Page 45 of Wicked Duty
Aware that there are cameras everywhere, I force myself to remain calm. Despite the mammoth strength of the urge, I can’t kick him in the nuts.
The only course open to me is grace.
“It’s obvious you have a really low opinion of me.” I lift my chin high and meet his needling, green-eyed gaze. “But you’re wrong. You don’t know me or anything about what I’ve been through. And I just don’t care enough about you to prove it.”
“Is that right?” He glowers, sarcastic poison dripping from his deep voice.
“Yes.” Only my training prevents my lips from pulling into a snarl as I peer past him to track the retreating model.“So why don’t you do us both a favor and shove your colorful commentary right up your ass with the rest of your brilliant ideas?”
I pivot to flounce off just as someone barrels past me and steps on the hem of my long white evening gown. I lose my balance, toppling until Callum’s thick arm secures me around the waist and spins me out of the path of four more people who barrel by.
Our chests press together, his body solid against mine. Sturdy.
Safe.
My heart performs cartwheels between my ribs. My neck heats.
And I’m not imagining the way Callum’s eyes drop to my mouth, the way his muscular arm tightens around me.
His cologne—cedar and vanilla—wisps past my face. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.
I could kiss him. It would only take a small shift forward…
I push my hands against his chiseled chest, and he releases me.
“You were saying?” His voice roughens with some unnamed emotion.
Ignoring the heat radiating through me from our unexpected embrace, I swallow down the unfortunate attraction and step around him. “Thanks for catching me, but I have to go now.”
Chapter 17
Callum
I follow a few paces behind Lucy, my hand still warm from holding her against my chest. As I shuffle between guests in black-tie apparel, I work to regain my composure.
The worst of my anger faded as soon as the hurt flashed across Lucy’s face. Again. So much for our truce.
The baffling thing is that I don’t understand why I was so mad in the first place.
All these years, I’ve prided myself on my ability to maintain my cool, even in emergency situations. In addition to my skill set from the military, my prudence is one of the main reasons Darren asked me to join his new business.
It’s becoming increasingly clear that despite all my qualifications, Lucy Marlow possesses the unique ability to rattle me up and crawl under my skin.
I hate feeling out of control.
She’s become a variable in my behavior. I can’t trust how I’ll act around her.
I’ll be happy once this assignment ends, when I can finally return to my usual routine. Be detached, cool, and levelheaded. Finish jobs with no strings attached. With no one to drive menuts with their bullshit attitude and refusal to follow a simple order without a fight.
The lifeless faces of the people I didn’t save race through my memory…and then my brain adds Lucy’s beautiful face to the collection.
Every muscle in my body seizes before I manage to banish the vile visual.
I refocus on Lucy’s purple-streaked head as she beelines straight for a slender blond model. The younger, bleary-eyed girl is obviously in the throes of some kind of emotional breakdown.
Lucy makes contact, sandwiching one of the younger girl’s hands between her own. I don’t get close enough to eavesdrop, but from this distance, the exchange appears heartfelt. Whatever conversation they’re sharing lifts the younger girl’s spirits. Soon, she’s smiling through the tears currently creating tracks down her well-made-up eyes.
Lucy grabs a napkin off a table, dips the corner in a glass of water, and wipes the girl’s cheeks. Once she’s happy with the result, she gives the girl a quick hug before hooking their elbows together and tugging her along, veering toward a gaggle of waiting photographers. The two laugh, smiling and posing for pictures together.
