“Abby?” I call.
“Okay, thanks, Blair, I’ll talk to you soon. Bye,” she says quickly before hanging up.
I stare at my phone, confused and unsettled. Who the hell was that?
“Finish your food, please,” Calvin orders, startling me. I comply, hoping he didn’t hear what I heard. He sits beside me, making sure I eat until I’m full. Once I’m done, he kisses my temple softly. “Good girl,” he praises, and I swear, I’m getting obsessed with hearing him say that.
He stands, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his wallet. Without a word, he slips out a sleek black card and holds it out to me.
Instinct takes over. I accept it without thinking.
“For whatever you need for the masquerade ball,” he says simply, already walking toward his dresser. He opens the top drawer, pulls out his briefcase, and flips it open like this is just another Tuesday.
But my mind is spinning.
So… he did hear me and Abby talking. He heard a man’s voice. That means he knows.
So why isn’t he freaking out?
This is the same man who punched Dylan for making out with me. The same man who’s shown time and time again how possessive he is.
I don’t get it.
I don’t understand him. I don’t understand their relationship.
I look down at the card. I don’t need to be a millionaire to know what this is: an American Express Centurion. I’ve readenough billionaire romance novels to recognize it. But holding it in my hand is a whole different feeling.
“I wasn’t planning on going,” I say, voice softer now.
He doesn’t look up from whatever he’s doing in his briefcase. But when he finally does turn to face me… Fuck. That face.
I already know I’m going. If he asks, if he wants me there? I’m going.
“I want you to come,” he says.
“Okay, but this isn’t necessary,” I say, holding the card between my fingers. “Abby gave me hers before she left, so I can just use that…”
“I know.”
His chuckle isn’t amused, and he doesn’t move to take his card back. “That card may have your sister’s name on it, but it’s mine. Which means, technically, I’ve been funding your fun already.”
I blink. “Wait, so if that card’s yours, then that means…”
He lifts a brow, voice low and even. “You paid for your little booty call to fly down here with my money? Yeah, don’t do that again.”
My mouth falls open. “Well, in my defense, I didn’t know it was your money.”
He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe a word of it.
“You knew,” he says. “Just don’t do it again.”
“Fine,” I mutter, because admitting he’s right feels like handing him a crown.
“And, Blair…” His voice softens just enough to make my pulse jump. “I want to buy the dress I’ll be taking off you.”
My throat goes dry.
“Okay,” I whisper, slipping the card into my pocket. “Thank you. What’s my budget?”
