Caleb let loose with a deafening two-finger whistle. “I already arranged for a ride while you were on the phone with your father.” Before her ear pain dissipated, a yellow cab screeched to a halt at the curb, and Caleb had the back door opened, waiting for her to get inside. She hesitated. The vinyl seat was ripped, but otherwise appeared serviceable. She’d never been in a cab before, or any public transportation, for that matter.
Just then, her bodyguards stepped to her side, frowning. “Oh, Walter, Ralph. We have to get to the mansion. I have wedding planners waiting,” she said.
Walter Seibus, a six-foot-three-inch mountain of a man, eyed Caleb, as Ralph Toner kept his eyes on the surroundings. Walter wasn’t as large as Caleb, but he seemed as fierce. “Ma’am, I’d prefer if you rode with us.”
She shook her head. “Just go.” She wanted to ride in the cab, see what it was like. “Meet me at the mansion. Caleb has me, and I’m…on an adventure.”
Shoulders back, chin high, she ignored Walter’s frown and slipped inside the taxi, scooching over so Caleb could squeeze in, too. It smelled. She wrinkled her nose, trying to decide if she was smelling the driver’s discarded lunch or if this was just what cabs smelled like. Caleb’s bulk took up most of the seat, not leaving much room for her. In fact, by the time he closed the door, she was pressed against her door, behind the driver.
Caleb growled out the mansion’s address. The cabbie merged into traffic.
“What was Tony talking about?” she said. “‘Done.’ What did he do?”
Caleb shrugged. “It has nothing to do with us.” He draped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her close. Pressing his lips to her ear, he whispered, “Wanna make out?” She chuckled, but quieted when she caught the cabbie’s smile in the rearview mirror. Caleb’s distinctive voice was hard to ignore.
“Behave yourself,” she whispered back. He gave her another squeeze, again under the watchful eye of the cabbie. In fact, the cabbie was spending as much time looking at her as he did the road. It couldn’t be a safe practice. “So I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
“Yeah? About what?” His fingers were playing with a lock of her hair, twirling it around. It was distracting and had her sagging against him, needing his closeness. The driver was still prying, so she talked in code.
“We’re not really getting you-know-what,” she said, “but they’re here to discuss the details of you-know-what.”
Caleb suppressed a smile and did a horrible job of it. “Tilt your rearview mirror, Jimmy. I want to kiss my girl, and you’re creeping us out.” The cabbie laughed, flipped his mirror up.
Caleb kissed her. It was gentle, but had enough heat to make her forget what they were talking about. When he broke the kiss, she had to think for a few moments to remember the direction of her thoughts, then immediately went back to pressing her case. “Sooner or later, this cab is going to reach the mansion—”
He pressed his lips to her ear. “Let’s not discuss you-know-what here.” He glanced at the cabbie.
Caleb had referred to the cabbie by his first name, so obviously he knew the man. Was his call for her silence because Caleb didn’t want the cabbie to know they were getting married? Once again, her fake engagement felt like a real one, and when she was reminded it wasn’t, a sharp pain hit somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. If this went on much longer, she would have to go back into therapy, because the push-me-pull-me aspect of their deception was messing with her head. The therapist in her recognized the toxicity of their arrangement, but…the woman didn’t want to lose what she had with Caleb. He’d become important to her.
When her mind started playing with alternate solutions, like maybe they wouldn’t marry, but would continue dating, she knew she was beyond hope. First things first, she thought. Stop the arranged marriage and worry about whatever she and Caleb had between them after she’d enforced her personal boundaries. Any other outcome wasn’t…healthy.
“Fine. We won’t talk about it.” But it would be a long twenty minutes of worrying about strangers, their questions, and how she’d have to dance around them. A girl could handle only so much stress, and she’d reached her limit. In an alternative universe, she’d be in love, excited to hire wedding planners. She’d be bubbly, starry-eyed. What were the expectations for an arranged marriage? Did the wedding planners even know it was arranged? And if they did… Her insides dissolved at the prospect. Francesca wouldn’t put it past her father to bluntly admit to it. He wouldn’t see the situation like Francesca did, that she wasn’t good enough to get a husband the old-fashioned way. Love. Worse yet, they’d know Caleb had entered into a business transaction, not a love match. Her heart sank, and suddenly, the silence in the cab was intolerable. “I’ll text you.” She pulled out her iPhone.
“Huh?” He blinked, confused.
He didn’t want to talk? They’d text. Am I bubbly or dragging my feet?
He texted back. Ur sexy as hell & I want 2 make luv 2 u here, now, Jimmy behind the wheel be damned.
Not what she’d expected. Francesca gurgled a giggle.How do you know our driver?
Has biggest mouth this side of Mason-Dixon line. Everyone knows Jimmy.
So that’s why we can’t talk?
Knows ppl I know & don’t want in my bzness.
U r kissing me & I’m wearing a 10-ton diamond engagement ring, and we’re going to mansion. He either thinks u r my cabana boy, or we engaged. Cat out of bag.
He laughed, putting the phone down, saying, “Cabana boy?” He kissed her until she wrapped her arms around his neck, then broke the kiss, texting, U can’t get enough of me.
She smacked his beefy arm, all hot and bothered, wishing they weren’t in a cab so she could finish what he’d so casually started. She texted ferociously. Talking about wedding planners. Am I supposed to be excited about this or angry?
Which will ur father expect?
Me to tell him go to hell.
Y don’t U? He turned, reading her expression as she read his text.
Her thumbs didn’t have the strength to type the list of reasons, so she shrugged. Buying time. And goodwill.
C how u feel, then go for it. No right way 2 act when wedding planners come. He lowered his phone, looking out the window. “My thumbs weren’t made for texting.”
He had to turn the phone horizontally to prevent his thumbs from covering three letters at once, so she didn’t fault him for wanting to stop, and anyway, she had her answer. Caleb, no surprise, suggested she let her freak flag fly. Problem was, Francesca didn’t know if she had one. And allowing this farce to continue kept Caleb in her life without Francesca having to give up any of her pride.
She slipped her phone into her purse and replayed their conversation in her head. No right way to act when wedding planners come? How would Caleb know? Had he been married before? “Since when are you Miss Manners?” The cabbie chuckled.
“Can it, Jimmy.” Caleb didn’t smile, but didn’t hide his amusement, either. With a tug, Caleb had Francesca back under his arm again, embracing her with such force it emptied her lungs. “And you…stop worrying. I’ll take care of it. Promise.”
Jimmy gave a whistle. Something about Caleb’s words seemed to impress him. He flipped the rearview back down and met her curiosity with an interested smile. “Promise is a promise.”
“Jimmy.” Caleb’s mangled voice box was set to its most intimidating setting.
Yet the cabbie couldn’t be contained. “It’s his thing,” he said, hinting at an avalanche of withheld information.
Caleb showed no outward indication but his body tensed as if he were a coiled spring. She rested her hand over his heart and realized Jimmy had triggered Caleb. His heart was racing.
Francesca kept her gaze on Caleb’s face. “What thing, Jimmy?”
“Smith gives you a promise, it’s a deal. Good or bad.”
Francesca was left with more questions than not while Caleb stayed behind his impenetrable wall of inscrutability. The ana
lyst in her wanted to dig. Who was he protecting? Her or him?
“Jimmy,” Caleb said, “stop at the Walgreens at the corner. Double-park.”
“Sure thing,” the cabbie said.
“What are you doing?” she said. Caleb’s agitation had increased.
“You need a burner phone until I’m out of your life. Less chance of someone tracking you. When we get back to the mansion, I want you to retire yours until I’m gone.”
Until he was gone. That inevitability made her so sad. Yet if she had any question about whether or not Caleb was working to stop their marriage, it was gone now.
The cab pulled over, Caleb got out, but pivoted and leaned back in the cab, sending Jimmy some unspoken signal with a fierce look. Jimmy nodded. Caleb slammed the door and hurried into the store. Francesca felt odd being left in the cab alone and wondered if Walter and Ralph had seen them pull over. A glance out the back window showed no sign of them.
When Jimmy pulled a sawed-off shotgun from under his seat and cocked it, Francesca squealed, pressing her hands against the vinyl backrest. “Are you kidding me? What are you doing?”
Jimmy scanned the street. “Guarding you.”
“Is that…gun necessary?”
“Probably not.” He adjusted himself in his seat, peering out the back window. “But I saw a black sedan following us. I think I lost them back there, but I’m not willing to take a chance.” He did a full 360 scan. “I’m beginning to think you’re not just one of his girls.”
“He said he doesn’t have any.”
Jimmy chuckled. “Here one day, gone the next. Nice rock.” She glanced at her ring, immediately thinking if Caleb didn’t want Jimmy to know, he should have told her to take it off. “You’ve scrambled his brains or he’d never have done this to you.”
“What do you mean?”
Jimmy shrugged. “People like Smith have no business marrying. It’s a recipe for…well, you know.” No. Francesca didn’t. “But when a man’s in love, he’s not really thinking straight, so try to cut him some slack.” He scowled at a car double-parking in front of him. He honked his horn in three short bursts, then upped the ante with a wave of the shotgun. It got quick results. The car sped off, causing more honks and nearly a pileup, leaving Francesca little time to process his wild assumptions, and why she should be cutting Caleb…slack.
Caleb opened the door and slipped inside. Francesca’s relief was overwhelming. Then Jimmy tucked the shotgun under his seat and drove off as Caleb unpackaged and programmed the new phone. “You need me, call me.”
“I have bodyguards.” She didn’t need another. That wasn’t what Caleb was to her.
“You need me”—Caleb held her gaze, and the absolute grimness of his expression took her aback—“you call me.”
Jimmy was watching from the rearview, looking nervous. It made her feel as if he knew more about her fake fiancé than she did, so she nodded, feeling shaken and out of sorts.
Caleb turned to the front, staring out the side window. His body language effectively cut her off, and it was the first time he’d done that to her. Francesca couldn’t help but wonder if this was a preview of how he would leave her, cleanly, without passion. Then she’d be alone again.
She much preferred being the center of his attention, because with him brooding, staring out the side window, it felt as if the sun had gone behind the clouds. Her shoulders sagged, and suddenly she felt weepy and didn’t want to think about why that was. Wouldn’t think about it.
Dammit, would she ever learn? Caleb was just another man in her life she couldn’t count on.
Caleb drew her to his side, his arm firmly around her shoulders. When she glanced up, wondering if he would say something to distract her from her fears, she saw he still looked out the window, shutting her out.
The remainder of the drive was silent and somber. Jimmy didn’t wait for payment, and she hadn’t seen Caleb pay him, so she assumed this was another case of exchanged favors and dismissed it as odd, but in keeping with what she knew of Caleb.
They caught her father conferring with Michael, his chauffeur, on the stoop. Michael stepped back as soon a Francesca approached. “They’re in the parlor,” her father said.
“Are you coming or going?” she said, hoping to include him in the wedding planning. He would be in it, presumably, walking her down the aisle. Right? It saddened her to not know.
“I’ve just arrived, having returned from a meeting.” Her father was looking between her and Caleb, as if they were truants.
“Would you like to attend the meeting, Father? I haven’t seen you all week.” And she was upset. Couldn’t he see that?
“I’ve noticed that you’ve been entertained in my absences.” He exchanged a look with Caleb. Who, apparently in her father’s eyes, was her babysitter now.
“But…I moved into the mansion to see more of you.” Francesca did her best to control her tone, afraid of sounding petulant. When her father grimaced, she feared she’d failed. Then Michael opened the front entrance and her father paused. For a moment, she felt hope that maybe he’d changed his mind, or was willing to extend an olive branch.
“Smith,” he said, “I’ve a few matters to resolve, and then we can meet tonight in my office. I’ll be taking my dinner behind closed door, Francesca. No need to wait for me.” Then he stepped through the door, closing it behind him. Michael walked way, toward the garage.
The interaction felt like a punctuation for a lifetime of parental neglect.
“Why am I even here?” She didn’t know anymore. Normally her father’s behavior was a challenge to overcome, but today, she felt as if he were telling her to stop her efforts. He didn’t want her in his life, even this little bit that he had left. To him she was something to use. He wanted her married and pregnant with grandchildren to pass on his legacy.
Caleb crammed his hands in his jean pockets, his gaze on the cobblestoned walkway. “Don’t take it personally.”
“No,” she said. “Why would I?” She was only his daughter. “How long am I supposed to humor him? Until I’m walking down the aisle?”
His expression clouded. “Would that be such a bad thing?”
Her heart clutched, and suddenly she was fighting tears. Every day that they pretended to be a couple, and every night that Caleb made love to her as if she were precious to him, she ran the risk of falling in love with an evasive, distant, powerful man, with inexplicable hints of cruelty. Caleb was just her type. Yes, the sex was amazing, but she’d come to rely on his acceptance, his attention, his care. She was shooting herself in the foot, setting herself up for a broken heart. And unlike her father’s rejection—a lifetime’s atrophy of love that resulted in his apathy—Caleb’s rejection would be swift and devastating.
She sobbed. “Good going!” Now she’d be greeting the wedding planners with tears and a puffy face. She stormed up the walkway to the stairs leading to the entryway landing. “You don’t want me,” she said.
He followed her, keeping his distance, but she could tell he was upset also. “That’s not true.”
In bed, maybe. They were physically attracted to each other to a stunning degree, but maybe this was Caleb’s normal. Maybe he felt this way with all his “here today, gone tomorrow” women. Her heart clutched as she imagined him in bed with someone else, and…it hurt.
“Let me be clear,” she said. “I think you’ll be good for the company, but we both know you don’t want to marry me any more than I want to marry you. So drop the pretense.” She reached for the door knob, but Caleb stopped her, embracing her, holding her tightly to his chest. It felt good, safe, but she couldn’t trust it.
“Francesca—” If he continued talking, she knew he’d be able to convince her of anything, so she shook her head, digging deep for the courage to do the right thing.
She pushed out of his arms. “This is me giving you a deadline. I can’t do this anymore. One week. Secure your position before then, because I can’t survive a couple hundred
guests at the Ritz-Carlton being told my wedding is canceled. I refuse to be humiliated like that. Are we clear?”
Caleb stepped away from her and folded his arms over his chest. It was an intimidating sight. “It won’t get that far.”
She stomped her foot and pointed at the entrance. “There are wedding planners in my parlor!”
“I said I’ll take care of it.” He opened the front door and took her hand, leading her inside. “We’ll make a few decisions. Taste some cake. No biggie.”
As soon as she stepped into the palatial hall, her anger morphed to anxiety. “A girl shouldn’t feel this way when she’s planning her wedding.”
“Francesca—” Caleb tugged her to him and kissed her, holding her so tightly he lifted her off her feet. Feet dangling, the kiss was sweet and with as much vigor as a girl could tolerate before an introduction to her wedding planners. Then Caleb set her back down. “You going to be okay, honey?”
She found she was. “Don’t leave my side. We clear? We’re a team.”
Caleb did a double take. “What did you say?”
“I said we’re a team. You and me.” She pulled open the door and entered.
Caleb was right beside her. Then stopped short. “No. Fucking. Way.”
His tone was…scary. Three strangers sat on the couch, conferring over paperwork laid out on the coffee table. They stood upon hearing Caleb’s unfortunate greeting, each wearing noncommittal smiles, humoring the client, no doubt. The whole scene made Francesca cringe, hating horrible first impressions.
“Man up,” she whispered. “You’re staying.”
Caleb’s expression hinted of simmering rage. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” That should have reassured her, but he said it between clenched teeth. “Promise.”
Hmm. Francesca extended her hand toward the lone woman in the group. “My name is Francesca Hamilton, and this”—she indicated with a tilt of her head—“is my fiancé, Caleb Smith.”
Seduced by Sin (Unlikely Hero) Page 12