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I stand still for a moment, hesitant to approach Callum while he’s with company, but just then, his gray eyes dart away from his guest, finding me.
Then they don’t let go.
I can only describe his look as ravenous. I’ve seen men stare at me like that before, but typically, I’m mostly undressed and showing them my pussy through flimsy underwear when they stare this probingly.
Callum takes his time, his gaze raking over me from the tips of my Mary Janes to the elegant side braid, missing nothing. His friend seems to be asking something, but he’s not paying him a bit of attention. Finally, the blond guy turns to see what could possibly have enthralled him that way.
His eyes widen, and his jaw falls as he, too, watches me. But his expression’s different than Callum’s. He seems…confused?
“If you’ll excuse me,” I hear Callum say, before he crosses the distance between us, taking my elbow.
He drags me inside fast. The paparazzi, who until then ignored me, flash their cameras, taking several shots on our way up.
Only when we’re beyond the dark green gates does he let me go.
“Fucking hell, love,” he grunts. “Do youwantme to bend you over in public?”
I snort. “I thought you wanted me to fucksomeone else.”
Callum leads us to a bar, lifting his hand. The poor bartender immediately abandons what he was doing to scurry over. “Scotch, neat, and Cristal for the lady. Bring a bottle.”
The man obeys with a nod.
“Cristal?” I ask.
“Champagne. You’ll like it.”
“What if I detest champagne?” I argue for the sake of it.
“You got drunk on cheap cava for graduation last May. I doubt you’ll frown on the upgrade.”
How does he…
Oh. Tricks. I was with Patricia at graduation.
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m gonna have a talk with my so-called best friend. How do you know her?”
“So many questions.”
“And no answers so far.”
His drink arrives first, and he downs it in one go, looking like he’s been parched and that’s the first bit of water he’s seen in days.
The champagne is next, and this time, he takes the time to lift his flute to mine for a toast. “To a mutually satisfactory evening.”
I can’t exactly pinpoint why I flush. Likely because of the way those dark gray orbs pierce into me. He could be talking about the weather, I’d still be beet red.
“To getting some fucking answers,” I retort, tapping his glass with mine.
A beautiful brunette informs us our private room is ready, and I tense immediately. I thought we were supposed to stay in public? But that’s not what he offered; he said I’d be seen with him in public. And he’s right, it’s reassuring. He can’t possibly murder me now, without being a prime suspect, as he said.
Then again, he’s a fucking peer of the realm, and pretty high on the hierarchy, too. I think it would only take about twenty-five deaths for him to become king.
And I’m having drinks with him.
Wild.
He takes our bottle and we follow the hostess, past the bar and into a dimly lit area with half a dozen closed doors.
