Page 17 of Wicked Duty
“I’m being serious.” Maya’s using herI mean businessvoice. “This is no time for games. Veronika told me one of the other women named as a witness in the case went missing. And now someone’s sending you threats?”
Eyes drifting shut, I groan in aggravation. “There’s nothing to worry about, May. I’m?—”
“Don’t you dare lie to me.” The edge in her tone is simultaneously mothering and sisterly. “It sounds like things back in New York are completely out of control.”
I curl the fingers of my free hand into a fist. “Is that what he told you? Don’t believe everything you hear. He’s?—”
“Lucy, I’m going to give you two options here. Allow Callum to serve in his full capacity as your bodyguard?—”
“See, I don’t know if that’s going to work out. What’s the other option?”
“Me coming home, and both of us getting out of town until things with the trial blow over.”
I take a few deep breaths, but my frustration doesn’t dissipate.
“Definefull capacity.” When Maya’s deep sigh transmits through the phone, I rush on. “You know what? Never mind. I already know I won’t like the answer.”
“You can start by letting him inside.”
A beat passes as I weigh my options. I’d never forgive myself if Maya left Italy just to come babysit my lame ass.
Now it’s my turn to sigh. I open the door and begrudgingly motion my bodyguard inside. Without uttering a single word, straight-faced Callum draws his gun and begins to perform a sweep.
Thankfully, he left the box of rat in the hall.
“Okay. He’s in.”
“Benice.” Maya chats for a while longer before extracting a promise from me to let Callum do his job. “I’ll call you later. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Our call ends, and I find myself alone with Callum. He must be satisfied that nothing’s amiss because he holsters the weapon.
“Well,” I gesture around the apartment. “I guess that’s it then. I’ll see you tomorrow. Unless you need to do another perimeter sweep.”
Callum tilts his head. “Perimeter sweep?”
Isn’t that what he was doing? Whatever. I’m just going to ignore him.
Luckily, as a model, I’m great at ignoring things. I ignore the pain in my feet even when it feels like I’ve walked for miles in stilettos. I ignore the frigid cold temperatures around me while modeling swimsuits for spring catalogues. I ignore my hunger pangs in the days that lead up to that shoot. I even managed to ignore the men who circled me like sharks on the auction block.
I can absolutely ignore one man while he inspects my cramped apartment with his critical eye. Or whatever the heck he’s doing.
Though, admittedly, I’m far too aware of his presence.
Spending even a short amount of time enclosed in the same space with him causes my stomach to swoop like I’m on a roller coaster.
Only nerves, I tell myself. I’m just triggered by close proximity to unfamiliar, dangerous men. I want him out.Fast.
And I’m prepared to do whatever I need to do to ensure his stay is as unwelcoming as possible.
Turning away from the living statue at the door, I connect my phone to my stereo and pick the boppiest pop station I can find, blasting the volume as high as it will go.
Callum Kavanagh seems like more of a total silence kind of guy. That or rock music like U2. The Cranberries, maybe.
Not Taylor Swift or Shawn Mendes or Gaga.
I grab my Swiffer mop from the alcove between the ancient refrigerator and wall and start gliding through my apartment. Aggressive cleaning usually sends Maya running, so why not try the tactic on Callum?
