Page 44 of Hero's Heart

“Let’s do a quick sweep,” he said, his deep voice quiet but authoritative.

Sloane nodded, watching as he methodically checked each corner of the small space. His movements were precise, practiced. She could see why he was so good at his job.

“We’re secure,” Callum announced after a few minutes. He turned his attention to the door, engaging multiple locks with a series of metallic clicks. “We should be safe here.”

“It’s…cozy,” Sloane offered, trying to keep her voice light despite the tension coiling in her stomach. She perched on the edge of the bed, painfully aware of its presence.

Callum’s lips quirked in a half smile. “That’s one word for it. Lincoln wasn’t kidding when he said it was small.”

The tiny kitchen took up one corner of the studio apartment—stove, fridge, sink, and a small two-top table. A door in another corner presumably led to the bathroom. Under the window was a bookshelf and a single sitting chair. The opposite end of the room held the bed and a wardrobe that served as a closet.

That was it.

Sloane’s gaze flickered between Callum and the bed. Would he want them to share it again tonight? God, she hoped so. The thought sent a shiver of anticipation through her, which she quickly tried to suppress.

“You okay?” Callum asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied her.

“Fine,” Sloane said quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Just…processing everything, I guess.”

Callum nodded, his expression softening. “I know it’s a lot. But we’re safe here, Sloane. It’s okay to relax.”

He thought she was worried, which was so much more reasonable than her acting all goosey because she was hoping to wake up in his arms again.

As he spoke, Callum moved closer, sitting beside her on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and she was acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body. She wanted to lean into him, to feel his arms around her right now, but she held herself still.

“Thank you,” she murmured, meeting his eyes. “For everything.”

For a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken tension. Her heart raced, wondering if he might kiss her again. But instead, he stood back up, clearing his throat.

“We should probably get settled—food and rest,” he said, his voice a little gruff. “It’s been a long day.”

She nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. Callum busied himself with checking the windows one more time.

He let out a sigh. “No TV, no internet. I’m afraid you’re going to be bored.”

She shook her head, pointing at the bookshelf under the window. “At least there are some books.”

He followed her gaze and grimaced. “I wouldn’t get too excited. They look like they’re mostly textbooks.”

But she was already crossing the room, trailing her fingers over the spines. Her breath caught as she pulled out a thick volume. “Art history,” she breathed, a smile lighting up her face.

“You like art?” Callum asked, surprise evident in his voice.

She nodded, clutching the book to her chest. “My mother and I used to spend hours looking through art books together. I’m not an artist myself, but I love digging into and understanding different mediums and perspectives and theories. At one time, I thought I might major in art history in college.”

His eyes softened. “Nothing wrong with studying what you love.”

“Visiting the Louvre was what I was most excited about when I found out Marissa and I would be going to Paris.” Her smile faltered, and she set the book down. “As you know, that didn’t exactly work out.”

“Maybe another time.”

The chances of William paying for her to go to Paris again were slim to none. Same with her having the money for it herself. “Yeah, maybe.”

Callum leaned against the wall, his brow furrowed. “So, you didn’t study art history in college. What did you major in instead?”

Sloane bit her lip, avoiding his gaze. “Actually, I…I didn’t go to college. It just didn’t work out.”

She left out the painful truth—she could barely survive on what the Gettys paid her. Affording classes at any of the local universities was out of the question. Not that they would’ve allowed it even if she could afford it.

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