Brutal Protector: A Dark College Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Westforde College Book 2)

by Serena Lyons

  I do as I’m told, I want to get Faith’s grandma on side, for reasons I can’t fully explain. “I’m not sure there’s that much to tell.”

  Behind me Faith chokes on a wry laugh. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m just a student two years ahead of Faith.”

  “What are you studying? Oh hang on, that’s not the word I’m supposed to use with you smarty-pants down at Oxford. What are you ‘reading?’” Gwen rolls her eyes and makes quote marks in the air.

  “PPE, same as Faith.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know why none of you youngsters study anything useful these days. All her life Faith told me she was going to be a doctor, and then she changes her mind with twelve months to go.”

  Behind Gwen, Faith’s expression darkens, wistfulness taking over. I want to go over and hug her.

  “Well I’d be a useless doctor, I faint at the sight of blood.” I lie, trying to make Faith smile again.

  “Liar!” She sticks her tongue out and a warm joy spreads out from my chest. “You didn’t faint when you—.” She stops abruptly, expression stricken. Clearly she hasn’t told her Gran about the attack.

  I’m torn between the urge to say something, to have someone else order Faith to look after herself and stay out of harm’s way and the knowledge that she’ll be furious if I do.

  “When what?” Gwen’s voice increases in pitch as her beady eyed stare ricochets between Faith and I.

  My brain takes over. “When I had to get stitches after a rugby match two weeks ago. Though come to think of it, Faith was more shaken than me. I’ve never seen anyone cry like that.”

  “Ha, I think we remember that afternoon quite differently.”

  “Ooh I left my phone upstairs, charging. Be back in a second.” Gwen bustles out of the room.

  I move over to Faith, trapping her between me and the kitchen counter. “How am I doing, darling?”

  “Stop being so over the top,” Faith hisses as the stairs creak.

  “Over the top?” I reach out and lift her chin so she’s staring straight into my eyes.

  “She can’t see us, there’s no need to keep acting now.” Faith says, but she doesn’t make any effort to move away from me.

  “Maybe I’m not acting,” I gently tilt her chin and start moving towards her mouth.

  “What does that mean?” Faith’s voice is lower than usual and it makes all my annoyance go away. This is real. I want to do this, history dammed.

  “It means maybe I like being your boyfriend.” I haven’t been anyone’s boyfriend since Millie. But Faith makes me feel like I’m enough. She’s strong enough, that she doesn’t need me to be everything, to be perfect.

  Faith’s eyes sparkle and the corner of her mouth turns up. She’s goddamn beautiful. “I thought you didn’t do serious?”

  “I haven’t found anyone who’s made me want to before.”

  “Aren’t you love’s young dream?” I spin around and Gwen’s smiling at us from the doorway.

  5: Faith

  Fuck, did Callum mean what he just said? Or is he doing some method acting high jinx? My heart is hammering as he goes back to his cup of tea. I’m not sure I can cope if that wasn’t real.

  “I wish you’d told me you were coming, I’d have made all your favourites.” Gran heads straight for the fridge. “I’m running low right now, all I’ve got in is jacket potato and beans.”

  “Don’t be silly, we’ll take you out for dinner. We’re the ones who turned up uninvited.” Callum moves towards the hall. “Where’s good around here?”

  “No!” I yelp. “Let’s stay in it’ll be more cozy.” I glare at Callum and try to mouth the words ‘what if someone sees us together?’ while Gran’s back is turned. We can’t just go out and eat together, if we bumped into Millie’s family that would ruin any hopes of us finding out some intel.

  “Oh, yeah, good point.” Callum laughs easily. “Well we’re the uninvited guests so I insist that we cook up a storm in here while Gwen relaxes. How are you as a sous chef, Faith?”

  “Sous chef to who?”

  “Me of course. What’s the nearest shop that’ll be open?” Callum beams.

  “There’s a Tesco Express in the village.” Gran answers. The traitor.

  “Great, it’s a Friday so how does homemade fish cakes and a pineapple crumble for dessert sound? I’ll pop out for the ingredients now.”

  I’m about to scream no at him and stop myself just in time. It wouldn’t be easy to explain that to Gran.

  “Sounds delicious,” Gran smiles and slams the fridge door shut. “When cooking’s your job, there’s nothing like having someone do it for you.”

  I wince, Callum knows my Gran is essential a modern day servant, but I hate the fact he keeps getting reminded of it. “You go and rest your feet in the front room,” I tell her. “Cal and I will work out what we need from the shops.”

  “Thanks, love.” She squeezes my hand as she walks to the door. “This is such a treat having you visit for the weekend, you don’t know how much I missed you.”

  I wait until the TV starts in the front room before turning to Callum. “Are you deliberately being stupid? You can’t go to the shop, someone might see you. That’s as bad as eating out.”

  “I doubt Lady xxx shops at Tesco,” Callum rolls his eyes. “But if you’re so worried, you can do the honours.” He picks up a pen from the side and starts writing on a scrap of paper from his jeans. “Here’s what I need.” He holds the note out to me.

  “Really?” I can’t believe he thinks he can just order me about.

  “Oh yeah, of course.” Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans he pulls out a money clip, then extracts a couple of neatly folded red notes and hands them to me. “For the shopping.”

  I stare down at them. I’ve never seen a fifty pound note before. What’s life like when you give someone £150 to do a small Tesco shop?

  When I look up Callum’s walking into the hall. “Where are you going?”

  His teeth flash. “I’m expecting Gwen to entertain me with embarrassing stories while you’re gone.”

  “Oh God.” I groan following him out of the kitchen, the quicker I get going, the quicker I’m back. I half run to the shop, remembering all the godawful embarrassing things Gran could tell Callum while I’m gone.

  They’re talking when I open the front door, but they immediately go silent when the wind causes the door to slam into the wall. I drop the heavy bags in the hall and go to the small front room their voices came from. Gran is sat in her favourite armchair by the window, and Callum’s long limbs are almost folded in on themselves in the tiny sofa.

  “You two sound like you’re getting on well?”

  “We have a lot in common.” Callum grins.

  “Such as?”

  “Music, arts, culture.”

  “What specifically were you chatting about?”

  They both smile at me, a smug sort of smile that makes it clear I’m not going to get any of the details of what they’ve been talking about.

  “Fine. We better get started on food, or else it’ll be midnight by the time we eat.” I stare pointedly at Callum.

  “Gwen, it’s been a pleasure,” he straightens up and almost does a half-bow at my Gran. “Hopefully our cooking will be worth the interruption.”

  “Ugh are you always so slimy around parents?” I stomp into the hall, annoyed that they’ve already formed a little twosome against me.

  “Slimy? I prefer to think of it as charming.” He laughs and picks up the three bags as if they have candyfloss inside. “And I want her to like me. I know she’s important to you.”

  Something in my belly turns to liquid. Callum Carter-Wright wants my Gran to like him. I try to swallow down my excitement about what exactly that might mean.

  “Where are your parents?” Callum has his back to me as he empties the groceries and washes the vegetables.

  I pause before answering. “She’s the only parent I’ve ever really known. I�
�ve no idea who my Dad is and my Mam overdosed when I was six.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry Faith,” Callum spins around, his eyes showing true emotion and his hands dripping water all over the floor.

  “It’s just how it is, and Gran’s the best.” I busy myself emptying the final bag of shopping. “So what’s my first task, boss?”

  “See, I knew you’d come around to me being in charge,” Callum winks at me and some of the tension in my chest eases. “First up the glamorous task of washing and peeling the potatoes please.”

  “Whoop-de-do,” I roll my eyes, but it’s actually quite nice having something to concentrate on that isn’t how we’re going to track down Millie’s killer. “What are you doing while I’m doing the grunt work?”

  “Checking the seasoning options.” Callum opens a cupboard.

  “Hmm, sounds like I’m getting all the hard tasks.”

  “Save your complaints for after you’ve tasted by perfectly seasoned fish cakes please. Something tells me you won’t be complaining then.”

  “Are you always so arrogant?” I start peeling the first potato.

  “I’m not arrogant, I just know what I’m good at.” Callum’s voice gets closer to me and every nerve cell in my body stands to attention. “Cooking… kissing…” Oh God his lips graze the sensitive skin of my neck and desire explodes inside of me. “Other things I’d love to show you later.”

  “Stop it.” I try to swat him away.

  “What if I don’t want to stop?” His tongue caresses the hollow of my neck and I can’t help but giggle.

  “Sounds like you’re having fun cooking, what have you done to my granddaughter? A slice of toast is usually all she’s good for.”

  Annoyingly, Callum is right—his food is perfectly seasoned and goddamn delicious. Gran’s looking a lot happier with him now. Any man who’s willing to roll up his sleeves and do women’s work is a keeper in her books.

  “That was delicious, Callum, you can come and visit any time you want.” She says letting her spoon fall into the empty crumble bowl with a clatter.

  “Excellent.” Callum smiles wickedly at me. “Good to know I have an ally in the family if I ever annoy Faith.”

  “Right kids, that’s me done for. I’ve got an early start tomorrow, Lady Muck has her bridge group over and I need to bake gluten-free cakes, dairy-free cakes and cater to a million different intolerances.”

  We sit in silence as Gran climbs the creaking stairs. Now it’s just the two of us, this room feels too small and I realise I drank far too much wine with dinner.

  “I’m pretty knackered too,” I say to Callum when Gran’s bedroom door closes. “Let me get you settled.”

  “You can sleep here,” I open the door to my bedroom, still with a diamante pink F on the door that I’ve had since I was nine.

  “This is your room?” Callum steps in and surveys the small space crammed with everything I’ve ever cared about. My battered book collection, my gymnastics trophies, the posters of boy-bands.

  “Yup.” I nod as hotness engulfs me. I wish I’d thought to come up and hide everything. Seeing Callum take in all my worldly possessions is somehow more intimate than making out with him that first night. I can’t help but compare by worn and dated interior to his sleek townhouse filled with expensive treasures. It’s a good thing this relationship is just an act, we come from completely different worlds.

  “And you’re inviting me into your bed?” He raises an eyebrow.

  I flush brighter. “On to it. I’ll be on the floor.” I grab the door handle, needing something to steel my willpower. There’s something all too appealing about the idea of lying next to Callum on my small single bed. Having his hard body wrapped around mine. The heat of him. touching me. “We don’t need to pretend in here.”

  “Pretend?”

  “You know for Gran, that we’re a couple.”

  His cheek twitches, then he walks towards me. “I can’t throw you out of your own bed.” His large hand closes over mine.

  I freeze, my gaze instinctively moving to his eyes. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to take his hand and get into bed beside him. “It’s fine.” I shake his hand off and find some pajamas. “I’m just going to brush my teeth.”

  My heart is thundering as I look at myself in the mirror. I wanted to get into bed beside Callum, what the hell does that make me?

  I pull on my flannel pyjamas, chosen for minimum sex appeal and go back to my bedroom.

  “Oh,” I gasp as I walk in. Callum is lying on top of my bed wearing just his black boxer shorts. His chiselled abs glisten in the light from by bedside lamp and it’s like he’s reclining for an artist. He looks handsome enough to be painted for eternity.

  “I didn’t bring anything to sleep in, I usually sleep naked.”

  Oh Christ, images of Callum’s entire naked body take over my brain. “Uh-huh.” I gulp, not able to form a sentient sentence. I pull a sleeping bag down from above my wardrobe and roll it out on the floor.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to join me in bed?” Callum pats the mattress next to him and my body screams to go and wrap myself around him.

  “No, I’ll sleep on the floor.” I can’t even look at my bed with him lying there, topless. His tight abs glimmer. I long to reach over, touch him like we did that first night, but I can’t. I shouldn’t.

  “I won’t bite.” He grins wickedly. “Or at least not unless you ask me to.”

  Ice grips my insides. It’s enough to remind me of him kissing Jess in front of me. The way he picked up and dropped Millie so many times, that he ground her down, even if he didn’t mean to.

  “I prefer the floor.” I huff. “Give me one of the pillows.” I stretch my hand out, not daring to get any closer to him.

  He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing and passes it over.

  I plump it up then lie down, my hip already screaming from the hard floor beneath me.

  Eventually his breath deepens, becomes more rhythmic and I know he’s fast asleep. I still can’t relax. Every fibre of my body wishes I hadn’t said no, that I was curled up in his arms.

  Just because the mattress would be more comfortable than the floor. Not because I want to feel his naked chest against me.

  Yeah, right. I damn well hope this weekend helps us get some clues about Millie, because I’m not sure I’m going to be able to cope with any more time alone with Callum investigating.

  6: Callum

  I only actually visited Millie’s house once when we were dating, but the long driveway is achingly familiar. The Charrington’s house is one of the classiest I’ve ever stayed in. Whereas my parents and all their nouveau riche friends try that bit too hard with their ostentatious mansions, this one is perfectly done on every level.

  Mature gardens that appear to have been centuries in the making and aren’t centered around a gaudy swimming pool or twenty-person hot-tub. The flashy touches of conspicuous consumption are missing; no helipad or tacky fountain.

  I stop my car on the gravel driveway before I come into view of the house. I find Lady Charrington’s number and call it.

  “Callum?” Lady Charrington sounds like a high-ranking member of the royal family, she’s so posh.

  “Lady Charrington,” I try to keep my voice casual as if this is just a regular courtesy call. “You live in xxx, correct?”

  There’s a moment’s hesitation before she answers. “Yes.”

  “Well I’m just passing through your village now.”

  “Really? What are the chances?”

  High when I drove for six hours just to come here, but she doesn’t have to know that. “Great coincidence, right? I was in Newcastle for a rugby match and got benched so I set off for a drive to decompress and here I find myself in your village. It must be a sign.”

  “A sign?” Her voice fills with trepidation.

  “I’d love to come by and see you. Please tell me you have some time today?”

  “Well, actually I’m afrai
d I have the ladies from my bridge group arriving in,” she pauses dramatically. “About six minutes.”

  “Then I’ll come by afterwards.” I check my Rolex, it’s eleven now. “Would three pm work?”

  “Don’t be silly, you can’t wait around Moreton for four hours, you’ll be bored out of you brain.”

  “It’s either that or go back to the match and pick an argument with the coach. You’d be doing me a favour keeping me here for a few hours.”

  “Hmm, well if you insist…”

  I stay silent, I’m not saying anything that will give her an excuse not to let me visit.

  “In that case you may as well come to the house now. I’ll be busy with my ladies until three but you’ll need feeding and the village pub’s fare is so disgusting I wouldn’t even feed that to my dogs. Come up now and my lady can make you a nice home-cooked lunch. She’s not got a lot of range, but she does a good job with the classics.”

  It takes me a second to realise that she’s talking about Gwen. Talking about her like she’s a subordinate. I’ll figure out how to avoid Gwen when I get there. “That’s terribly kind of you,” I channel my best impression of Rafe. “See you shortly.”

  I wait five minutes before turning on the engine and driving up the remaining two kilometers to the house.

  Lady xxx is standing outside the front door on the gravel turning circle, wearing a twinset, pearls and a mid-calf skirt that’s flowing in the November breeze.

  “Lady xxx,” I jump out of the car and stride towards her. “Thank you so much for letting me invite myself over at such short notice.”

  She pales as she turns to me. A kernel of guilt twists in my stomach, I didn’t really think how seeing her dead daughter’s ex-boyfriend might impact her.

  “Not at all, it’s a pleasure seeing you, do come in.” She says the right words, but her smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

  “Thank you,” I pull out a bouquet of flowers from the passenger seat, because Lady Charrington is not the sort of person you turn up empty handed to. “Have your bridge ladies arrived?”