Page 14 of Ruin Me
I turn to face him. “And why’s that? Because of snipers or because you think I’ll leap over the balcony like some sort of spy and run?”
He steps closer, his presence insistent as he narrows his eyes at my sass. “It’s not safe.”
“Feels like it’s not safe anywhere these days, especially not with you guys.” My words hang between us, heavy and true.
Callum’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I see something flash in his eyes before it’s quickly masked. “We’re trying to protect you.”
“By dragging me deeper into your world?” I challenge. “I’m not sure that’s protection, Callum. It feels more like a life sentence.”
“Vogue...”
“No, let me be clear. What happened today, those bullets weren’t meant for me, but they could’ve been my end all the same. And now, hiding out in some fancy hotel room isn’t going to change the fact that I’m just collateral damage waiting to happen.”
“For starters, we don’t know they weren’t aiming at you, and secondly, is that what you think you are to us? Collateral damage?” His tone is low, almost a growl.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I ask, my voice shrill. “Why would they be trying to killme? I don’t even know who these people are!”
“We can’t rule anything out,” he states and that, according to his tone, is the end of that.
Choosing not to go down the path he has closed off, I inhale sharply. “Why should I think I’m not dispensable?” I ask, my heart racing but not from fear of him—more from the realisation of how tangled our lives have become.
“Believe it or not, we care about what happens to you.” He leans on the railing beside me, looking out at the view I had been lost in moments ago.
“Care is a loaded word in our situation,” I retort, crossing my arms to ward off the chill or maybe his scrutiny.
“Everything is loaded in our situation, Vogue. But we’re in the line of fire together.” He turns to face me, his expression hard to read.
“Who are you? Really?”
“Callum Wakefield, Earl of Woodhurst.”
My mouth drops open in shock. “Earl?”
“Yep.”
“Well, look at you, aren’t you fancy.” Then I frown. “Wait. Why is Quentin’s surname different to yours?”
He cocks his head to the side with an inquisitive stare. “How do you know it is?”
“Ravenscroft. He’s in one of my lectures, which is weird. You’re undergrads, right?”
“Third-years. But Quen fancies himself as a bit of a swot.”
The unladylike snort that erupts from my face is horrifying, but I can’t help it. Quentin, with his snake neck tattoo, bullets flying past his head and all-black combat-type attire, is the least likely person I’d call a swot ever. But then I sober up. I guess it just shows you how judging a book by its cover is so wrong. He speaks with eloquence, knowledge and confidence. So I nod and look back over the city wondering what the fuck I’ve got myself into, with no answer on why the twins have different last names. I guess it doesn’t really matter.
9
VOGUE
The weightof Callum’s gaze is hard to ignore. Turning my head to face him again, his eyes bore into mine, heavy with things unsaid. His eyes are like two shards of ice as he narrows them, almost willing me to understand, to see the layers beneath all this muscle and mafia. But I can’t unravel Callum Wakefield, not now, not with my pulse still beating wildly from the day’s terror.
He steps back, disappearing into the suite without another word, leaving me in the cool air that does nothing to soothe the heat in my cheeks.
Quentin emerges then, bringing with him the scent of aged scotch and something indefinably dangerous. He extends the glass towards me, his movements smooth, controlled. “Here, try this. Might help.”
I take it, my fingers brushing against his. The warmth from his hand lingers like a promise, or maybe a warning. My lips touch the rim, and I take atentative sip. I don’t mind a glass of wine or two, but usually, hard spirits are my limit. Today though, that can get fucked. The scotch is fire down my throat, and I cough, the sound harsher than I intend.
“Easy,” Quen says, reclaiming the glass with a slow smile that does funny things to my stomach. “It’s an acquired taste.”
