Page 40 of Empire of Lust
“Bianca.”
It’s not Callum’s voice calling out from across the central hall that separates the two wings, thank god. Otherwise, I’d drop my breakfast all over the floor and maybe pee myself.
How can I still want him, even though the idea of running into him terrifies me? I need help.
Romero is at the other end of the hall. I wouldn’t say we’re friends, but I’ve always seen him as a decent guy. I know he’s just as bad as Callum—the only difference is he’s never been mean or threatened me, and he looks friendly enough as he approaches. It’s Tatum he has a problem with, not me.
“How are things going?” he asks, eyeing the plate in my hand before meeting my gaze. “Is there anything you need?”
Interesting. I’m not surprised he sent Romero to do his dirty work. I don’t know if I’m flattered or hurt that he wouldn’t come to me himself. It’s clear he cares enough to want to know if I’m doing okay. I don’t know why I’m complaining. His presence would only overwhelm me. Distance is good. At least I can think clearly when he isn’t around.
“Why can’t he ask me himself?” I whisper, looking around him, expecting to find his boss lurking in the shadows.
“He’s very busy.”
“Sure.” I sigh. “Let him know I’m fine, and everything will be in place when Tatum returns home in a few days.”
His scowl keeps me from walking away like I want to. “She’s not coming home. I assumed she told you.”
“What? Why?” I whine, sounding like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. I’ve been practically counting the minutes.
He rolls his eyes, smirking the way he usually does when she’s involved. “Kristoff wants to stop off in Milan to visit with family, and they’re going to swing through Rome. Her words when she spoke to Callum earlier today.”
And she didn’t call me. What if she somehow found out, and she’s mad at me? Maybe that’s why she’s avoiding coming home, because of me.
My chest hurts, and my appetite is a distant memory now. “I’ll have to call her.”
“I don’t know. She might be too busy running around the world with Daddy footing the bill.” He blinks rapidly, the lines between his brows smoothing out. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay.” Compared to some things I’ve witnessed him saying to her, that’s nothing.
“You’d better go and eat your eggs while they’re still hot.” He offers a tight grin before backing away.
A door further down the hall swings open, and this time a familiar, breathless voice rings out. “Romero? I want to check the—”
Shit.He stares at me, his gaze cold, but there’s a trickle of something else there. My heart doesn’t freeze, as I had expected. It feels like it’s about to split open.
I only thought I knew how much I missed seeing him and hearing his deep voice. All it takes is a glimpse of his sculpted body, dressed in sweat-soaked workout clothes, and I’m imagining throwing myself at his feet and begging him to forgive me. Touch me. Want me.
Why do you hate me? What did I do?
Rather than beg him for answers, I waste no time running away from that look in his eyes. Whatever I did, he can’t forgive it.
And I have no idea how much longer it will be before Tatum comes back. There’s nobody to rescue me. I’ll spend the rest of my day going through rental listings. Right now, I’d be happy to take four walls and a ceiling that doesn’t leak. Anything, so long as it means never seeing that look in his eyes again.
A look that makes me think he wishes he’d gone through with killing me.
CALLUM
Iknew there was no getting Bianca out of my head. My almost non-stop jerking off the last three weeks has done nothing but make me want her more. There isn’t a workout intense enough to make me forget her, no amount of work on my plate crucial enough to wipe my mind clean.
There’s never a moment when I don’t crave her scent. The fresh, sweet taste of her skin. The musk of her pussy—fuck, what I wouldn’t give to bury my face in it now, endorphins pumping after damn near killing myself in the gym.
She’s right in front of me, with that scared rabbit look on her face. Wide eyes, slack jaw. Something about it only deepens my need, making it impossible to fight the impulse to take her in my arms and reacquaint myself with her body. Here and now.
Watching her on the security feed is one thing. It’s painful enough to see her without being able to touch her, but it’s the safest way to get my fix. Most of the time, I have no choice but to pull out my dick and stroke it to the sight of her getting in or out of her car.
It’s fucking pathetic, but it’s how things need to be. No matter how it kills me. No matter how much sleep I’ve lost. Every instinct screams at me to go to her, to cover her mouth with my hand and sink my cock deep into her tight, silky heat. No, better yet, I’d want to hear her. Every whisper, every whimper, every time she’d moan my name.