Call You Mine

by Claudia Burgoa

  It’s his nature.

  “Toy?” I sound too scared.

  Oh God, what did he do?

  I can see him buying a huge dildo, an inflatable man, or the Fifty Shades of Sex beginner set. The one Seth shared with us last week. The same day he found out about my list. Everyone who belongs to our group chat knows about this dating exercise. Since Beacon is in exile, they’ve been cracking a lot of jokes.

  My two brothers and the guys know that I’m heading to Baker’s Creek to…well, I said learn how to date. It doesn’t look like that’s the case anymore. We’re really dating, aren’t we?

  I look at Beacon, wondering if we should discuss what’s happening. I stop overthinking when I notice his grin. He looks so happy, I smile. This is how I like to see him—relaxed. From the outside, he looks chill. Everyone thinks he gives no fucks about anything, but it’s obvious they don’t know him at all. He’s the most caring guy in the world. He’s always watching over everyone.

  Beacon’s mission is to protect those around him. He never lets his guard down. Unfortunately, he’s also cynical. He has a hard time trusting those who have hurt him. My mission is to see him like this: happy, calm, and trouble-free.

  This might be the result of not working for Dad. Is it his primary duty that keeps him stressed all the time? I need to figure out what he does on the side.

  “Mr. Aldridge,” the receptionist greets him. “We have your package in the security room, as your brother requested.”

  “Thank you, Monica,” he says, saluting her.

  Though I stayed at some of the Merkel hotels worldwide, I’ve never been to their headquarters. I know they have a great security team in each location because Beacon makes sure he has access to them when either one of us is on tour. That’s the problem with traveling with a world-renowned celebrity. We have to make sure his groupies can’t get to him.

  “There’s a security room here?”

  “It’s actually more than just a room. You can monitor every hotel in the world from here,” he explains.

  “How do you know? Have you told any of them about The Organization?”

  He shakes his head and sighs. He tried to convince Vance to join us, not that he told him he’s part of The Organization. He said he’s okay without working for now.

  “Vance is in charge of their security,” he explains. “He convinced Henry to centralize everything here.”

  “He did?” I ask when I see his grin expand.

  “Sure. I just gave him the information about a buddy who has the best equipment. This friend happened to consult with him and gave him some suggestions.”

  “Indirectly, you sold him the equipment and set it the way you wanted.”

  He nods and smirks like a child who played his big brothers.

  “Yep. We actually convinced Henry to replace all his equipment around the world.” He gives me a mischievous look. “The Organization has access to everything. In theory, we just expanded our reach around the world. My brothers just don’t know it.”

  “Not even Vance?”

  He shakes his head. “They still think I’m just a stupid musician. I want it to stay that way.”

  When we get to the room, he tilts his head toward the handle. “Try it.”

  “It requires a code and fingerprint recognition.”

  “Just do it,” he insists.

  I humor him. The reader lights up after scanning my thumbprint. I enter my access code, and the locks open. I wiggle the handle and push the door wide open.

  “How?”

  “We set it so most of the agents in The Organization can use it,” he states.

  “And they pay for it?” I ask, impressed. “Dad agreed to this?”

  “As long as we’re in control, we can access the system. It’s part of the package they purchased,” he continues. “Seth’s team did a great job selling the equipment and our consulting services. They can’t access our system because they wouldn’t know what they are looking for. Plus, your dad’s security wouldn’t allow them to enter.”

  I roll my eyes because this sounds like something Seth and Beacon would concoct together. When I pay attention to the room, my heart flutters. “Oh, my God!

  It’s not the panels or the room that look a lot like my father’s security room at headquarters. Nope. It’s the Joseph Grubaugh & Sigrun Seifert box standing only a few feet from me.

  I might be wrong and he has a dead body in there, but what else can it be? If I’m right, that’s a big, beautiful, and gorgeous cello.

  “What is that?” I ask, with a giddy voice.

  “Well, you don’t like to drag Camilla out of the house—unless it is just next door to mine,” he refers to the first full-size cello I’ve owned and still use for practice. Mom and Dad’s gift when I turned twelve.

  Most girls my age wanted a horse, a new phone, or a laptop. I wanted a full-size cello.

  “Constanza is your traveling girl, but you only use her during concerts,” he continues. “I decided to buy you a new cello so you can practice here.”

  Women might love flowers, jewelry, or candy. I adore musical instruments—new, old, collectibles, or souvenirs.

  I want all of them.

  “Beac.” My voice comes out breathy, surprised.

  His intense gaze sets on me. It casts an air of danger, boring through me. It’s filled with so many unspoken emotions. He looks like sin. Like a fantasy that I want to fulfill right now. The tug he has over me is new, yet it feels like a part of me that I’ve repressed for years.

  “I just know it’s important for you. Renting one wasn’t an option.” I hate when he finds ways to make big gestures insignificant.

  “Wait, I thought you were wooing me with this instead of flowers. Don’t give me a lame excuse of why you did it.”

  He shoves his hands inside his pockets and balances his weight.

  “It’s harder than I thought.”

  “What? Dating me?”

  “No.” He gives me that boyish smile I adore. “I mean, stop pretending that everything I do is because we’re friends.”

  “You’re telling me that everything you do is because you…” I frown. Is there any other reason?

  “The short answer is yes. You never see me buying shit for the guys or your brothers,” he says. “Now, let’s go to our next stop.”

  Instead of leaving, I take a couple of steps and wrap my arms around his neck. Pushing myself onto my tiptoes, I press my lips against his. He opens his mouth, and my tongue sweeps inside his. Beacon’s palm clamps around my neck, deepening the kiss. The fingers of his other hand dig into my ass, and I want him so badly to press me against the wall and just take me.

  “You’re going to stop us, aren’t you?” I ask as soon as he breaks our contact.

  “This hurts me a lot more than you think.” He sighs, releasing me from his embrace. “You’re throwing a few curveballs. I’m having trouble dodging them.”

  He picks up the box. “Open the door for me, G. We have plenty of places to visit. My agenda doesn’t include making out in the dashboard room.”

  “I was thinking about sex,” I correct him right as we’re on our way outside of the room.

  “Later, Monica,” he says.

  I wave at the receptionist, who glares at me.

  “Please, don’t get me wrong,” I start.

  “Did I fuck up?”

  “What?”

  “You’re about to tell me what I did wrong?”

  “Not at all. I loved our day together,” I correct him. “It’s just that this felt like any other day with Beacon Aldridge.”

  After leaving the corporate offices of Merkel Hotels, we went downtown where we spent the day visiting stores and enjoying each other’s company. He even prepared a picnic for me. We ate in the car since it’s too cold to go to a park.

  His attention remains on the road, but his smile widens. “I told you we’ve been on friend dates.”

  “Right,” I quip. “That’s a cre
ative way to tell me that you don’t know how to date.”

  He laughs, reaches for my hand, and kisses it. “Sure.”

  To no one’s surprise, I fall asleep. It’s already dark when we reach Baker’s Creek.

  “You’re the worst traveling companion,” he complains when I’m stretching.

  “Why are we here?” I ask, noticing there are at least twenty cars parked in this huge garage. We’re at his family’s place. “I have a house.”

  “We’re just leaving the car here,” he explains. “It makes sense since later I have to unload the cello in the studio. The guys already dropped your stuff at the rental. We’re walking there so you can get ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “You think this is it?”

  “It’s not?”

  “We have reservations ”—he licks his lips—“at The Lodge. We got the private dining room.”

  “Upping up the game.”

  He gives me a peck on the lips. “Are you challenging me, Grace?”

  “So far I haven’t seen anything new.”

  He takes my hand, feathers kisses on the inside of my wrist, and we walk away. I don’t understand what’s happening between us yet. I’m loving it, and it’s just day one.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Grace

  We walk to my new place in silence. That’s an unspoken rule among the Aldridges. Anything they say is tweeted before they reach their next destination. They are like the town’s celebrities. It didn’t use to be a problem before they came to live here. I guess it’s because not many knew that Beacon was an Aldridge.

  When I get to my place, Beac gives me a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

  After I close the door, I check my phone. There are a few texts from Mom. The last one makes me laugh.

  Mom: Call. Your dad is having a conniption.

  Instead of reading the rest of her texts, I call her.

  “Gracie,” she starts. “I feel like you skipped a chunk of information when you told me you were temporarily relocating to Baker’s Creek.”

  “Hey, Mom,” I greet her, trying to sound cool.

  It’s hard to erase the guilt in my voice. I feel like I was trying to sneak into the house past curfew, and my parents caught me. Not that it ever happened. I was out of the house a couple of weeks before my sixteenth birthday.

  Most of the college parties I attended were at our place, and alcohol was never a problem. The Organization has rules. Underage drinking would’ve gotten us fired immediately.

  “You and Beacon are dating?” I’m not sure if she’s upset, asking a question, or about to lecture me.

  The silence on the other line makes me feel uneasy. “It’s a trial,” I continue. “More like a teaching moment.”

  Okay, now I sound desperate and foolish.

  “Those can go wrong.” Her motherly warning voice doesn’t go unnoticed. “What are you planning on doing when this trial ends?”

  She’s already skipping the entire story and heading to the end. Her tone implies it will be tragic. She’s such a positive person. Why does she have to be gloomy when I need her to be Mrs. Positive?

  I love Mom. She’s wise, but she has her faults too. Today, I won’t deal with that flaw of hers that I hate so much—her catalog of useless experiences. Sorry, but just because it happened to someone she knows, it doesn’t mean it will happen to me.

  Some days it feels like she wants me to stay at home—forever in a safe haven where nothing and no one will hurt my feelings because she’s watching over me.

  “Please, don’t tell me you have some cautionary tale about this situation, too,” I say, and this time I am slightly upset. “I’m not you, Mom. When things end, Beacon and I will continue to be friends.”

  I think.

  I hope.

  I need to believe that this won’t damage our friendship. Beacon promised me that. He’s never broken any promises so far.

  She chuckles. “I did have a stupid friend who was my friend with benefits for some time.”

  “Oh.” My stomach drops because I wasn’t expecting that. Nor the humor in her voice.

  At least, she remembers him fondly. That means it’s going to be okay with Beacon, right?

  Listen, I’m really not my mother, but sometimes I do listen to her because she’s lived longer than me. I still hate that she’s always warning me.

  Like seriously, let me experience life, woman.

  Should I have continued with Beacon after her forewarning when I was sixteen?

  I’ll never know. She’s never told us much about the first guy she dated. We learned that they were together for almost five years—without the knowledge of my grandparents. Things ended up bad because he was an addict and abused her.

  I don’t think she can compare that guy with Beacon. Maybe Beacon and I could’ve worked in the long run, but I won’t go back to the should’ve, would’ve, could’ve word game. Nobody ever wins it.

  “So, how did that turn out?” I ask curiously.

  “It was good in the beginning. Then it turned messy for a couple of weeks until he pulled his head out from his ass.”

  “So, you dated him?”

  “More like I married the man. We have three kids,” she responds.

  “Interesting.” I try not to gloat, but what she’s saying is that it worked out for her.

  My parents have been together for a long time. I didn’t know they were just fooling around. It adds a layer to the “we were friends first” tale they always tell us.

  And if it worked for them, it might work out for me too.

  “I’m concerned about what’s going to happen after because I know you two are close, and he’s not family material. Your dad is concerned because he thinks this might end up bad for other reasons. Either way, I want you to reconsider your plan.”

  “What reasons?” I ask, curious about his motives.

  “Your safety for one. He’s famous, and we know how his groupies react when there is some news of him dating.”

  “If you recall, he handles his private life.” I pause and sigh. “Listen, he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

  This is not a joke. Beacon has always been watching over me.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because it feels right, Mom. It always felt right, but we never dared to take that leap.”

  After a long silence, she says, “Call me if you need me.”

  “Love you, Mom.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Grace

  This is the first time I set foot in this house. Beacon gave me a virtual tour over the phone so I could have an idea about the setting. The walls are a cream color. They remind me of beach sand. The flooring is dark wood. The furniture I bought is already here. It’s just a sofa, an oversized couch, and a dining room table and chairs. According to the text Mane sent earlier, my bed is already in my bedroom.

  I walk through the place and find boxes in each room. The guys put my luggage in the main room and the packages they brought inside the second room.

  Mozart isn’t in the house. When I text the guys to ask about him, Mane answers that he’s in the studio with them. He’s not familiar with the place. They didn’t want to leave him alone. Since I don’t have to worry about him until later, I shower and dress.

  I choose a long black skirt, a halter top, and take out one of the thick parkas to protect me from the cold weather. I pick a pair of knee-high boots and add a little touch, a garter to hold my stockings.

  Right as I wrap my purple scarf around my neck, Beacon rings the doorbell. When I open it, my heart skips a few beats. It’s not that he looks handsome—he always does. He’s holding a red rose and a small box.

  “Hey, stranger,” I greet him, taking the rose and the box.

  “So, are you finally taking me seriously?” he asks, kissing my nose.

  I arch an eyebrow, not understanding his question.

  “Your dad cal
led. He threatened to kill me in my sleep.” He gives me that shrug that says, I just deduced. “Sounds like you told him I’m more than the string of guys you like to send to the hospital because they complimented your shoes.”

  I glare at him. “It was one time!”

  He bursts into laughter. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

  Since he’s talking about Dad. I ask, “What’s that duty you never talked about?”

  He sighs. “Can we have dinner first? I need to woo you, make you fall in love, and then afterward, I’ll tell you. I have a feeling that you’re going to decimate me.”

  That answer doesn’t make sense for some. To me, it is the piece I need to solve the puzzle. Everything is so clear. Why my parents are so concerned about the outcome. Why Dad’s so apprehensive and threatened to replace him. Why Beacon is always too protective.

  “Are you kidding me, Beacon Aldridge,” I say, glaring at him.

  He’s right about one thing. I might kick his ass for agreeing with my father. They know I can take care of myself.

  Or they never trusted me.

  “When did it start?”

  He scratches his eyebrow and swallows hard.

  “I have a wild guess that it happened when we moved to New York,” I state. “Because there’s no other way my father would let me out of his sight if not by entrusting me to one of his security details.”

  I lift my arms, as in giving up, at not sure who or what. “I can’t believe it. All these years, he…” I close my mouth and sigh harshly. I place my index finger on his chest and push him against the wall. “Have I been just a job for you?”

  I don’t want to sound like an irrational woman, but he knows better.

  “You’re more than a duty to me,” he says, his voice wavering, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this frightened. Not even when he’s had a gun pointing at him. “It was just—”

  “You lied to me.” I press my finger against his chest.

  “By omission because he requested it. If I told you, he’d fire me. I stepped into the role because I couldn’t imagine anyone else watching over you.”