If I Break THE COMPLETE SERIES Bundle (17 page)

“How did that go… with Raven?”

“It went fine. I apologized and told her it was my fault.”

“How did she take it?”

“She said she was young once and for you not to worry about it. I told you she’s gotten pantry action before.” He snickers.

I swat him playfully. “Have you talked to Dexter yet?”

“No, he’s in Ireland. Why?”

“Well, you said coming back here could have messed up a business deal for him. I wanted to make sure everything was okay between you two.”

“Yeah, it’s something I was working on—on my own. I wasn’t going to tell Dex until it was secured. It’s not a big deal.”

“Well, what was it you were…” I trail off as his phone rings. I can see the caller ID from here. It’s him.

“Speak of the devil.” He laughs before picking it up, a wide smile on his face. “Dex! How’s the whiskey over there?”

I hear Dexter’s voice on the other end, but it’s not loud and joking as he usually is with Cal. After a few moments, Cal’s smile fades into something more serious.

“Cal, what’s wrong?” I ask, noticing his demeanor change. His face shows something I’ve never seen before.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he says, almost absentmindedly. His face is drawn into a look of concern, but his eyes are almost glazed over. He slowly sits up, forcing me to sit up as well. “When did they get that information? How bad is it? …Yeah, she’s here. We’re in Saginaw, at her aunt’s.”

He stands and walks to the other side of the room. I stand too, following him.

He puts the phone down to his side. “I need a minute, okay?” His voice is unsteady, and it makes my heart beat faster. I’ve never seen him this way before.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Instinct is screaming at me not to leave him alone.

“I need a minute.” His voice is cold and stern.

Against my better judgment, I nod and step back to let him walk out the front door. From the window, I watch him pace as he continues to talk on the phone. I’ve never seen him distraught before—angry, yes, but not this. I’d give anything to hear what is being said. I get a sinking feeling in my stomach—the same one I get when I see the familiar bag he takes on his overnight trips, except this is worse.

Raven’s car pulls up, and she passes Cal on her way into the house. He acknowledges her but continues pacing and talking. I meet her at the door.

“Honey, is everything okay with Cal? He seems upset,” she asks, closing the door. “Are you okay?” She touches my shoulder.

“I-I don’t know. He got a phone call from Dexter, and whatever he’s saying, it-it’s not good,” I explain, folding my arms around myself.

We both stand there, watching him through the window.

“Is it something going on back home?” she asks.

“I don’t know. It could be, but I think it’s something more than that. Did he look angry to you?”

“No, more like worried or alarmed,” she says, confirming my fears.

In three years, I’ve never seen him afraid or alarmed about anything. “Cal doesn’t get like that over work,” I say aloud, but more to myself.

Cal is good at what he does, and I would say he’s dedicated, but it doesn’t affect him like this. There has only been one other time I’ve seen him emotional about work, and well, that was right before things started to change between Cal and me. Still, this is different. He finally puts the phone down and runs his hands through his hair in frustration. I head toward the door, and Raven gently grasps my arm.

“Honey, maybe you should give him a minute,” she says.

I watch him kick the dust as if it’s someone’s head. “I can’t.” Maybe he does need a moment, but I can’t help it. I have to know what’s going on, and if he’s okay. I quickly run out the door and down the stairs. “Cal, what’s wrong? What happened?”

He glances at me briefly and turns his attention back to the ground.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” I plead.

I move closer to him and hold his face. For a second, he’s vulnerable, and the gray eyes that engulf me are the seldom-appearing faint green. He opens his mouth to speak, and I imagine he’s about to tell me what’s wrong. He’s finally going to let me in on whatever it is that’s bothering him. The thing that keeps slipping between him and me, pulling us apart, is about to be revealed. And then, just as quickly as the moment came, it passes—it’s gone. His expression turns cold, and he takes my hand off of his face and walks away from me, heading toward the house.

“Cal, talk to me!” I yell, following close behind him as he enters the house. “What did Dexter say? Is this about the deal?”

I follow him up the stairs and into my room. He grabs his wallet and keys.

“You’re leaving? What’s happened?”

He walks out of the room without saying a word, quickly heading back down the stairs.

“Where are you going? Can you say something?”

I grab his arm, and he snatches it away from me and walks out the front door. Following him out of the house, I swallow my anger. I know something’s wrong. He hits the alarm on his Porsche and walks to the driver’s side. I open the passenger door, get in, and buckle my seat belt.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m coming with you,” I tell him.

“No, you’re not,” he says shortly.

“Yes, I am. Something is wrong, and you won’t tell me what. I won’t let you leave here like this.” I fold my arms across my chest and look forward, avoiding his heated glare. I cross my feet over each other, feeling a little ridiculous. I don’t even have any shoes on, but if I leave this car, he’s pulling off without me.

“Lauren, get out of the car,” he says, his voice rising.

“No, I’m going with you,” I say adamantly.

“Lauren, get out of the fucking car! I don’t have time for this!” he yells.

“No!” I shout back at him.

In an instant, he’s out of the car, walking over to my side. He opens the door, and I stare him down.

“Don’t make me pull you out of the car,” he says quietly, and I ignore his intense glare.

In a second, he’s reaching over me, undoing my seat belt. I push him away, and he wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me out of the seat.

“I’m not getting out!”

I grab the steering wheel, holding on for dear life, but he somehow manages to loosen my grip. I hit the horn somehow in the process. So much for not attracting any attention.

“Stop it, Cal!” I scream at him as he carries me toward the house. I struggle to get out of his arms.

One of Raven’s neighbors has stepped out of their house and is watching us. Cal must have noticed also, and he puts me down. I start to head back to the car, and he steps in my way.

“Lauren, fuck! Go in the house. You’re not coming with me!”

“Why? Why can’t I go with you?” I scream, and he covers his face in frustration.

“You just can’t, okay! You’re wasting my time making me do this with you!” he shouts. “Just… just go in the house.” I burst into tears, and he shakes his head. “Please!” he says, his tone still loud but softer.

“What is going on!” Raven shouts frantically from the porch, obviously having heard the commotion we’ve caused. The last thing I wanted to do was embarrass her with all our drama here on the front lawn.

“Fine, just go,” I say, swallowing my remaining tears and gesturing toward the car.

“I’ll be back,” is his only reply as he heads back to the car.

I don’t notice Raven beside me for a few seconds. She says something, but I don’t really know what. My attention is on the black Porsche zooming out of her driveway, taking with it all of the progress we made over the past few days, and I realize our time here was just a bandage on an open wound that’s not even close to healing.

“H
ere we are,” he says as we step toward one of only two doors on the entire floor. He opens it, standing aside to allow me to enter first.

In the car, coming up to his apartment alone seemed like a good idea, but now I’m second-guessing myself. After leaving the museum, I said I’d never seen the Chicago skyline before from anywhere other than the club, and he said he had a great view of it.

I look up to see he’s still waiting for me to go in. I bite my lip. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I don’t know what he may think this implies. Maybe I should just say I’m feeling sick and go home. I look up again and see an amused grin on his face. I smile back at him, ignoring his humorous demeanor at my indecisiveness, and walk past him.

“Thank you,” I say quietly as I enter the apartment… or more like penthouse.

The butterflies in my stomach triple. The click of my heels on the chocolate-colored hardwood echoes throughout the house. I let out a small gasp as I take in the tall vaulted ceilings that reveal a second floor being introduced by a long, wraparound staircase.

The next thing that catches my attention is the open-concept kitchen with all stainless steel appliances, separated from the living area by an island, which I can bet is granite. There isn’t much furniture in the living room—just a white chaise and a matching sectional that stretches for miles in front of what has to be at least a seventy-inch television. A circular glass table separates the two. But what stops me in my tracks, making me wonder what took me so long to notice them, are the beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows that surround the entire left side of the apartment, revealing a breathtaking view of Chicago.

“This—this is amazing,” I quietly say. I feel Cal touch my shoulders, and my nerves make me jump out of my skin.

“Can I take your coat?” he asks, gesturing toward it.

God, Lauren!
Calm down
!
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” I joke, allowing him to remove my small jacket, if the thin material I’m wearing can even be classified as such.

“I’ll remember that,” he says whimsically, taking what would better be described as my shawl and disappearing into another part of the house.

I rub my arms, suddenly feeling vulnerable with just this thin piece of clingy material on me. I run my hands through my now-fallen curls as I walk over to the large island and take a seat on one of the white chair-like barstools. I slip off my stilettos, hoping my throbbing feet won’t develop any blisters. I look up as Cal reappears and heads over to the stereo.

“This is really beautiful,” I tell him, taking in the scenery once again.

“Thanks.”

Music begins to fill the house, a song that is haunting and hypnotizing at once.

“I love this song,” I tell him, taking in the slow, sensual rhythms.

“It’s one of my favorites,” he replies, removing a glass pitcher from the gigantic stainless steel refrigerator. He pours cold water into two glasses.

“It’s interesting.” Actually, the word that comes to mind, but I won’t use out loud, is sexy. I’ve heard songs about sex, vulgar ones, but I’ve never thought of a song not about sex as being almost erotic.

“I think it’s sexy, but maybe that’s just me,” he says casually. His smile is wicked, and as he hands me one of the glasses, I smile too, feeling my ears heat up.

“That’s the word.” I take a sip of water; it seems as if the temperature has gone up at least ten degrees. I look around the apartment to distract myself. “Are you here a lot?”

Most of the guys I know don’t do a lot of cleaning. Even when they have a girl over, if they can sweep all the trash off the table, they consider it a job well done. But this house is spotless. Not one thing seems out of place, and every surface shines, dust-free.

“What do you consider a lot?” he asks seriously.

I raise my eyebrow curiously. “Um, I don’t know. I guess I’m always home when I’m not at work or school.” I giggle. Did I just giggle? I also start to realize how unbelievably boring my life is.

“Have you ever been out of the country before?” he asks.

“The farthest I’ve been is Florida for my cousin’s wedding.” I laugh, watching him come from behind the island. I quickly slip my shoes back on.

“That should change,” he says, taking a seat on the barstool next to me.

My skin tingles at our close proximity now that we’re alone. I take another sip of water.

“I’ve never met a woman like you before, Lauren,” he says, his intense gaze on me once again. His eyebrow arches as if he’s trying to figure me out.