by Mason, V. F.
“You’re kidding, right? After your tango with Callum MacRae, you expected me to be in dreamland without grilling you for details?” I’m in the middle of slipping off my heels when her words freeze me. “No way. I have wine and macarons ready for us.” She points at the table in front of the couch and wiggles her brows. “Don’t leave anything out.”
“How do you know that?” I ignore everything else, because panic slowly swirls inside me, but I wait for her reply, not wanting to freak out for no reason.
“It’s all over social media. Here.” She shows me her cell phone, where there is a video of us with several hashtags, one of them being #getaroom.
“No, no, no,” I groan and grab the phone, scrolling through it and seeing several more. “This cannot be happening!”
Isla crosses her arms and shrugs. “Well it did.” She grabs my arm and pulls me toward the couch, almost forcefully plunging us on it. “Did he drop you home?” she asks excitedly, and I huff in frustration, sliding across the couch a bit to rest my head against the cushions.
“No! No such thing happened. It was just a dance.” And a weird encounter in the garden, but I’m so not going to touch on that, or she’ll blow it even more out of proportion. “I think he has a problem with Kevin or Lucy.” Nothing else explains his weird behavior, all the innuendos he made earlier… as if he’s angry about their relationship.
So maybe he’s one of Lucy’s exes?
My hands fist in my lap at such an idea, rage flashing through me, and I frown in confusion. Why would it matter if they share a past anyway?
It’s not like we will be anything.
Isla snorts, pouring wine into two glasses and then putting one in my hand. “Right. Because that’s what a man does… dances with the sister when he wants another sister.” Sarcasm laces her voice, but I pay no attention to that. “I’m telling you, he has a thing for you. I can smell this kind of shit.”
Although Isla is a detective and usually stays super serious on her job, she tends to create images in her head that have nothing to do with reality. Mainly, it has to do with relationships or crushes. “Remember in senior year of college you told me Hugh had a crush on me?” She nods, and I snatch a lemon macaron from her fingers. “I asked him out, but it turned out he liked someone else. Gordon.” She coughs into her wine, so I point my index finger at her. “Yep, he’s gay. So you are not always right.”
“Whatever.” She sips her wine and then wiggles her brows again. “You can admit the dude is hot though.”
The memory of his scent and body play in my mind, but I shake my head, willing my subconscious to move to another subject.
And it does gladly. “Anyway, forget about the dance. I have bigger problems. Like where to live and find a job.” After Lucy fucked up my previous job, I wanted to look for another one straight away. Kevin though convinced me not to do it before the wedding, since he wanted to surprise me on our honeymoon.
Kevin acted weird through the duration of this relationship come to think of it which makes sense now in light of his affair with Lucy.
Yeah, well, I should have listened to my gut, which screamed at me that if something looks too good to be true… it probably is.
“You have a job.” Isla munches on her macaron and dips a little of it into her wine, and I barely contain my gag reflex. Mixing the two together is just plain wrong. “With Callum MacRae, and tomorrow is your first day. His assistant called. And you can stay here for as long as you need. No one is using the spare bedroom anyway.” She dusts off her hands loudly. “Problem solved.”
If only everything was this easy. “Yeah, I won’t work there.” She blinks in confusion, so I elaborate. “I can’t after tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s weird. Our dance is all over social media. People already think I’m doing him. And it’s weird,” I repeat again, frustrated I even have to explain myself.
The job he offered me is a dream come true… but then the man has hidden intentions. And a man with the kind of power he possesses is a dangerous man.
It’s better to stay away for everyone involved. “Which reminds me… can you give me his number? I need to call him and let him know he has to find a replacement.”
“You are such a liar.” She whips his business card from her pocket and gives it to me. “If it’s just a dance, you wouldn’t be all frustrated now.” She pouts her lips before grabbing the remote and turning on TV. “But it’s fine. You’ll share everything in time.” She pats my hand right before zeroing her attention on the screen as the latest crime drama starts.
I’m too stunned to say anything about that, but then again, do I really think I’ll be able to hide anything from my best friend? Besides Darius, she is the only person who truly knows me in this world.
I walk to my purse, moaning a little when my sore feet touch the cold marble. I can’t wait to soak them in warm water. As I fish for my phone to dial his number, my screen flashes with a message from an unknown number.
It takes me a second to recognize it as the one I was about to dial.
What does he mean?
I quickly type my reply and send it before thinking about it too much.
Oh my God!
I hop on the bar stool next to the kitchen counter and furiously type back. And how freaky that he messaged me right before I was about to the same!
Take that!
He sends me a screenshot of a document though. I zoom in to read, and it looks like a copy of the contract. He highlighted some small part under the agreement clause. Then my phone pings with another message.
He attaches another screenshot and my brows rise at the amount.
The freaking jerk! I can’t believe Isla didn’t read this contract carefully, but then again, she probably never thought I’d refuse to work for them.
Wait a minute….
I spin around to face my friend, whose gaze is stilled glued to the TV, and ask, “Did you know about the clause?”
“Yep.”
“Is this why you’re so calm?” I clarify, just to make sure I’m not throwing around accusations.
“Yep. And you’ll thank me later!” She salutes me while I groan loudly, shaking my fist at her.
“I’ll kill you later!”
I’m so angry I don’t even watch my words when my thumbs move rapidly on the screen.
< Me> You are an asshole.
I scream, squeezing my phone so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. Callum MacRae is called a heartless shark for a reason. He put me in a corner so smoothly and ordered me to dance to his tune.
And now I’m about to face the man once again and have an interview with him.
God help me, because I’m about to face the devil.
Callum
Resting my back against the balcony banister, I open my arms wide, welcoming the coming breezing washing over me and pricking my skin. The frigid air fills my lungs as I greedily inhale it, and then grin widely.
Even nature cooperates with me.
I crack my neck from side to side, when loud ringing echoes through the living room. Sighing, I light up a cigarette on the way and click my fingers.
Immediately, an angry voice booms through the place. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Hello to you to
o, Jaxon.” I pour myself a morning coffee all while he continues to shout, and since it’s on loudspeaker, my entire house shakes with the power of it. “Giselle Walker? I repeat, ‘are you out of your fucking mind?’”
“The years haven’t taught you any manners,” I muse, sipping my drink, and then add a little sugar to it. “Besides, what I do is none of your business.”
“It is my business. You are in my town.”
I chuckle, dropping onto the chair and turning on the morning news, putting it on mute. Just my luck, they’re talking about finding a body in a swimming pool, and there are shots of the crying family.
Pity I don’t give two shits about their grief.
“Yeah, I think you guys need to hash out whose town it is. Lachlan’s or yours or Don’s. Or Gael’s for that matter.”
He goes silent on me, and we both know why.
While Don, the head of Cosa Nostra mafia, is fine with Jaxon… Gael MacGregor will never be. They almost have a blood war going on, or rather a cold peace, for the time being.
But everyone knows the time will come for the blood, the MacGregors just needed a reason.
And who can blame them for what the MacAlisters have done to them.
“But since you are my friend and all,” I say, taking another sip, “I’ll indulge you. No, I’m not out of my fucking mind. And yes, Giselle Walker is mine.” The sheer pleasure tasting those words on my tongue is inexplainable.
“You can’t do that.”
“Oh why not?”
“Because it will lead to nothing but disaster.”
Having lost all desire for my morning coffee that started to smell bitter, I get up and go back on the balcony, leaning on the banister to admire the view, which opens up the entire city for me.
And so many possibilities for hunting. “Easy for you to say.”
Jaxon exhales heavily and then speaks calmer this time, probably trying to use a different tactic to convince me. “Callum, you can’t punish her for what happened twenty-five years ago.”
For a second, the world stops to exist as screams of terror and pain surround me along with the scene of blood and gasoline. Loud voices one after another change in a blur, all mixing into one that will forever stay imprinted in my brain.
Run!
The blast of wind slapping me in the face brings me back from the past, while the raging fury stays, sinking its claws so deep into my skin I can’t utter a word.
But Jaxon still has plenty to say. “I can’t allow you to do that. You will destroy—”
“You have no right to forbid me.”
“Callu—”
“According to the rules of the brotherhood, I left.” I emphasize the last part, because Jaxon didn’t get the memo it seems. “Blood will have blood. You have no ground in this argument.”
“I have moral fucking ground.”
My brows rise at his protectiveness over Giselle, and the beast inside me roars, possessiveness unlike anything before pushes on the surface. “Why do you care about her so much?”
He answers me with hollow laughter. “Don’t be me.”
Ah, Jaxon and his dramatic love story. I think only a lazy person at this point is not involved in their drama, but then what did he expect?
“You are mistaken, Jaxon,” I finally say coldly, gazing straight ahead. “I’m not using her for revenge.”
He’s silent a beat, and then he says, “You aren’t?”
“No, I want her, only her. And ironically, making her mine will be the greatest revenge of all.” I hang up on him before he can spit any more bullshit, all while admiring the nature around me.
Giselle Walker was always destined to be mine.
I’m just taking back what the Walker family has owed me for the last twenty-five years.
Chapter Eight
Houston, Texas
6 months earlier
Giselle, 25 years old
Breathing in the rich smell of the soil and morning grass, I lean my head on the porch swing chain while my eyes take in the beautiful picture in front of me. The sunrise is right around the corner, but for now, the dawn is skirting around the edges, awakening everything in its wake while horses nicker in the background.
The barely audible chirp of the birds adds to the scenery while Grandpa’s cat, Liza, jumps on the swing beside me and meows. “Hey, pretty girl,” I murmur, scratching behind her ear, and she leans into the touch, purring. A chuckle slips past my lips. “You are spoiled.” She blinks and then gets on my lap, burrowing her head into my stomach while I continue to rub her.
My ring snags my attention, and once again I tilt it side to side inspecting it, shocked with its… design.
The diamond is so crystal clear I can see my reflection in it… yet wearing it seems like such a lie.
Maybe because Kevin should have known such a ring doesn’t suit me? It always scratches when I do something in the garden, and looks so… plain, so expensive… so like a thing Lucy would like.
I frown at the sudden thought, locking my hands and rubbing the ring while uneasiness rushes through me.
My little sister and my fiancé barely get along, so it’s hard to imagine him picking out something to her taste. The thought doesn’t leave my mind though; instead, it settles there while I remember all our encounters.
I arranged so many of them, wanting them to get along, since they always bickered. Lucy considers him a stuck-up asshole, which is not surprising, since everyone who has responsibilities seems like that to her.
My stomach flips at the guilt of such thoughts, because she is not evil. She just lives in her own reality where nothing besides her desires exists. Sometimes, I think she truly doesn’t think her actions hurt anybody, because they make so much sense to her.
And there is Kevin, who says she is shallow and will never understand hardworking people like him. He dreams about opening his own winery one day. He even told me I can design it.
A smile curves my lips at that, warmth filling my chest at the picture presented in my mind, but then the smile slips, because I don’t see myself there.
In the perfect house with the perfect guy living the perfect life.
Why don’t I see it?
The rustling of leaves echoes on my right, and I glance that way, surprised at who it might be. I see no one, yet the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
Pulling the scarf around me tighter, I almost want to laugh out loud at all my radical musing and suspecting someone might be hiding behind the bushes.
“I’m going insane.”
“Is that so?” Grandpa Darius asks, stepping onto the porch, holding two steaming cups of tea. “I find it charming.” He sits next to me and leans on the swing, giving me a cup, and I take it, sipping a little and groaning.
“Your mint tea is the best.”
“That’s because you are used to it.”
“Maybe.” I wrap my hands around the mug and exhale. “Do you think I accepted the proposal too soon?”
His mug pauses midair, and then his brown eyes drill into me. “Do you?”
Liza jumps from my lap, and I fist my pajamas. “No, he’s perfect.” This sounds so lame coming from me, and by Grandpa’s frown, I know I’m not explaining it right. “He is perfect,” I repeat, and this time Grandpa laughs, choking a bit on his tea. “It’s not funny.” I send a glare to him, but he shakes his head.
“Love is not perfect, flower girl.”
“Then what is?” I can’t believe I’m asking my ancient grandfather what love is! Shouldn’t I know it for myself by this age? But then I’ve had a total of two serious boyfriends including Kevin, and a few one-night stands. None of which amounted to anything besides my fiancé.
So in a way, I have no freaking experience with it.
“It’s loving someone imperfect and creating a life together that’s not perfect… in the house that’s not perfect.”
I blink at his choice of words. “Is this what you had with Grandma?” I ask careful
ly, physically feeling as if I’m stepping on ice and it can crack at any minute.
My grandmother and mother are always off-limits topics. While I can study various photos in the house and see some resemblance with them, no one shares memories.
I think it’s too painful for him to remember Mom, but what about his wife? “Yes.” His voice is cold, detached, and ready to drop this subject.
And any other day I would have, but I just agreed to marry a man, and yet feel like it’s the biggest mistake of my life. There is no one else I can get advice or perspective from, except him. “Grandpa, please.”
He tenses next to me but then sighs, gazing to the horizon. “We loved each other; she was my everything.” He grins. “We built a beautiful life together here. And then we had the most beautiful baby girl. We couldn’t have been happier.” He takes a sip and then clears his throat. “Until I took a job at the mansion. Maggie got sick. And Arabella… well, she tangled with the wrong man.” My heart squeezes at the absolute devastation in his voice and at the flashback of my mom.
A woman who always smelled good and created mesmerizing compositions of flowers.
I twist on the swing and hug him closer, breathing in his scent and the security that I always find in his arms. He pats me on the arm and murmurs, “If your heart agrees with your head, he is the right choice.” He waits a second before adding, “Sometimes, even the most perfect thing, is not perfect for us.”
I lean back and give him a watery smile. “I’m going to prepare breakfast before the ranch hands arrive.” I give him a peck on the cheek and say, “After all, I’m a princess just like Mom.” His brow furrows, so I explain. “You had a princess who had her own princess.” Something flashes in his eyes at that, but I don’t dwell on it, dancing off in the direction of the kitchen.
That’s why I don’t hear when he murmurs, “A prince. She gave me a prince.”
Giselle
Leaning my head back, I study the shiny skyscraper in the sun, reflecting all the morning light, making it one of the most beautiful modern buildings. It’s spread horizontally and vertically so smoothly it reminds me of the lilies planted at Grandfather’s manor.