Chapter 18
Callum
I’m in the penthouse before she is. Didn’t sit right, lettin’ her come back alone after that circus of a gala. Could’ve followed the car, sure—but I needed to be here. In her space. Settled. Waitin’.
There’s somethin’ about that, isn’t there? The idea of her walkin’ in and findin’ me already here. Like I belong. Like this is normal.
I drop onto the edge of her velvet couch, one arm flung along the back, the other restin’ lazy on my thigh. Reaper’s name flashes across my phone—still diggin’, nosy fecker. Loves his rabbit holes like a terrier with a rat.
Then—click.
She walks in.
And Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
She’s still wearin’ that bloody dress—the one that nearly undid me in the bathroom earlier. I’d held the line then, barely. Would’ve had her pressed up against the sink otherwise, kissin’ the common sense outta that sharp little mind of hers.
But now?
Now there’s no reason not to look.
My eyes rake down her slow. From that neckline kissin’ her collarbones, to the way the fabric clings to her waist, to the slit flashin’ just enough leg to make me consider breakin’ every promise I’ve ever made to myself. I drag my gaze back up, meet her eyes—and sure enough, she saw it all.
I lick my lips, not even botherin’ to hide it, and smile.
She scowls. “What are you doing?”
I lift a brow. “Waitin’ on you, darlin’.”
“No,” she says, finger jabbing at me. “You just checked me out.”
I lean back, lips twitchin’. “Aye, well. I’ve eyes in my head, don’t I? Be rude not to admire art when it’s hangin’ right in front of me.”
She flushes, spins round on her heel. “I’m going to change.”
“Take yer time, love,” I murmur, loud enough for her to catch.
She disappears into her room. I tip my head back, starin’ at the ceilin’, lettin’ the silence stretch. I need to get my head on straight. Tell her what Reaper found on Damon Vale.
But then her door opens again.
And she’s still wearin’ the fuckin’ dress.
I stand. “Trouble?”
She lets out a huff. “The zipper’s stuck... can you help me get it undone?”
Ah, shite.
I close the space between us in a few long strides, blood already heatin’.
She turns round, gatherin’ her hair to one side. The sight of her neck—bare and waitin’—nearly buckles my knees.
I move in slow. Let the backs of my fingers brush her skin. She shivers, bless her. I steady my hand on her shoulder—hers or mine, I’ve no feckin’ clue—and reach for the zipper.
And pull.
Slow. Slower than I need to. Just ‘cos I can.
The dress parts like water, revealin’ her back inch by inch. The zipper’s not caught. Never was.
The minx.
Then—Christ above—she lets it fall. Slips off her like a sigh, puddlin’ at her feet like somethin’ sacred.
I stand there, frozen. Mouth dry, pulse roarin’.
“Don’t tease me, little siren,” I murmur, voice comin’ low and rough. “You sing that song, I’ll walk into the deep with no lookin’ back. Gladly drown for you.”
She looks over her shoulder, a wicked smile dancin’ on her lips. “Not yet,” she whispers—and shuts the door in me face.
Fucking hell.
I drag a hand through my hair, then drop onto the couch like I’ve been shot. If I don’t sit, I’ll pace. If I pace, I’ll end up kickin’ her bloody door in.
Right. Focus.
Damon Vale. Business first. Blue balls later.
The door opens again. I look up—
And groan.
She’s in the softest feckin’ pajama set I’ve ever laid eyes on. Little shorts, clingy tank, no bra.
I swear out loud in Irish. “You’re tryin’ to kill me, a ghrá.”
She smirks, the wicked thing.
“Right,” I say, tryin’ to collect the tatters of me sanity. “Sit. We’ve things to talk about.”
She drops beside me like she didn’t just dismantle my whole nervous system.
Her thigh brushes mine.
I bite back a curse.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, searchin’ for focus. “We found somethin’ on Vale.”
She hums, foldin’ her legs under her, tank ridin’ up, flashin’ more skin than’s fair.
“Didn’t take long,” she teases. “You and Reaper work fast.”
“We had to,” I mutter. Not risin’ to it. “Your man’s neck-deep in shite, Sera. Deeper than I expected.”
That gets her attention. She sits up straighter, the mischief in her eyes shiftin’ to steel. “What kind of worse?”
I pull up Reaper’s file and hand her the phone.
“He’s not just takin’ bribes. He’s extortin’ them. Demandin’ ‘em. Settin’ up fake companies, hidin’ cash in offshore accounts. One trail links straight to a black-market weapons ring outta Slovakia.”
She stares. “Jesus.”
I nod. “Not done.”
“Course not,” she mutters.
“He’s tied to two traffickers—both dead now. But their records? They cross Vale’s name too often to be coincidence.”
She doesn’t blink.
“Told you he was dangerous,” I say, quieter now. “But it’s not just ‘cos of the power. It’s the greed. The recklessness. He’s the sort who’d torch a city just for the satisfaction of pissin’ on the ashes.”
She meets my eyes. “And he’s coming after me.”
I nod once. “Aye. ”
Silence.
Then she whispers, “I don’t know how to protect myself from someone like that.”
I shift to face her, one hand curlin’ behind her on the couch, close but not touchin’.
“That’s why I’m here.”
Her gaze flickers over mine. “And what happens when I become more of a liability than an asset?”
I lean in, breath minglin’. “Then I’ll protect you harder.”
Her breath stutters.
“And what if I don’t want to be just an asset at all?”
Ah, there it is.
The air thickens, hot and heavy.
My voice drops. “Then tell me what you want to be.”
She doesn’t flinch. “Dangerous.”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “You already are, mo chroí.”
Her fingers skim my forearm, brushin’ over the edge of the ink that peeks out from under my sleeve.
“Callum.”
I don’t answer. Just lean in—closer still.
Too close .
I press my mouth to hers. Gentle first, a question. But the second she sighs against me, I deepen it. One hand slidin’ into her hair, the other grip tight at her neck, keepin’ her right where I want her.
She grabs my shirt, haulin’ me closer, like it’s instinct.
And for a few glorious seconds—we’re not thinkin’. Just feelin’.
Heat. Want. Need.
Then I pull back, pantin’, forehead pressed to hers.
“Fuck,” I breathe. “That wasn’t in the plan.”
She smiles. Barely. “I liked that plan better.”
I laugh, rough and low. “If I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.”
She doesn’t let go. “Then don’t.”
I kiss her temple instead. Just enough to keep me grounded.
But I don’t let it go further. Not tonight.
She stays close. Still leanin’ against me like that kiss didn’t just detonate half my feckin’ soul.
But Vale’s out there. Lurkin’. Plotting.
I breathe slow, tryin’ to shake off the fire she lit in my blood.
“We need a plan,” I say, voice still grazin’ her lips.
She nods, relentin’, drawin’ back a touch. “We do.”
I sit up straight, scrubbin’ a hand through my hair. “First thing—we keep you visible.”
She frowns. “Shouldn’t I lay low?”
“Not with a man like Vale,” I murmur. “He thrives in shadows. If you vanish, he’ll think you’re plannin’ a move—and he’ll come sniffin’. But if you stay loud, public, seen... he hesitates.”
“To avoid exposure?”
“Exactly. Bastard’s a cockroach in a five-grand suit. Doesn’t like the light. So we make sure it’s floodin’ every inch of you.”
She nods, slower this time. “And if that doesn’t stop him?”
My jaw sets. “Then we go to step two. Controlled leaks. Reaper and I start feedin’ the public what we know—just enough to rattle his cage.”
“You want to blackmail him.”
I grin, all teeth. “I want to ruin the bastard’s sleep. Make him sweat every time his phone rings. Make him wonder what we’ll drop next.”
She huffs a faint laugh. “You’re scary when you’re like this.”
“Aye. That’s the point.”
A quiet beat. Then—
“And what about me?”
“What about you?”
“I don’t want to sit on the sidelines,” she says, fierce. “I want in.”
I lean toward her, eyes lockin’. “Then no more secrets. Not one. You get a feelin’, a note, a whisper—I want to know about it.”
She nods, firm.
“We give him nothin’. No tells. No cracks to slip through.”
“I can do that.”
“I’ll get Reaper to ghost your phone. If Vale so much as breathes your name, we’ll know.”
She folds her arms under her chest, and I do not look. “So what—you’re just gonna move in here?”
I smirk. “Not exactly. I’ll be your shadow.”
She cocks a brow. “Creepy.”
“Effective.”
Another pause. Her voice softens.
“You really think we can beat him?”
I nod once. “I know we can.”
“Then why do you still look worried?”
I study her. Every line of her face. Every ounce of fire behind those eyes.
“‘Cause I know what monsters like Vale are capable of. And if he hurts you...”
I can’t even finish it.
Instead, I reach over. Tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
She inhales sharp.
“I’ll be ready,” she says.
I smile, slow and certain. “I know you will.”
The war’s still ahead. But tonight—tonight, we’ve drawn the first line in the sand.