7. Eli
seven
Eli
Callie winks at me and then sashays her sexy peach-shaped ass out the door. My cock jerks, and I want to punch the stupid dick for even thinking about it.
I run a hand over my face and take a deep breath.
What the fuck is happening?
Five minutes ago, I was standing here like an overprotective boyfriend, ready to strangle the life out of Callie’s producer for insulting her. Now here I am, lusting after her like a teenage boy with no control, staring at her way-to-young-for-me sexy ass, thinking about pushing her up against a wall and kissing the hell out of her.
Get a fuckin’ hold of yourself.
I knew being around her all the time was going to fuck with my head. Asking her to ride with me to the studio was a big mistake. I should have continued to keep my distance, ignoring the invisible string that seems to pull me closer to Callie the more I’m in her presence.
“Hey, are you coming or not?” I open my eyes to find Callie waiting for me at the door, gripping the frame.
I’m a ball of indescribable emotions, ready to explode, but my mouth hasn’t gotten the message. “Yep.”
I follow her into the conference room. The smell of cumin and meat makes my mouth water, but not more than the view of Callie’s cleavage as she reaches over the open chaffing dish, looking at the assortment of food spread out before her. Her eyes light up as she takes in the variety of chopped meats, toppings, taco shells, and tortillas that litter the tabletop.
Callie waves me over, a smile on her face. “Come on, slowpoke.”
DJ Reigns and his team are sitting in chairs surrounding the conference table, chatting and eating. He glances my way and nods—the universal guy code for “we’re good”. I return the gesture and sidle up to Callie, breathing in her sweet floral perfume.
Fuck, she smells so good it makes my head spin and gives my lungs a purpose to keep working.
Double fuck. I need to keep dangerous thoughts like that from popping into my head.
I shove those deep down and watch Callie pile her plate high with what looks like a makeshift taco salad. “Didn’t want tacos?” I ask.
She shrugs, scrunching her nose. “I love tacos, but I’m craving a big salad. Then, I’m going to wash it down with one of those. Maybe two.” Callie points at the pink baker’s box filled with delicious-looking white cupcakes topped with purple frosting and pink sprinkles.
Plate filled, I follow Callie to the empty seats around the conference table. “I might have to have one of those too.”
“You keep surprising me, Elijiah Miller.”
My dick perks up at the sultry way she says my name. I ignore the shameless bastard in my pants and sit down as quickly as possible, hiding the way my body reacts to her.
“Why? ’Cause they’re purple?” I tease. “Cupcakes are cupcakes, and those look fucking delicious.”
Callie laughs, and it’s all breathy and so fucking cute I want to hear it again. “No.”
“Oh, I feel an insult coming on.”
She laughs again, and an unfamiliar warmth fills my chest. “Okay, fine. It’s super judgy, but I just assumed you didn’t eat sugar, like everyone else in Hollywood.”
What the fuck?
“Where on earth would you get that idea from?” I ask.
“Have you looked in a mirror?” Her eyes widen in shock at her admission as a wide grin takes over my face. Callie’s cheeks turn pink like the sprinkles on her cupcake, and she looks so damn sweet it has me wondering how sweet she would taste if I kissed her.
Instead of pulling on that thread, I take a bite of my taco.
“If I turned into one of those ‘don’t eat meat or sugar’ assholes, my dad and brothers would kick my ass.”
She throws her head back and laughs. Her silky hair falls down her back, and visions of me wrapping the long locks around my fist assault me. “I’m glad you have people to keep you grounded. Cupcakes are one of life’s greatest joys.”
“Agree.”
We eat our dinner while chatting. I listen intently as Callie explains the studio process to me and how she is used to singing for hours at a time. She also explains how she saves her voice by drinking a special tea and resting it until the next day, sometimes not uttering a word for days. I barely get a word in, taking in every bit of information she offers.
This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had, and I hate to think we could have been doing this for the last two years. Chatting, getting to know one another.
The car comes to a screeching halt in my head. No, we couldn’t. She’s my client. I can never cross that line with her because it will only lead to me wanting more.
“Want to know a secret?” she asks with a mischievous smile, bringing me back to our conversation.
“Sure,” I mumble, unsure where this is going. As much as I enjoy getting to know Callie, I’m treading rough waters with her. Any second, she can take me under. Drown me. I need to keep reminding myself that this is as far as it will ever go with her.
Callie looks around, reminding me that there are other people in the room and we’re not in our own bubble, before crooking her finger at me to lean in. Which I do, greedy to find out her secret—and more.
“The cupcakes are for me,” she whispers.
“What?”
“The cupcakes, they’re a special order. I have a sweet tooth, and honestly…” She makes sure no one is paying attention to what she’s about to divulge. “I like to see if anyone but me eats one. It’s a little game I like to play.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head, popping her P. She lowers her voice a decibel like she’s afraid her game will be over if someone finds out. “It’s fun to watch people glance at the box, pretending they don’t want to eat a cupcake and taste all its sweet, vanilla-and-buttercream goodness.”
I cover my laugh with my fist. Holy hell, this woman is something else. Only in Hollywood would this be a game. “You’re diabolical.”
She holds her forefinger and thumb apart. “A little. But life’s too short. You have to enjoy the cupcakes before they’re gone.”
While I know she’s clearly talking about the sugary confection across the room, I can’t help but think it’s the perfect analogy for our situation. She’s the delicious-looking cupcake I can’t have.
But we can indulge in actual cupcakes.
“Hold that thought.” I get up from my seat, grab the box of cupcakes, and set it in front of us, lifting the lid. I’m not sure if the scent of vanilla from Callie or the cupcakes makes me dizzy, but I’m lightheaded and my heart is beating like a marching band bass drum in my chest. “Are you ready to make everyone jealous?”
“Hell yes.” Callie’s smile is bright, taking my breath away.
I pull out two cupcakes and hand her one. Her fingers graze mine as she takes the cupcake from my hand, and a bolt of energy soars through me at the contact.
Again, I ignore the overwhelming need to touch her and hold up the pastry. “To enjoying the cupcakes before they’re gone.”
Callie chuckles as she taps her cupcake to mine. “To enjoying the cupcakes.”
I follow her lead and peel off the wrapper before taking a bite. Vanilla, sugar, and another ingredient I can’t make out hit my tongue in an explosion of flavor.
“What do you think?” Callie licks the frosting off her top lip.
“That’s a damn good cupcake.”
The sweet smile on her lips hits me in the chest, making it pinch. I rub at the ache between my ribs with my fist as I finish the dessert, wondering if she’d taste as sweet as the frosting on this cupcake.
I look over at Callie and notice she’s stopped eating. Her cheeks look redder than a tomato, and her lips look puffier than their usual plumpness.
“Callie, are you okay?” I place my hand on her back.
“I’m not sure.” She clears her throat, a look of confusion on her face. “I think—”
Callie stands with a gasp, her hands clutching her throat. She takes two steps and falls to the ground, gulping for air.
I jump into action, rolling her over and brushing her hair off her swollen face. “Fuck! Callie. Are you having an allergic reaction?”
She nods frantically. “My … p-pur—”
I look around the room, searching for the purple bag she carries with her everywhere. I thought it was only for her journal, but I’m realizing it’s more than that.
Callie grips my arm and wheezes. “Booth.”
“Someone get her purse from the booth. Now!” I shout.
“You heard him,” DJ Reigns shouts. “Move your fucking asses!”
I hear shuffling and people talking, but I can’t make myself move away from Callie—not that I could with the way she’s clutching my forearm.
“Just hold on, Cal. I’m right here. I got you.”
She nods, her deep-brown eyes on mine.
I wipe the tears streaming down the side of her face away with my thumbs. “It’s going to be okay.”
Callie nods, but her fingers tighten on my arm.
“I’ve got it!” One of the nameless interns comes crashing through the door with Callie’s bag in their hand.
Grabbing her purse, I dump the contents onto the floor, rifling through her things. I find the device and read the side panel. Thank fuck for the pictures and bold letters. I flick the blue safety cap off.
“Hold still.” I grip Callie’s thigh with one hand and jam the orange part of the pen into it while simultaneously pressing down on the injection button. I count the longest ten fucking seconds of my life and pray that the pen is enough to get Callie breathing again.
“Should I call the ambulance?” Reigns squats down next to me.
Callie shakes her head and squeaks, “No.”
“Give her a second,” I tell Reigns. “Will you have someone put her stuff back inside her bag?”
“Sure thing, Eli.”
I sound calm and in control when I’m freaking the fuck out inside. How the hell did this happen? One minute we were laughing and talking, and the next she almost died.
“I’m right here. I’ve got you,” I assure her again.
Callie’s grip on my arm loosens, and her breathing evens out as the injection does its job. Her face is still red and swollen but looks better than it did a few minutes ago.
Thank fuck she’s okay.
Worry still clings to me around the edges. I can’t take any chances with her. She’s going to the damn hospital whether she likes it or not.
Hudson would kill me if something happened to her. As would the part of me I keep locked away from the world.
“Here you go, Mr. Miller.” The intern that brought me Callie’s purse holds it out for me.
“Thank you.” I place the strap over my shoulder and turn to Callie. “You’re not going to like what I have to say, but tough shit. I’m going to pick you up, take you to the car, and you’re going to the hospital.”
“But—”
“Nope. I’m in charge, and what I say goes. I agree, an ambulance is a mistake, but you need to be checked out.”
“Okay,” she chokes out, letting go of me.
I slide one arm under her knees and place the other behind her back, lifting her up bridal style. The ache in my chest grows as she wraps her arms around my neck and rests her head on my shoulder, eyes closed and breathing shallow.
Turning around, I face the group of music producers staring at me with wide, unsure eyes. “If anyone breathes a word of this to the press, you will be on the receiving end of my wrath. Do you understand me?”
Everyone nods, muttering in agreement.
With a weak Callie in my arms, I walk out of the conference room. Reigns catches up to us before I reach the front door.
“Eli, wait. Don’t go out the front.”
I turn around to face him, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Paparazzi sometimes camp out front.”
“Fuck.”
How could I forget that? This is why Callie didn’t want the ambulance called. She needs to be careful. People everywhere would speculate.
She stirs in my arms, and an idea forms.
“Reigns, no one can know about this,” I tell him.
“I know.”
“Not her manager, not her driver—no one.”
“You have my word. Now, what do you want me to do?”
I shift Callie so I can pull my keys out of my pocket and hand them to him. “Will you pull my car around the back?”
“For sure, man.”
“Thank you. And, uh, sorry about earlier.”
Reigns looks at Callie, whose eyes are still closed as she clings to me, then back at me and smiles. “I get it now.”
“Get what?”
Reigns shakes his head at me like I’m an idiot. “Just take care of her, okay?”
Always. The thought is unbidden but feels right. Since I’ve already showed too much of my hand, I joke, “Can’t let my best client die on me, now, can I?”
“Client? Right.” Reigns winks at me before rushing out of the building.
Turning on my heel, I ignore his comment and head for the back door.
“Eli?” Her voice is soft, bordering on a whisper.
“Yeah, Cal?”
“I don’t feel so good.”
I can’t stop myself from pulling her closer and resting my chin on top of her head. “I know, princess.” The endearment slips out but, right now, I just don’t care. I need Callie to be okay. I whisper low enough so she doesn’t hear me. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
Even in her weakened state, she has the hearing of a dog and mumbles, “Thank you for taking care of me.”
Always. The word pops into my head again. Callie can never be mine, but that doesn’t mean I won’t look out for her.
The back door opens, pulling me from my thoughts. DJ Reigns props it open for me, as I carry Callie to the car, where the front door is already open and waiting for me to place her in the front. I lower her into the seat, adjust the back so she’s lying down, and buckle her in, before placing her purse on the floor and slamming the door shut.
I shake Reign’s hand and climb into the driver’s seat, then speed out of the studio parking lot. Hitting voice command, I call in a favor from an old friend and hope like hell they can help Callie on short notice.