“Same here. I’m the heiress to the Gallo empire,” I announce emphatically. “And this is my belovedfather,” I say, pressing a hand on Callum’s forearm. “Not my real father, of course,” I joke just as Callum O’Hara tilts his head to me, his eyes tearing into me with blazing fire.
My familiar gesture is more than I’ve ever dared to do to himin public.
My favorite joke doesn’t land for anyone except the blonde man in front of me, who breathes a low chuckle, slowly shaking his head.
Callum’s eyes meet mine for the first time, and that saying comes to mind.
If looks could kill…
My hand is still on his sleeve, slowly gliding over the fabric that’s smoothly falling over his frame.
He lifts an eyebrow at me, suggestively enough to make me take my hand off him.
His woman fixes her eyes on me. They’re heavy with curiosity.
My first impulse is to drop it.
A confrontation with Callum O’Hara, witnessed by so many people, would only create more problems down the road, yet a voice inside my head keeps nudging me in the wrong direction.
Brazenly holding his eyes, I tilt my chin toward the woman.
“Is she my new mommy?” I drop on him, watching with immense satisfaction how he’d like nothing better than to smack me, although I doubt that it’s his style.
I’m sure he can think of better methods to punish me and put me in my place.
A muscle pulses in his jaw, while his eyes remain dipped in molten steel, never letting out anything, never offering the slightest clue on where his mind goes.
“Vittoria Pietro,” the woman says.
Our hands connect without a kernel of warmth or meaning.
She’s mature enough not to encourage me to behave like a spoiled brat, so she’s chosen the safest way to get out of this awkward situation.
“Enchanted,” I say, and pull my lips together before winking at Callum in a dare and moving my focus to his friend.
“Let’s go inside,” I say, and much to everyone’s shock, I curl my arm through Paxton’s and lead the way.
12
CALLUM
The airstill smells like her.
Sweet, dangerous, floral, fruity.
A fading memory, a shot of strong desire.
A fading sunset, swelled up by a storm.
As she walks away, I can finally rake my eyes over her body.
She’s changed.
Her hair is more rebellious, her legs seem longer, and her curves are more pronounced just in the right places.
My gaze falls to her backside, and the beast inside me stretches a slow smirk as I feel a heap of heat between my legs.
The Gallos should know better than to let her dress like that.
