Page 21 of Callum

My body presses forward on instinct, and I allow my face to soften. Trailing my gaze down his neck, I bring one hand up to draw a pattern into the soft fabric of his dress shirt. “Why do you think?”

“Is that your game, then? You’re trying to pit me against my brother?”

“How will I do that if neither of you cares about me?” The ridiculous batting of my lashes turns out to be too much. Callum sees straight through my lie, his hand wrapping around my wrist as he steps out of my reach.

“If you’re already that desperate to get fucked again, I’m sure we could come to some kind of arrangement.”

The cockiness in his tone makes me bristle, ripping my arm out of his grasp. “Are you that desperate to fuck me again?”

He laughs deep in his chest, the sound shooting straight to my core. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about me, Red.”

Fuck him. I never would have been forced back into sex work if he hadn’t left me here, and now he’s rubbing it in my face as if I wanted any of it. “Good, because I’ve slept with a lot of men since you left, and I have to tell you, you’re not as good as you think you are.”

“Is that why you were begging me to make you come?”

“That’s not—”

“I knew you were pathetic, but this is excessive. You’re not going to goad me into fucking you.”

Anger cracks up my spine, but I cannot lose control. That’s what he wants, and I refuse to give it to him. “After that shit you pulled last night, I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, much less my fucking vagina.”

“Sure, Red. Whatever you say,” he smiles at me across the island, the look in his eyes far too knowing. “Now eat.”

“No.” I cross both arms over my chest defiantly.

“I may not be the MacAlister you went running to,” he picks up the yogurt, using his spoon to stir it absentmindedly. When his gaze meets mine again, the look in his eyes makes me shiver. “But I’m the one you’re stuck with. Eat the fucking yogurt, Red.”

He holds the spoon out to me, a heaping scoop of yogurt aimed straight toward my mouth. I have the overwhelming urge to slap the spoon out of his hand. “No.”

“Red,” he snarls, dropping the container on the counter. He’s still pointing the spoon in my direction but doesn’t seem to expect me to take it any longer. “If you continue to defy me, I will keep you so heavily sedated you’ll drown in your own fucking mind. You don’t deserve my sympathy or my kindness, and allowing you to roam freely about this house is a kindness.”

“You aren’t the first man to hold me against my will, and I doubt you’ll be the last.”

He steps toward me again, our chests so close they brush with each seething breath. “Do not test me, Red, or I’ll make you wish Kyler had finished the job. Now, eat.”

Leaning forward, I wrap my lips around the spoon as slowly as I can manage. I make a show of licking every drop of yogurt before pulling away. His eyes are locked on my lips, and I can’t help but open my mouth to show him I’ve swallowed it all. “Can I take a shower now?”

Callum’s lips twitch, holding back the smile I see dancing in his eyes at my partial submission to his demand. The mother fucker is enjoying this.

“Do not remove that patch from your neck. And don’t get your leg wet,” are the only barked instructions I get before he turns away from me, leaving my path to the hall unblocked. He plops a spoonful of yogurt into his own mouth as he begins to tap out a text on his phone.

I limp past him, not bothering to hide the fact that I pull another knife from the butcher block on the counter. I know he sees me, but he doesn’t say anything. Slipping through the open bathroom door, I force it shut the moment I’m across the threshold. Locking the door is an instinctual move that I know will do nothing to keep Callum out if he decides to come for me.

Getting undressed without disturbing the gauze on my leg is more difficult than I imagined, but I manage to get everything off and hobble my way over to the shower.

How the fuck am I supposed to avoid getting my leg wet?

After much internal debate and two disastrously failed attempts, I end up sitting on the shower floor with my right leg hanging outside of the water’s spray.

I’ve just turned off the shower when I hear a soft knock at the door. Whoever is there doesn’t say anything as I creep across the bathroom floor, completely naked and dripping water on the stark white tiles beneath my feet. I wait until I hear their footsteps disappear down the hall before making my next move. My heart rate slows as I carefully twist the door handle, the knife still gripped in my hand, poised to kill anyone who comes for me.

The hall is empty.

My mind is still racing through all the reasons why someone might have knocked on the door when I see a small stack of clothes at my feet. Reaching out with my dry leg, I slide the pile into the bathroom before shutting the door again.

I dress quickly, surprised to see the clothes are for a woman my size. The idea that Callum had some woman’s clothes sitting around his house makes me unreasonably angry, and I adjust my grip on the knife before entering the hall again.

Something is different.

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