Too late. He tapped the screen and pressed the speakerphone button, already smirking like the absolute menace he was. From that look alone, I knew I was fucked.
I sank into the pillows, mouthingwhat the fuckat the ceiling while panic sprinted through my bloodstream faster than a Formula 1 pit stop.
“Hallo, son.” Malina’s voice came through loud and rich—warm like whiskey and just as sharp. The Highland lilt was thick, musical, impossibly lovely. Just like her son’s that was showing more and more every day. “What a surprise. What’s the occasion? Are you alive?”
“Barely,” Callum said, winking at me as he reclined back against the pillows. “We’re in Greece on holiday.”
“Oh, fer Christ’s sake,and ye didn’t tell me?” she gasped, her tone swinging immediately from sarcastic to dramatic. “You didn’t even send a photo! Are ye with that sweet French girl you never shut up about?”
My whole body went still.
Callum smiled lazily. “Aye. She’s here.”
“Oh, Imustsee her face. You’ve kept her from me long enough, Callum James Fraser. FaceTime me right now.”
My eyes went wide. “I—wait—non, une seconde—je suis pas—” I scrambled off the bed so fast I nearly dislocated my hip. Half the sheet came with me, and I tripped over the fabric, nearly face-planting into the cold floor. I landed on my hands and knees, crawling to my suitcase at the base of the bed.
Mon Dieu, I hadn’t even had time to unpack. We’d been all hands and mouths and giddy laughter last night, and here I was, naked as the day I was born while Callum’smotherinsisted we FaceTime.
“You’vewhat?” Malina asked through the phone.
Callum laughed. “She wasn’t dressed.”
Malina made a sound that I think was supposed to be scandalized but came out gleeful. “Don’t ye dare FaceTime me without warning the poor lass! Let her put herself together first!”
“Mum,you’rethe one who suggested it,” Callum argued.
I was already digging through my suitcase like a woman possessed, throwing aside a lacy bra, three pairs of lace-trimmed underwear, and a sheer white slip that screamedhoneymoon whore.And I hadn’t even known I would be getting engaged on this trip. Putain de merde.Where was that pink pajama set?
I finally found the top—slippery, soft, entirely wrinkled—and yanked it over my head. It had tiny little straps and a lacy V, but at least I was covered. The shorts went on next. No time for panties, because as I threw Callum a look over my shoulder, he was grinning maniacally and clicking the video button.
Oh, he wassogoing to be punished for this later.
I jumped back onto the bed, curling up next to Callum and pulling the comforters around my hips just as Malina’s face filled the call. Callum draped an arm around my waist, and his warmth eased my nerves just a tad.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, blinking at the vision of her.
She wasstunning.Chestnut hair streaked with silver, tied in a long braid. Freckles across her cheeks. Piercing blue eyes just like his. She wore a thick, cozy sweater and her expression softened the second she saw me.
Meanwhile, the little square that showedushad me one breath away from cardiac arrest. My hair was a slept-on, sex-tangled mess, half flattened on one side and sticking up like I’d been electrocuted on the other. My face was bright red. And there, plain as day at the edge of my unbuttoned pajama top, was a faint fuckingbite markon my collarbone.
Fantastic.
“Well, aren’t ye just the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, beaming. “And all flustered too. Did my son do that?”
I laughed nervously, my right hand subconsciously flattening my hair, tucking it behind my ears like that would improve the situation. “A little.”
“I’m Malina,” she said warmly. “And you must be Aurélie. It’s about time we met properly.”
“It’s really nice to meet you too,” I breathed.
“And what’s this I hear about French lavender? You’ll have to teach me your recipe. My son says your family’s balm healed his neck. I sayyou’rethe reason he’s still standing.”
I opened my mouth to respond—truly, I did—but before I could form a single coherent word, another face popped onto the screen.
A broad-shouldered man with stormy brows and a carved-from-oak jawline leaned into view behind her, blinking at the camera. His hair was graying at the temples, and his expression was all no-nonsense Highland stoicism—until he saw me. Then it softened into something unexpectedly fatherly and quietly fond.
“Dad,” Callum said, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t know you’d be home.”
