Page 81 of Close Contact
She shook her head. “You don’t get it yet. Youmeansomething. What you did today—that’s rewriting the rules. Keep doing it. Don’t let them dilute you. You’re not just fast. You’re fearless. There’s a difference.”
My throat tightened. I swallowed hard, trying to blink the sting from my eyes. And then she winked and disappeared, just like that. The air felt too thick to breathe.
I turned, andCallumwas already there, one step behind me, his eyes soft and searching.
“You alright?” he asked.
I nodded. “That… just happened.”
He took the champagne glass from my hand, setting it aside before curling his fingers gently around mine. “Let me know if you want to go.”
I looked out at the crowd. The lights. The chaos. And then back at him. The only steady thing in the room.
“No,” I said, voice soft. “I want torememberthis. I want to feel it. All of it.”
He kissed the back of my hand. “Then I’m staying right here.”
I looked out at the lights, the champagne in the air, the crowd that had just chanted my name. But it wasn’t any of that that anchored me.
It was him, and how special he made me feel—as if I was the only woman in his world.
I wanted to be the last.
Aurélie laughed.She danced. She toasted her name.
And still, something was wrong. I’d been around her long enough now to recognize the signs.
The tension in her shoulders when no one was looking. The way her smile tightened at the corners like she had to hold it in place. How she leaned into me like she needed something warm before pulling away like she didn’t deserve it.
It wasn’t the champagne, or the lights, or the crowd, or even the pressure of the win. It was something deeper—that much was obvious after the comments she’d made earlier.
And I wasn’t letting it simmer for another second.
“Come with me,” I said quietly, leaning in to brush my lips near her temple.
She blinked. “What?”
“I just need you for a second.” I didn’t wait, taking her hand and leading her through the crowd, my fingers tight around hers, worried that if I let go, she’d vanish into the noise.
We ducked through the velvet curtain behind the DJ booth, down a dark hallway that muffled the music. It was quiet here. Still pulsing faintly through the walls, but she couldn’t hide in the strobe anymore.
She crossed her arms as I turned to face her. “Callum… what are we doing?”
“You tell me.” I mirrored her pose and waited.
“You’re being weird.”
“So are you.” And there it was. A flicker of something—hurt, guilt, maybe both—in her eyes.
So I stepped closer and dropped my voice. “Something’s bothering you. And I’m not letting this night go on until you tell me what it is.”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. Too quickly. Her voice cracked like glass under pressure.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Seriously, I just needed a second. It’s been a long day?—”
“No,” I said. “You don’t get to lie to me. Not now. I can see it in your eyes.”
