Page 223 of Callan

“They just arrived,” he says, tilting his head to the man greeting another member of his crew in front of the house.

“Did you have your men inside my place?” I ask.

He shoots his eyes at me, unwilling to talk, before the door opens and his bodyguard enters the foyer, holding a cardboard box.

“Take them upstairs,” Callan says, and the man pulls away from us. “Anything else?” he asks, and I search his eyes.

A wall blocks everything I've known about this man.

I pull closer to him and study him more.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask.

The flicker of a dark smile glints between his lashes.

“Mad? Why would I be mad?”

My hand slides to his chest.

“Tell me, Callan… Why are you angry with me when I should be angry with you?”

A muscle throbs in his jaw.

“I’m not mad at you. Go upstairs. Change. Feel at home. You can find food in the kitchen and ask my housekeeper for anything house-related. She’ll help you find whatever you need.”

With that, he heads to the exit while one of his bodyguards swiftly follows him. The two men slide into the car waiting in the driveway and, soon after, pull away, and I feel like my heart has just been ripped out of my chest.

36

MACKENZIE

He didn’t come homelast night, and while I had the entire bedroom for myself, and the experience of living in his house was good for so many reasons, I still wallowed in self-pity.

There were moments when I felt like a princess.

There were also moments when I felt like a captive.

Once he left, the house got quiet.

There were people in the house, but they mostly chit-chatted in the kitchen, downstairs, or outside while removing the snow.

It started to snow right after he pulled away.And I stayed upstairs for about an hour before I decided to make the most of this experience.

So I shed my heels and suit, took a shower, put on some comfortable clothes, and went downstairs to eat lunch.

Seafood chowder with extra sour cream and chopped cilantro, freshly baked bread, and red velvet cake.

It felt like it was my birthday, only without running any errands, grappling with the constraints of a tight budget, and not knowing how to pay the rent.

Speaking of that, the super will throw a fit if I break the lease, which I’ll probably do.

I napped after lunch and walked around the property in the evening. Not alone, of course. One of his men kept an eye on me from the distance.

At night, I find myself looking for something to read.

Life is not easy without a phone, a laptop, or a tablet.

The housekeeper directed me to a room at the end of the corridor––a reading room where Callan’s mother had kept her favorite reads.

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