into the front seat. He glances my way and reaches over me, taking me by surprise. His masculine cologne floods my nose, and the delicious scent makes me dizzy.
In a protective move I never thought I’d experience, Eli takes the seat belt in his hand and pulls it across my chest, buckling me in.
What in the …
“I could have done that myself.” I try my damnedest to sound indignant, but my words come out low and breathless. My heart is rioting in my chest at Eli’s closeness and his weird yet sweet behavior.
Get a hold of yourself, woman.
Eli must see my clashing thoughts in my expression. “Hey, are you okay?” He sounds concerned.
Who is this man? This is not the Eli I know. This guy is chivalrous and respectful … and it’s giving me emotional whiplash.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “Yeah, why?”
“You have this weird look I can’t decipher on your face.”
I glance over to find him staring at me as his penetrating gaze searches my face for answers. His mismatched eyes see too much. They are too close to decoding all my secrets.
I look away. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”
“If you say so.” Eli puts the car in drive and exits the parking lot.
We sit in silence as he weaves through the LA traffic, north, towards Hollywood, where the recording studio is located. There’s plenty of traffic at this time of day—any day, really, in Los Angeles—and I can’t help but notice how quiet his car is.
“Is this car a hybrid?”
“No, electric. Why?”
I bite back my smile. “I’m just surprised, is all.”
“At?”
“The fact that you drive an electric car and not a Bentley. I’m impressed.”
“What, I can’t care about the environment? Now, who’s judging?” He’s referring to our first meeting when he insulted me .
“Sorry,” I mumble, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. I didn’t like it when he judged me, so I shouldn’t judge him, but I can’t help myself. I’ve had this idea of him in my head for so long. Rude, cocky, flashy. I’m starting to see how off base I was about him.
“Relax, Callie. I’m kidding.” He lets out a low, deep chuckle. The sound hits me in my center, and I rub my thighs together. “You’re close, though. I used to drive a Maserati.”
Now, it’s my turn to chuckle. “Well, I’m glad you don’t anymore. May I ask what made you switch?”
“It’s more of a who.”
“Oh.” My heart flutters, and my breath catches in my throat.
Does Eli have a secret wife and kids? I can’t stop my eyes from glancing at his left hand. Empty. Doesn’t mean he’s single.
“Yeah, my nephew,” he says proudly, a smile pulling at his mouth. “When he’s in town visiting, I like to take him out—just the two of us—and having a two-seater sports car wasn’t practical.”
I let out a slow exhale as relief floods my chest. I like this side of Eli. He’s the charming guy I see talking to everyone but me. “That’s sweet of you. I bet he enjoys hanging out with his uncle.”
“He does. He’s a spoiled little shit, but I love him.”
My stomach somersaults at visions of Eli with his nephew. I bet he’s an amazing uncle. Fun but protective. “He’s lucky to have you.”
“Thanks. So, what about you?”
“What about me?” I ask, deflecting his question. It’s a knee-jerk reaction after Silla’s conditioning. I’m not allowed to answer questions about my family.
“I told you about my family. What about yours? Got any siblings?”
None that count. “No.”
My palms sweat and my lungs freeze because I’m afraid of what he’s going to ask next.
“It’s for the best. Siblings are nothing but trouble.”
Don’t I know it. I force a laugh. “So, tell me more about these brothers. Are any of them single?”
“No,” he snaps immediately. Eli’s lips purse as his eyes slide my way, his jaw ticking.
Was that a hint of jealousy?
“No, you don’t want to tell me more? Or no, they aren’t single.” I grin.
His knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel. It looks like I’m ruffling his feathers with these questions. Good. Why should I be the only one affected by this weirdness between us?
“No, they aren’t single. Even if they were, they’re too old for you.”
I wave him off. “Oh please, age is nothing but a number. My dad was ten years older than my mom when they got married.”
Fuck.
I’m usually good about not bringing up my family history, but here I am, fifteen minutes into a car ride with Eli, and I’m dropping information he should never have.
The car falls silent.
Thankfully, Eli pulls into Pink Pony Studio’s parking lot. He parks, and before he can turn off the car, I unsnap my seat belt and throw open the door to make an escape.
“Fuck, Callie. Wait up.”
I ignore his plea and rush into the studio.
Drowning myself in soulless music sounds way more appealing than letting Eli crack open another piece of the brick facade I am forced to live behind.
The recording light turns off, and the intercom clicks over. I brace myself because I already know what my music producer is going to say.
“That sounds good, Callie, but let’s do it again. I need you to sound more … energetic. You’re too flat, and we need this track to be up,” Reigns says. He’s trying to be nice, but I can hear the frustration in his voice.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Eli grumbles.
I bite back a smile. My agent looks grumpy and pissed off, standing in the background, but it’s clear this is Eli’s first time in a recording studio. He can’t tell that I’m off my game tonight and that it’s all his fault.
Letting that bit of information about my parents slip has me on edge. Eli is the type of man who likes to know everything about everyone. He thrives on being the guy with all the answers and information. He’s a fixer. It’s a part of his agent persona. It can’t be easy for him to know very little about my life. I still wonder how he figured out my real name.
I shake my head clear and answer Reigns, “Okay. Count me in.”
“No. She’s sung the same damn song for the last three hours, and it sounds exactly the fucking same.” I can hear Eli’s frustration in the deep timbre of his voice.
The intercom switches off, and the sound booth falls silent. I fight the laugh bubbling up inside. Eli is wrong. Okay, half wrong. While I’ve sung about ten different songs, they all sound the same.
Any singer would die to make music with Reigns, but my heart isn’t into it. None of these songs are mine.
Eli points his finger at DJ Reigns’s face as he argues with him. I almost feel bad for Reigns because he really is a good guy and a great music producer, but it’s been so long since someone has stood up for me. It feels kind of nice having someone in my corner.
Hudson understands music, so he would just grab a bottle of water and pump me up. Silla would never dream of standing up for me. She dips into these sessions to make sure I’m being the obedient little client she wants before leaving me to fend for myself.
My stomach rumbles, and I take this as my signal to take a break and help calm my agent down. No one notices me taking off my headphones and leaving the booth until I’m standing in the room, listening to Reigns and Eli bicker.
I lean a hip against the soundboard until everyone’s eyes fall on me. I plaster on a bright smile and look at Reigns. “Mind if I take a break? I’m getting a little hungry, and I think my agent needs a minute.”
Reigns nods. “Yeah, I could use a minute myself.” He stands up and stretches. “Alright, people, you heard Callie. Let’s take a break for dinner. Everyone be back in thirty.”
“Thanks, Reigns.”
He gives me a tentative smile. “No problem.” He looks back at Eli, who is glowering at him, before leaning in and whispering into my ear, “He’s intense.”
I cover my smile with my fist and nod. “He’s new to music.”
“Gotcha. Catering is in the conference room.” Reigns pats my shoulder before leaving the booth.
Eli’s gaze narrows in on the friendly gesture, like the way it did earlier when my back up dancer Josh placed his hand on the small of my back.
His stormy eyes flicker with a covetous heat directed at me. A flutter zips through me. Eli isn’t looking at me like an agent would. No, this is the look of an overprotective, bordering-on-jealous boyfriend.
Am I reading into this too much? Maybe.
But when my eyes met Eli’s from across the room earlier at rehearsals, I could almost imagine him stomping over and ripping Josh’s hand off me. Usually, Josh’s touch is harmless, but this time was different. For some odd reason, I didn’t like him laying his hand on me in front of Eli. I immediately, and as kindly as I could, stepped away. I don’t want Eli to think something is going on with Josh.
That will never happen. Ever.
Josh lost any chance at something with me when he slept with the Devil. Josh thinks I don’t know, but I do. Silla is a gloater. Aside from Hudson and Eli, there isn’t a guy in my life she hasn’t slept with or paid off. She’s twisted in ways I don’t understand or want to know. It’s sad, but there is no love lost between us; too much has happened.
Once everyone has left, I turn to Eli and can see the riotous storm brewing in his eyes.
“So, what was all that about?” I ask.
Eli might be curt and rude to me, but I have never seen him behave this way with other clients or people. He’s always so likeable, way too charismatic for his own good. This is out of character for him.
“Nothing. That guy is full of shit. You sounded fine. Better than fine.” Eli turns around, and his shoulders move in time with his heavy breaths.
“It’s not nothing,” I admit.
“Leave it alone, Callie. Please?”
I probably should, but I can’t. I can take care of myself, but it’s nice to have someone watching out for me, even if it’s over something trivial, like singing the same song over and over. “Thank you. No one has ever stuck up for me like that.”
“You’re welcome.” He waves me off over his shoulder, still refusing to face me.
My feet move on instinct, putting me behind Eli. I can feel the heat of his body from where I stand, inches away. I place a hand on his wrist, and a jolt of heat shoots up my arm and hits me right in the stomach.
“Calliope,” he grunts. Every time he says my full name in his thick and gritty voice, it’s like a hit right to my heart. And I welcome it.
“Elijiah.” His name tastes lush on my tongue.
“Don’t,” he warns, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.
Even though every fiber of my being is telling me not to, I heed his warning and drop my hold on his wrist.
The room feels electric, charged with this strange energy that I know will be dangerous if I pursue it so soon.
“Please, Eli, can we just go get some dinner? Reigns said there’s catering in the conference room.” My stomach picks the perfect time to grumble even louder than before, garnering Eli’s attention.
He turns around and smiles. “You really were hungry.”
I shrug, ignoring the way his soft smile hits me in the chest. “I don’t lie about food. All the dancing makes me hungry.”
Eli gestures towards the door. “Then let’s get you fed.”
My stomach twists, and I have a feeling my body is hungry for a lot more than food. I push those thoughts away and shoot Eli a wink. “I like the sound of that.”
I turn on my heel and add a little extra sway in my hips, just for him, as I walk out the door in search of food.