After he dropped me off that day, I was hoping the next time I would see this face, it would be the man whom I really wanted to see. Not a version of him that was carved from cruelty.
He didn’t wait for an invitation. He strode in like he owned the place, not caring that he and I had no relationship.
He didn’t care. He didn’t seem to have been built to care. He wasn’t Callan.
“Hi,” I said anyway, but softly, hesitantly, as I slowly shut the door.
I followed behind him quietly, cautiously, my legs slightly trembling as he walked into the middle of the room. I stopped when he stopped, a long breath leaving my lips when he turned around, inspecting the room.
He slid his hands into his pockets, the diamond watch on his wrist catching the light. Then slowly, he tilted his head, gaze raking over my body, lingering on my chest where a few of my buttons were still left undone, while my tie loosely hung in a strange knot.
Something sharp and wrong flickered in his golden eyes, a darkness that threaded anxiety down my spine.
I didn’t know what he came here for. I didn’t know what he planned to do with me. I wished he wouldn’t come back to hover around me. But at the same time, he was my only connection to Callan. Only through him did I have a shot at reaching Callan. If he had to be here, breathing down my neck for Callan to return to me, then I would endure it. Callan was a special someone. He deserved to be fought for.
“I called your phone,” he said calmly, voice velvety-deep. “Fifteen times.”
“I didn’t see it.” My fingers curled under the hem of my skirt, clutching it.
I truly didn’t see his call. My phone was on silent. It slipped into it yesterday, and it didn’t cross my mind to remove it. And I hadn’t even held the said phone since I woke up. I even forgot I had something called a phone.
To my reply, though, he simply nodded, his gaze shifting from me to the room, scanning the surroundings.
He stared at the cracked ceiling with water marks on it, sceptical, cautious, as if he was afraid the roof would collapse on his head if he stood too long under it.
I didn’t blame him. I often thought that too. The house looked like it was two hundred years old. And it wasn’t as though it was made from the most luxurious of materials.
“I need to see him,” I said after gathering all the courage I felt sufficient enough.
He raised a brow. “Who?”
“Callan,” I dared to say his name, knowing the name seemed to cause an itch, trigger a madness he couldn’t quite tame.
He tutted, jaw ticking as he took a slow step forward. “You’re hurting my feelings now, Elizabeth.”
The air shifted again, heavier now, more dangerous as he drew closer, until his body heat began to seep into mine, until I could smell the whiskey on his breath. Wasn’t it too early to be drinking? Did he even eat breakfast? Proper food?
“Here I am.” His voice was tinged with something possessive, something unhinged. “all of me, standing in front of you, so fucking early in the morning. And yet, you’re asking for another man?”
Another man? Did he know he was the other man here? The imposter?
Callan was the man. The one who held my heart and disappeared with it.
This right here was just a parasite. Did he know he was a disease I wanted to carve out? Bleed out?
His hand rose, his palm cupping my cheek harshly, but not enough to hurt. “Let me see him.” I maintained humility, helplessness, giving him the illusion of power that he so desperately craved. “Please.”
His jaw twitched again, anger flashing in his eyes. Then his hand slid from my cheek, wrapping around my throat, flexing. Of course, his favourite language. If he didn’t threaten one with death for a day, I doubted he would have a normal day.
“He’s not coming.” His tone was a low growl, like a man holding back rage. “Not anytime soon.”
My chest tightened, and I could hear the echo of my heart shattering. “Why?”
“He might not even come back at all…” A malicious look flashed in his eyes. “…if you piss me off.”
The words landed like a punch to my ribs. I barely registered the pain in my jaw with every word spoken anymore. What did he mean by that? Was he planning on sealing Callan off? Would he never let Callan take control back? He told me he only borrowed the body. When you borrowed something, it was only right to return it, wasn’t it?
What was he saying now?
