Page 50 of Any Means Necessary

“Welcome, so glad you could come.” Jack’s silver hair is quaffed with gel until it’s visibly stiff. The poised woman, Margot, stands next to him with a sharp brown bob and a smile that doesn’t reach her dull brown eyes.

“I never miss one of the Governor’s events when I’m in town,” Callum comments, his voice taking on a light tone that sounds foreign coming from his mouth. I glance up at him, surprised by the amiable expression on his face. I’ve never seen him look so friendly before, it’s intriguing.

“Peter Wilcox and I were just discussing those pony bets from last quarter. He was so sure that long shot was going to pay off,” Jack says, nodding to a tall, thin man standing not too far away. “I believe we both owe you quite a bit of money.”

“Oh, I remember,” Callum says easily with a laugh. Who is this carefree man beside me? “I always remember my wins, that’s the real reason I’m here. I came to collect before Wilcox tries to leave the country again.” Jack chuckles deeply at Callum’s joke, nodding largely.

“I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t trust us with our losses either.” Jack gestures towards the human stringbean named Peter Wilcox. “It’s time we paid the piper.”

“I’ll find you later,” Callum murmurs into my ear, meeting my eyes. I look up at him and nod casually. Turning to address the older gentleman he says “Lead the way.”

I watch the two men walk away, leaving me with Margot. The Governor’s Aide is rail thin, with a haughty air about her that oozes judgment and condescension. Her black chiffon dress definitely cost three figures, easy. “I love your dress. Is it Ralph Lauren?”

“Thank you, it’s Badgley Mischka.” Something about the way Margot accepts my compliment doesn’t feel anywhere as gracious as it should. Her eyes move over me in a way that makes my stomach knot. “Your dress is very bold of you. Such a brave choice, I applaud your confidence.”

The underhanded insult is more aggressive than passive, hidden only under a fake smile. My kind smile turns knowing, making a show of smoothing my hands down my waist and over my hips.

“Wow, that means a lot coming from someone like you.” I let my gaze move pointedly over her. “If you’ll excuse me.” With that, I’m walking past her, grabbing a flute of champagne off a tray as it passes.

I consider finding a quiet corner to hide from any more snotty comments about my body in this dress. But then a woman named Christine asks me where I get my nails done and I decide to mingle for a while instead. Every once in a while, I catch sight of Callum making his way around the room.

Even standing in a crowd of other important men dressed in expensive custom suits, Callum stands out. His size draws focus, standing a head above everyone around him. But it’s his dominating presence that makes it nearly impossible to look away.

Callum commands respect, knowing exactly how to engage with each person in order to get it. Watching him charm his way through a room is fascinating, a box jellyfish easily navigating deep sea waters. Deceptively elegant and captivating to distract from the potent deadliness of his sting.

When Callum smiles, his whole face transforms. The storm clouds dissipate, leaving nothing but clear skies over a sea of charm. The edges of his angular, bearded face soften, any sign of danger melting into charisma. But when I really look at him, I can tell there’s something missing—warmth, humor, enjoyment. It’s a fake smile, a mask perfected with time to appeal to this intended audience. A tool to disarm and engage. And it’s fucking working. The people around him are falling for it hook, line, and sinker.

Meeting my eyes over Christine’s head, I offer him a very fake smile of my own. One equally as bright and full of sugary-sweet false promises. His eyes narrow slightly, and I know he can read exactly what I’m saying.

I see you, Callum. They don’t, but I do.

Our eye contact is severed when a figure steps in front of me, filling my view. My eyes lift to the blonde hair, blue eyed man smiling at me. The royal blue of his suit is a pop of color amongst the sea of black and gray covering the other men in attendance. His grin is friendly, if not a little cocky, flashing straight white teeth that belong in a toothpaste commercial. There’s something about him, a cheesiness to his charm, that feels almost cartoon-ish.

“I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Daniel Taylor,” he says, his eyes flickering to my generous cleavage none too discreetly. “I couldn’t go the entire night without learning your name.” He’s not exactly my usual type, but Daniel’s a good-looking man. So I give him a bright smile.

“We wouldn’t have met, I’m new to New York.” Taking a sip of my champagne, I peer up at him through my lashes. “I’m Lexie.”

“Well, New York is lucky to have you, Lexie.” He knows how to play the game, and he’s decent at it. “Where are you from?”

“Astoria, Oregon. It’s a coastal town.”

“From one coast to the other, that’s a big change. What brings you all the way across the country to our fair city?”

“I’m a travel nurse, I came for a contract,” I answer. “Although, from my experience, concrete jungle is a more accurate description than our fair city.” Daniel’s blinding smile widens and his head tilts back in a hearty laugh. If he was a cartoon, he’d definitely be cast as the charming prince who galiantly comes charging in on his white horse to save the day whether you want his rescue or not.

“I can’t disagree with that description,” Daniel laughs. “Who do you know in the Governor’s office? Did you come alone?” His tone is asking if I plan on leaving alone. His eyes flicker over my shoulder, a look of recognition flashing across his face. I can feel Callum’s presence behind me even before he speaks.

“Taylor, I see you’ve met Lexie.”

“Russo,” Daniel’s eyes move between me and the giant now pressing to my back. The heat of his body mixes with mine from our proximity. “I suppose I can’t be surprised that this is your date.”

I’m tempted to argue that I’m not Callum’s date, but I guess it’s technically true. I did come as his plus one. And with the competitive air between the two men, a statement like that seems like striking a match while soaked in gasoline.

Not a good idea.

“How do you two know each other?” I ask, changing the subject. Or at least trying to. My question fails to ease the tension. Instead it supplies Callum with more ammo.

“Taylor is legal counsel for the Governor.” There’s something taunting in Callum’s voice when he explains. “He deals with the less complicated matters.”

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