The week had sped by, and it was finally Thursday. I looked forward to reuniting with Amy after her trip to Connecticut. Throughout her visit, we had been in constant communication. When I recounted the encounter with Asher, the guy from the coffee shop, she said, and I quote, "Girl, go get that cutie!"
Amy was straightforward about everything. Yet beneath my excitement about seeing her, an undercurrent of anxiety brewed. Tomorrow, I was scheduled to meet with Callum Black, an event that weighed heavily on my mind. I hadn't shared a word with anyone about it, occupying myself with long workdays. But when the day ended, the unease of confronting Callum returned.
"Get over here!" a voice exclaimed behind me. I turned to find my wild-haired best friend, Amy, and eagerly fell into her outstretched arms.
"Oh, how I've missed you," she said, embracing me tightly. I returned the hug with a laugh, telling her, "Of course, I've missed you too." We decided to meet at a cozy bar in town, a more subdued setting compared to the club from Saturday night.
"I can't wait to hear about your week, but first... ASHER?! Spill!" Her excitement was palpable. I couldn't help but smile in response.
"Well... we've texted back and forth a bit, but that's it," I sighed. "We haven't committed to a date yet." And that was the truth – we had exchanged messages and flirted playfully, but nothing concrete had been planned.
"Don't worry, he'll ask soon. Men are always slow with that kind of stuff," she assured me, offering a reassuring smile. She signaled the bartender to order our drinks.
"Now, my week, let me tell you..." And then she launched into stories about her family for the next couple of hours. Our conversation wandered through various topics, lubricated by a few drinks, resulting in a pleasant evening.
"It's getting late. I'll call a cab, and you doing the same?" I asked her. She nodded, and we both headed for the exit. After hailing separate cabs, we promised to text once we reached home.
The taxi ride passed swiftly, and I stumbled out of the cab, realizing I had likely overindulged. Dizziness swirled in my head, and a flush of warmth spread throughout my body. "Whoops," I giggled, losing my footing on the steps.
"Oops," I muttered as I dropped my keys upon opening the door. I shrugged off my light jacket and began unbuttoning my pants.
"I hope you're not planning to disrobe tonight, Miss Ruth. I'd suggest keeping those pants on," came the voice.
My whole body froze. My fingers halted their task, and my gaze locked onto the imposing figure seated in my living room. How? What...
"How the heck did you get into my living room?" I struggled to grasp the reality that Callum Black was sitting in my living room, a space that was mine.
"That's not how you address the man who holds your deepest, darkest secret, is it... Gianna?" His deep voice echoed through the room.
My fingers hesitated, the buttons of my pants left undone. Cheeks aflame, I pulled my hands away, embarrassed by the thought of him seeing me in such disarray.
I searched for words, my thoughts clouded by alcohol, rendering me incapable of forming a coherent response. But one question emerged.
"It's not Friday," I said, squinting toward the vague outline of his head. The room was dimly lit, making it hard to discern details.
"Congratulations, you know your days of the week," he replied with a hint of amusement. I heard rustling, and my focus sharpened on his silhouette as he stood up. I could barely see, but I assumed his eyes were where his head should be.
"Although I'm flattered by the compliment of your wandering gaze, let's sit and chat." He brought me back from my thoughts. My cheeks flamed even more, if that were possible.
I should have been furious, shouting at him for intruding. And I intended to do just that... once I took a seat. My dizziness intensified, overwhelming me.
I watched as he pulled out a chair from my dining room table and gestured for me to sit. I followed the movement of his arm with my eyes, all my attention directed at him. I cautiously took a seat.
He moved around my small dining room table with a confidence that suggested ownership. He strode to the chair across from me with sure strides. My gaze remained fixed on his frame. So imposing.
"I assume you've upheld your end of the bargain, Miss Ruth," he said as he took his seat. I focused on his chest.
"Yes," I replied tersely.
I lifted my eyes to his impeccably structured jawline, then met his piercing green eyes. I resented how my heart raced in his presence, how he knew the effect he had on me.
"Good girl," he said in a teasing tone, testing me. His narrowed gaze assessed my reaction. I clenched my jaw and maintained a steady expression.
"I want to know how you ended up here, in my house. I've kept my end of the deal this week, and you said Friday," I said, closing my eyes to quell the throbbing headache that had surfaced moments ago.
"I do as I please when it's a matter of importance, Miss Ruth."
Ruth. The way he said my name sent shivers down my spine, quickening my heartbeat. He studied my face, seemingly aware of my thoughts,knowledgeable about the impact he had on me.
"Well, I've honored my part of the agreement. What more could you possibly want?" I seethed, our eyes locked.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
The sound of my heartbeat echoed in my ears, the moment sizzling with tension.
"Hmm, as I mentioned, I've had my eyes on you since Saturday. I'm pleased to know you've been truthful, Ruth," he said, a trace of satisfaction in his voice.
As if I had passed his test, a thought that made my skin crawl.
"You didn't answer how you got in. You're a billionaire, not a damn locksmith," I admitted my recklessness, despising him.
He rose from his seat with a fluid grace, making his way in my direction. It happened so quickly. I kept my gaze on his, my heart racing faster.
He leaned in, his arm propped on the table, his close proximity triggering a memory of a similar gesture just days ago, when he leaned in to prove a point.
I met his stare, unflinching, holding my breath as he maintained eye contact. With him inches away, his chest felt almost within reach.
"You seem to enjoy playing with fire, Miss Ruth. Be cautious, for one day..." He leaned in even closer, my nerves heightening, his lips perilously close to mine. My body remained perfectly still.
"One day, Miss Ruth, you might get burned," he lingered in that position, studying my face, leaving a blazing trail.