15. Eli
fifteen
Eli
I’m surprised I didn’t get pulled over by the cops for speeding the entire way from Santa Monica to Hollywood.
I don’t know if it was the anger or worry that had me pressing down on the gas, but as I pull my car into the alley behind the club where Boone directed me to park, I’m fuming.
Why the fuck did Callie come here? She was supposed to go home.
I fly out of my car like an enraged monster, ready to destroy anything in my path to get to her.
A hulking dude in a black suit, with a buzz cut, opens the back door for me. “Can I help you?”
“Boone called me,” is all I can grind out. My chest heaves like I’ve just run a marathon, and adrenaline courses through my system, turning me into a furious animal.
“Miller?”
I nod.
“Come on in. I’ll lead you back.” The bouncer’s earpiece crackles. He presses the device into his ear, listening to whoever is on the other line. “Heard.” He turns to me, and I just fucking know.
I clench my fists, barely containing my rage. The bouncer’s lips purse as he takes in my state. I probably look like the beast I feel like right now, with fangs bared, bracing for what I’m about to hear.
He winces. “Ms. Wright is no longer in the private room. She’s on the main dance floor, and she’s… Umm. She’s—”
“She’s what?” I growl through my teeth.
“Why don’t you go see for yourself, sir.” He gestures for me to walk down the blue lit corridor I assume leads to the dance floor.
I don’t bother uttering another word as I leave the bouncer behind and stomp toward the music and flashing lights. I pass a line of drunk women giggling as they wait to use the bathroom, a couple going at it in an alcove, and a group of the least stealthiest bros I’ve ever seen doing blow.
Callie shouldn’t be in a place like this. What the fuck is she thinking coming here?
As I approach the dance floor, I find a sea of writhing bodies moving to the music. My eyes scan the neon illuminated room, searching for their target.
The club is huge. Three levels, enclosed in glass, rise around the main dance floor, which is flanked by two bars crowded with people. Above me is yet another raised platform made of plexiglass, where I can see way too much of some ladies dancing above, while men below me stare up and film from below.
Please, fuck. Save me from having to kill her and any man under here staring up at her.
My head swivels, searching for the woman that equally drives me insane and makes me harder than stone. Lavender sparkles catch my eye by the bar, and I let out a gush of air I didn’t know I was holding. My hand itches to spank her when I find her sitting on the bar, with her legs crossed and a bottle of clear alcohol in her hand.
She looks sexy as fuck, with the skirt of her dress riding high up her silky thighs and the very tops of her breasts peeking over, giving every man around her the barest hint of cleavage. Her eye makeup is dark and smokey-looking, making her eyes look dangerous. They should be a warning to proceed with caution, but the invisible string tying her to me doesn’t give a fuck and tugs me closer to the person who quite possibly holds my heart. And the key to my demise.
The crowd cheers as Callie pours the liquid into the mouth of a random guy with his head tilted back. The guy sputters, liquid dribbling from his mouth, grinning like he won a million-dollar prize. As he steps back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Callie raises the bottle overhead and shouts. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but the crowd loves it. They hoot and holler as the next dude—in line with a death wish—approaches and opens his mouth as he places his hand on her bare knee.
She pours a shot into his mouth, and my vision blurs, red tinting the edges at the sight of him touching her. I can barely contain my shit as I march towards her.
She’s being reckless. None of these guys give a damn about her. They’d do anything to take advantage of her—spike her drink, force her into a dark corner. Who the fuck knows?
A hand lands across my chest. Boone is looking down at me. He’s a tall fucker at 6’6” and looks like Winston Duke. “Chill, E. You don’t want to cause a scene.”
“I don’t know if I can be chill,” I admit.
Boone smirks, shaking his head. “Me neither, man.” He glances over at Callie and back at me. “She’s something else. You’re one lucky fucker.”
I want to tell him it’s not like that, but I don’t even believe it myself anymore. I have “jealous boyfriend” written all over my face.
“More like I’m super fucked,” I mumble.
Boone laughs at my pathetic predicament. He’s lucky I like him. We met a few years ago—before I opened Blaze—when he was working security at a different club. I paid him to call me if one of my child-actor clients showed up causing trouble, and for six months, he was my tip line until my client finally went to rehab.
When I learned Boone was into stunt training, I made a call to a stunt recruiter and referred Boone. Since he’s a great guy and super talented, he was immediately cast to work on a superhero movie.
“Feeling better?” Boone asks.
“No, but I can fake it.” I tug at the collar of my shirt as I watch her from afar.
“Alright, let’s do this.”
Boone pushes through the crowd, leading the way.
Callie hollers, “Who’s next?”
Nope. Not having anymore of that.
I step in front of the next dick-waffle in a deep-V T-shirt and jeans, already opening his mouth, and push him back. “Alright, boys, you’ve had your fun. Now, take a hike.”
“Come on, man. It’s my turn,” Deep V groans.
“I don’t give a fuck. Take. A. Hike.”
Deep V steps up to me like he’s ready to fight.
Two hands tug on the back of my shirt, filling me with a sense of calm.
Callie.
The urge to throw a punch deflates further as Boone sidles up next to me and cracks his knuckles. “Fun’s over. Beat it.”
Fear strikes the fucker in the heart as he looks over at Boone. Deep V steps back, hands up in surrender. “You got it, my man.” He scurries off like his ass is on fire.
Boone smacks my shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything. I still owe you.”
I give my friend a curt nod—a silent thank you—as Callie releases her grip on my shirt and I turn around.
Callie sits on the bar with her hair swept over her left side, looking like a blonde Jessica fucking Rabbit in purple.
Fuck me.
My eyes bounce to her mouth as she bites her lip, then down the path of her body to her jewel-encrusted heels, and back to her face. She can’t hide the pink in her cheeks under the club lights as I check her out.
“Calliope.” Her name comes out more like a warning than a greeting.
The corner of her mouth lifts. “Elijiah,” she purrs.
My dick stirs in my pants at the rasp in her voice. This woman.
“Did you enjoy your little fan club?” I ask.
She slowly uncrosses her legs—a sensual maneuver that has me stepping between her thighs, blocking the view from any prying eyes. I’m not touching her, but I can feel the heat of her pussy as it hits me mid-torso at this height level.
“Elijiah Miller, are you jealous?” She runs a forefinger down my chest.
I fight the vibrations that rock my body and turn my cock to steel. Leaning forward, I place my hands on the bar beside her hips and brush my lips over the lobe of her ear. “Don’t push me, princess.”
She places both her hands on my chest, searing my skin through the fabric of my shirt. “I’m not a princess, and I don’t need saving.”
I fight the urge to place my hands on her thighs. “I’m not here to save you.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m here to save them.”
“Who?”
“The line of men begging to be in your bed.”
Her thighs press together, and the heat in her eyes is a dead giveaway. She wants me as much as I want her.
“Why do you care if there’s a line of men waiting to be in my bed?”
Good question, asshole. I can’t tell her it’s because I want to be the only man in her bed, fucking her until she comes on my cock, screaming my name—and only my name.
So, I say the only thing I know to cut the tension and douse the blustering ball of desire inside me with ice water. “Because America’s pop princess can’t be seen drunk, leaving the club with some random guy like she’s ready to get fucked.”
The sexy smirk on her face falls at my cruel words. “Fuck you, Eli,” she spits, pushing me away and putting distance between us.
“No thanks, princess.” I fucking hate myself as her eyes glass over with unshed tears. I want to punch myself in the face for being such a prick to her.
“Go away. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it since I was fourteen.”
“Not gonna happen. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Wrong answer.” I dig my shoulder into her stomach and throw her over it in a firefighter carry.
“Put me down right this minute, Eli,” she shouts over the music.
“Not gonna happen, princess. It’s time to go home,” I yell back.
With a hand on her ass, I cover Callie’s exposed skin, and I carry her kicking and cursing my name out of the club. Her fists pummel my back and ass as I push through the throng of sweaty clubbers. The flash of a camera in my periphery has me pushing through the crowd with haste until I safely have her at the back door of the club.
I’m going to need Dez to get those pictures immediately.
The same bouncer from before is still at the back exit as I approach. He chuckles, covering his mouth with his fist, as he opens the heavy metal door for me.
“Aren’t you going to help me, you big lug?” Callie shouts as I haul her into the alley toward my waiting car.
“No, ma’am,” the bouncer says.
If I wasn’t so fucking angry, I’d laugh.
“He’s kidnapping me, and you’re just going to let him take me?” she shrieks.
I’ve reached my limit. “Enough.” I give her perfectly plump ass a quick, hard smack.
“What the hell, Eli? Did you seriously just slap my ass?”
I place her on her feet and stare down at her as she huffs, pushing her hair off her face. She’s lopsided, having lost a shoe in the melee, and looks like a pissed-off kitten. All cute and sassy.
Opening the passenger door, I point at the front seat. “Yes. Now, get in the car.”
“No.” The returning fire in her eyes would kill a lesser man.
All it does is turn me on. “Don’t push me, Callie. You either get in the car, or I’ll put you in there myself after I bend your sexy ass over the hood and spank it raw.” The threat slips, but I refuse to take it back when she bites her lip and her cheeks turn pink.
Her eyes glance toward the hood of my car. My palm itches, and my dick thickens as I watch the idea of me spanking her play out in her head. The caveman in me wants to beat on my chest in pride over the fact that she’s considering letting me punish her.
“Get in the fucking car, Calliope,” I grit through my teeth, willing the steel rod in my dress pants down.
Her eyes snap back to mine, and the fire in them burns brighter. Before she comes back at me with a snippy retort, I notice the scratch under her eye and slight swelling on the apple of her cheek. My anger flares back to life, ready to destroy whomever hurt her.
“Who did this to you?” Instinctively, I cup her cheek and brush my thumb over the tender flesh.
Her delicate hand wraps around my wrist. “No one.”
No one.
Callie’s answer pierces my flesh like a sharp dagger. I know she’s covering for someone, and I want to know who. I also know pushing her won’t get her to talk. She doesn’t trust me.
Why should she? Disappointment weighs heavily on my shoulders because I’ve given Callie no reason to trust me. Especially not after the way I spoke to her in the club. I erased what little faith she had in me.
“Please, get in the car?” I ask, forcing myself to be calm for her sake.
Callie’s shoulders fall as she nods and slides into the passenger seat.
“Yo, E.” I look over to find Boone standing at the back entrance, holding a sparkly stiletto. It seems small in his large hand as he extends the heel to me. “This got left behind. Pretty sure it belongs to your girl.”
I take the shoe from Boone and thank him. Gulping down a few cleansing breaths, I kneel beside Callie. “Give me your foot.”
She hesitates before turning sideways, lifting her bare foot for me. We both gasp at the static electricity that snaps between us as I grip her delicate ankle and slide the sparkling stiletto onto her foot.
“Perfect fit.” I gently release her foot.
“It is,” Callie whispers almost too low for me to hear. “Thank you.”
My tongue feels dry like sandpaper and all I can do is nod, our earlier tension forgotten. What the fuck was that?
I walk around the car, pull out my phone to send Dez a text, and wait for his reply.
Eli: Callie was photographed at Catch-22. Need you to buy all the pictures. Price: no limit.
Dez: On it.
Satisfied that’s taken care of, I climb behind the steering wheel. The smell of Callie’s floral perfume slaps me in the face as I lean over her and grab the seatbelt. She lets in a sharp inhale as I pull the strap across her chest and buckle her in, tugging the belt to make sure it’s secure, that familiar shock snapping again.
“Eli.”
My hand stills on the gearshift as I look in her direction. The fire in her deep brown eyes has burned out, and she looks exhausted. I wish I could take back my cruel words from earlier. Not the spanking part, just the part about not wanting to fuck her.
Because I do. So damn badly.
I’ve been fighting my attraction to her for so long that one taste wouldn’t be nearly enough. I want more than just to fuck her. I want to own every single inch of Callie Wright. Her heart, her body, her soul. Everything.
I want to be the one to make her feel good, to take away her pain. Anything to make her smile again. To bring back the flames of life back into her eyes.
But I can’t let that happen. She’s my client, and I don’t mix business with pleasure. All I have is the ability to protect her career and obliterate whoever laid their hands on her.
“Yeah, Cal?”
“Will you take me somewhere?”
Anywhere, I think.
Luckily, I hold back my first thought and ask, “Where would you like to go?”
“Can I enter it?” She points to the GPS.
“Be my guest.” I watch as she enters the address. In fucking Malibu.
Interest piqued, I pull away from the club and head toward our destination. I don’t bother with the GPS since I know the area well. Cam owns a home fairly close to where she wants to go.
Forty minutes later, we arrive at an empty, dark parking lot with access to the beach. I cut the engine as Callie unlocks the door and gets out of the car. My eyes don’t leave her as she takes off her heels and pads across the pavement towards the beach.
Getting out of the car, I take off my shoes and throw them in the backseat, then grab my suit jacket before following her. The cement is cold and sandy under my feet, but I couldn’t give a fuck. Not with the way my chest twinges at the sight of her. The invisible rope wrapped around my heart tugs me harder.
Callie sits down in the sand and bends her knees, hugging them to her chest as she stares out at the glittering waves. Goosebumps cover her arms as I place my jacket over her shoulders before sitting down with my legs stretched out. Leaning back onto my hands, I sit quietly beside her, wishing like hell I knew what was going on in her head as I wait for her to speak.
“Before my dad died, I used to live here,” she says, breaking the silence.
I stay quiet, letting her lead the conversation. She rests her head on her knees and points to the right, towards a cluster of ocean-front homes sitting on the cliff overlooking the beach’s inlet. The homes she’s referring to are worth millions.
I hide my surprise, humming to let her know I’m listening.
“Now, I come out here to think. Revisit memories and remember him.”
Please, tell me this is leading somewhere, princess.
My eyes stay locked on Callie as she turns back to the water and talks to the ocean. “He died in a robbery when I was fourteen.”
Fuck . My heart breaks for her. I can’t imagine how painful that must have been for her. Losing her dad like that.
“It was so stupid. The man grabbed my mom’s purse, and my dad tried to stop him. If he just let the man go, he never would have been shot. He’d still be here.”
Callie doesn’t elaborate any further, but I can tell it took a lot for her to even tell me that bit of her history.
I’ll take it for now. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
Not knowing what else to say or how to console her, I let the silent minutes stretch as each of us lose ourselves in our own thoughts.
She breaks the silence first. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”
Not as beautiful as you.
As if she can feel my eyes on her, or maybe hear my silent thoughts, she turns to look at me. We stare at each other, and that tug returns, making it hard not to pull her close.
“I can’t tell you who hurt me.” I go to argue, but she shakes her head, making me snap my mouth shut. “Not yet. It’s not because I don’t trust you. I do. I don’t know why. Especially when you say some really shitty things to me.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “Sorry isn’t enough, but I didn’t mean what I said.”
A smile spreads across her face, taking my breath away. “Which time? The time you said I was just another bubble gum pop singer, a spoiled princess with no real talent, or that you didn’t want to fuck me?”
My heart stops in my chest, and my stomach falls out of my ass. “Umm…” I trip over my words, trying to come up with an excuse, but I’ve got nothing.
Callie laughs, and the sound is utter joy to my ears. Even if her laughter is at my expense, I can’t stop myself from laughing with her.
She swipes a finger under her eye as she tries to stop giggling. “You should have seen your face.”
“Happy to entertain you, Calliope.”
“I needed that. It’s been a night.”
“It has. And truly, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was an ass.”
“Yeah. Just a little.” She holds up her thumb and forefinger, leaving an inch between them. The smile on her face hasn’t faded, and the light is returning to her eyes as they sparkle like the star-filled black sky above us. “But I forgive you, Elijiah.”
My name on her silky tongue sends a shiver through me.
Callie shoves her arms into my coat sleeves and sits up on her knees. I watch as she slowly leans forward, bringing us nose to nose. My pulse races as the sea air whips her delicious-smelling hair into my face.
My lips prickle in anticipation as her mouth brushes against mine with a faint touch. At the last second, she turns her face and places a kiss on the side of my mouth. It all happens too quickly and when time catches up, Callie is already on her feet, walking toward the car.
A part of me wishes she had made the first move and placed her lips on mine. Disappointment spreads through me like poison. I shove the feeling down and follow Callie.
The drive back to her apartment is quiet. Neither of us says a word, and maybe it’s for the best. Between the club and that near-kiss, something between us has shifted. I don’t know what it is or how to define what’s changed, but it scares the living hell out of me.
I’m not a fan of the unknown. I like control.
And yet…
There’s a part of me that welcomes this new, terrifying, and exhilarating energy shift that’s been transpiring between me and Callie. A piece of me wants to hold on to it and see where it goes.
But… Fuck. It’s too risky.
There’s no way I can have Callie without repercussions. Both our careers and reputations would be in jeopardy, and there’s no way I’d put her in harm’s way.
She deserves better than that.