Page 25 of Wicked Duty
Lucy
After two full hours of primping and preening, I emerge from my bedroom around ten in the morning as Runway Revolution material with my hair styled, makeup on, and a formfitting silver dress. Checking off my mental list, I rifle through my tote just to be sure I have everything.
Wallet, ID, cell phone, the printed audition invitation to get into the building downtown. All the cosmetics I need for touch-ups. A pair of roll-up flats in case my feet die in these six-inch heels before the day’s end.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this excited. This ready for what the future holds. My body practically buzzes as I strut toward the front door, keen to leave everything about the past week behind me. Nothing is going to kill my vibe.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Callum shifts from a pot of eggs boiling on the stove. Does the man do anything but eat my food?
I serve him an arctic glare. “Mind your own business.”
“You are my business.” He exits the kitchen and stalks straight toward me like some sort of predator. A shark, or maybe a lion. He definitely gives off major king-of-the-jungle energy.
My face burns under the weight of his attention, especially after our kitchen encounter earlier this morning. “I don’t owe you an explanation of my every move. And I sure as hell don’t need your permission.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Callum blocks my path to the front door. His muscular arms flex as they cross over his chest. “Now, tell me. Or prepare to stay inside all day.”
I tear my attention away from his strong biceps and sinewy forearms to sidestep, but he sidesteps with me.
Bossy, overgrown Neanderthal.
“I can’t do this right now, Kavanagh.”
“Then I suggest you start talking, Marlow.”
I barely stop myself from stomping my foot. He’s like a giant, immovable blockade, and I don’t have time to figure out a way to maneuver past him. With my blood pressure rising and no other choice if I hope to get to the Runway Revolution audition on time, I spit out the truth. “I’ve been invited to an in-person audition for the modeling show that could launch my career. Only twenty models out of, like, thousands of applicants get this far. It’s a big deal that they chose me. That audition is today. Downtown, so I’ve?—”
“Veto.”
Veto?He issues the one-word command like he’s a five-star general and I’m a new recruit. As if he has the right to make executive decisions that impact my entire future. “Excuseme? Just who the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m the man who’s getting paid to keep you safe. You’re not going.” When I continue to gape at him like he sprouted a second head, he talks slower, as if that will somehow render his words more palatable. “It’s short notice. There’s no way I’d be able to do a thorough sweep for security concerns at an event like that, not to mention the public exposure it’ll create for you at a time when you’re supposed to be lying low.”
My mouth wobbles like a fish. The nerve of this guy. Who the hell does he think he is? “Oh, I’m going. I don’t care what you say.”
“No, you’re not.”
I grit my teeth. “Did I or did I not just tell you that this is a highly prestigious once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? I’m not missing it. You cannot force me to stay here.” Stress builds in my system, and my hands begin to tremble. My throat constricts with emotion. “You don’t understand,” I whisper. “I need this.”
His features soften as he studies my expression, reminding me of the concern that sparked in his eyes after I threw myself at him and then panicked. “Darren and Veronika mentioned the possibility of a reality show in passing, but I never heard about it again. If you’d kept us apprised, maybe I could’ve worked something out?—”
“Like what? Extracting the pole from your ass?” I huff out a shaky exhale, snatching my phone from my clutch to check the time. “Forget it. There’s no sense in arguing about this. I’m going. Nothing you do and nothing you say will stop me.”
“I wouldn’t bet money on that one, sweetheart.”
“Some employee you are. Aren’t I your client? Don’t you work for me?”
“Technically, no. I work for Darren.” He gives me an infuriating little smirk. “And trust me, it’s better this way. You couldn’t afford my services otherwise.”
I swear, I’m this close to throat-punching him. “Why don’t I just change my name to Charity Case then?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “It would throw Roguilin and his boys for a loop.”
My eyes blaze into his. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”
After subjecting me to an epic stare-down, Callum lowers his arms. “I’ll allow you to go to the audition if you hand over your phone.”
“‘Allow’me to go? I’m not three years old.”
