Page 13 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

RORY

A s I sort through the pile of paperwork on my desk, I glance up to see that the usual hum of the city seems like a distant buzz today. My brain is filled to the brim with thoughts about Danny, the Russian threat, the usual business issues, and everything that’s been going on between me and Clary.

My phone buzzes, startling me out of my thoughts. I glance down at the screen and see Callie Fitzgerald’s name. My mind leaps at the chance to ignore all the pressing issues and talk to a familiar voice, especially one that has nothing to do with everything else.

“Rory,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Hello,” Callie replies, her voice warm but professional. “I’m calling to touch base about my upcoming book premiere. Time Thief is coming out soon, and we need to go over security for the event. I’d like to meet to make sure everything’s in place.”

Her voice prompts me to sit up straighter. The wheels start turning in my head. “Of course, Callie. I’ll clear my schedule for tomorrow. What time works best for you?”

“How about one?” she offers.

“See you then,” I reply.

I’m already looking forward to a break from the chaos and focusing on something more fun.

I order Clary to clear my schedule and begin preparing a dossier for event security.

This book premiere isn’t just any old event.

It’s a big deal for us to showcase what we can do in public.

The last thing I need is something going wrong.

The next day, as the clock strikes one, a knock sounds at my door. I walk over to open it, and Callie stands there, a confident smile on her face.

“Rory,” she says, breezing past me and sitting in one of the leather armchairs facing my desk. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

“It’s my pleasure.” I smile and settle into my desk chair across from her. “I’ve got some preliminary plans, but I want to go over the details with you, just to make sure we have everything covered.”

Callie takes the file from me, glancing through the documents.

“I brought the guest list,” she says, handing me a file from her bag, “and some additional details. There’s going to be a huge media presence this time, and the whole event will be a gala-style affair.

Enchanted Dreams wants to make a splash for the third book. ”

I study the guest list, taking note of some high-profile names and VIPs who will be in attendance.

“Got it,” I say. “We’ve outlined how we’ll ensure clear communication between our team and the venue, but I’ll make sure the security doesn’t feel overwhelming.”

“I agree.” She nods, scanning the plans. Her eyes lift to meet mine, a slight hesitation in her gaze. “There’s one thing I wanted to mention, but I wanted to do it in person.”

I set down the file and steeple my fingers. “I’m all ears,” I say. “I need to know about anything that could be an issue.”

She breathes out slowly and shakes her head.

“It might be nothing,” she starts, “but the other day, when I was arriving home, I saw a package at my door marked, From a fan . My building is secure, Rory. No mail goes directly to our door. And I don’t get fan mail sent to my personal address anymore—it all goes to a PO Box. ”

I lean forward, concern tightening the lines around my eyes. “Did you open it?”

She shakes her head. “I handed it directly over to Finn, as instructed. He disposed of it immediately but wouldn’t tell me what was inside. I could tell it wasn’t just a letter.”

“So we’re looking at a potential stalker,” I murmur, leaning back in my chair. “Are you sure you don’t want to cancel the event? You’d be a huge target there.”

She frowns, her voice firm. “I can’t cancel,” she says. “I’m not going to cancel. I’ve worked hard to build a relationship with my fans. I won’t let fear take that away.”

Callie crosses her arms, determination in her gaze. I can’t help but admire her strength. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever known.

It’s undeniable that Callie’s confident attitude is magnetic. It’s a breath of fresh air to be around a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it. She’s driven, independent, with no hint of hesitation in her mannerisms.

Everything about her exudes control, from the way she speaks to the way she carries herself. She’s got a firm grip on life, and I can’t help but respect her for it.

Some part of me can’t help but contrast that with Clary.

Clary’s different, far more fragile in some ways.

Her self-doubt lingers in the air between us like a constant presence.

I know she has a lot of potential, but she never seems to see it in herself.

She second-guesses everything, hesitates before making decisions, always asks for more but is unwilling to go above and beyond.

It drives me crazy. I’d like to see her grow a backbone, to stand up for herself once and take charge.

Between the two of them, if I were ever to get into a relationship, Callie would be the obvious choice. Callie is a woman who can handle herself in any situation. She’s someone who could survive in my world, no question.

But something draws me to Clary. Something I can’t explain.

Even if she were to grow into a woman like Callie, I can see her still retaining that innocence, that vulnerability that shines through, the goodness that I’d never want to squash out.

The thought of her opening herself up just for me sends a thrill down my spine.

As I sit across from Callie—this confident, poised woman who seems like she’s got it all together—my mind can’t stop wandering back to Clary. I can’t help but wonder if my feelings for her run deeper than I’ve admitted or if it’s just my own damn need to fix something broken inside her.

With a deep breath, I pull myself back to the present, dismissing all thoughts of Clary from my mind. “Do you have any idea who might be stalking you?” I ask. “Anyone who might stand out in your mind?”

Callie shrugs. “I’m not sure. It could be anyone. As far as I know, there’s only been a few incidents. It’s not worth bothering about too much, I think.”

My jaw tightens. “Callie, I need you to take this more seriously. You could be putting people’s lives at risk now. It’s no longer just about you. There are other people in your circle who could be hurt too.”

“It’s part of the job,” Callie protests. “People get obsessed, and it comes with the territory. I’ve dealt with worse. I have faith that you can take care of this.”

My patience snaps. “Ms. Fitzgerald, with all due respect, this could be the beginning of something dangerous and you’re acting like it’s just a minor inconvenience.

Do you truly want to wait until this escalates to take it seriously?

” I’m half-standing when I hear the door open behind us and Finn steps inside from where he’s been standing guard.

His presence fills the room, quiet and solid, like an immovable force. The silver in his hair glints in the light, and the cool confidence he carries with him makes me stiffen slightly in my chair.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on her, Rory,” Finn says in his low, gravelly voice. He’s looking directly at me now, no hint of apology in his tone. “We can handle this. You don’t need to worry about Callie. You’ve got enough on your plate with the event. Focus on that.”

I bite back a retort. Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to put someone in their place and remind them who’s in charge, but Finn’s different. There’s something about him that commands respect, even from me.

I exhale slowly, forcing myself to relax and give a curt nod. “Fine. But don’t think I’m just going to forget about this.”

Callie’s expression softens just a fraction, and I can tell she’s relieved by Finn’s intervention.

My mind is still churning with thoughts of danger and what might happen if we don’t stay vigilant.

Something about this whole situation doesn’t sit right with me, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re only seeing the tip of the iceberg.

We spend a few more minutes going over the finer details of the event’s security—guest list protocols, emergency exit routes, surveillance points—before the meeting wraps up.

Callie gathers her things and stands, ready to head to another appointment.

"Thanks again, Rory," she says, offering me a quick, professional smile before she exits.

I don’t watch her leave, my mind already turning back to the mess that is my life. As the door clicks shut behind her, I turn to Clary. “Clear the rest of the schedule for today. I’m done for now.”

She gives me a questioning look, but I don’t explain. “Just clear it.”

I need space. To breathe. To think.

I don’t have a destination in mind as I wander aimlessly through the city. My feet take me wherever they please, my mind too full of clutter to focus. Thoughts of the event, of Callie’s dangerous situation, and—unfortunately—of Clary float around in a chaotic mess. Everything is a jumbled blur.

After some time, I find myself standing in front of a familiar store, a place I’ve been dozens of times before. It’s tucked just across the street, offering discreet pleasure items behind its unassuming windows.

Without thinking, I push open the door, the chime above it announcing my arrival.

My steps are purposeful as I walk inside, the soft lighting and inviting scents a welcome break from everything swirling around in my head.

The store is quiet, almost soothing in its own strange way.

There’s something about being in a space with no ties to my life, no connections to my usual chaos, that feels oddly comforting.

My thoughts drift back to the upcoming appointment with Clary. The first in our arrangement. I’ve been planning this for a while, and I could use a few things to set the right scene, to guide the tone of our time together. Grabbing a basket, I begin to browse.

Clary seems to enjoy pain, so I gather a few items to push her limits—a set of nipple clamps, electrical stimulation devices, a flogger. I place them in the basket without a second thought.

But I don’t want it all to be about pain. I’m curious about exploring other kinks with her, things that don’t involve pushing boundaries quite so hard. I pick up some silk ropes, and a blindfold too.

As I move past the counter, my eyes fall on a display of collars.

There are simple ones, ornate ones, even one with diamonds spelling out Master’s Pet .

I pause, my fingers brushing over the leather.

A thick navy blue one catches my eye. Nothing flashy, no diamonds or engravings, just a heavy, gold O-ring attached to the front.

It seems to call to me in a way I can’t quite explain. I ask the clerk to bring it out. When she does, I feel the weight of it in my hands. The inside is lined with a soft, furry material, designed to keep the wearer from chafing. It’s practical, functional—but also undeniably intimate.

I don’t hesitate long before deciding it’s perfect. Clary will look incredible in this.

Part of me feels a flicker of amusement.

Collaring is a significant gesture in the community, the underlying symbol of a deeper commitment.

It’s not something I’ve ever been interested in—at least, not outside the context of a romantic relationship.

But now, as I stand here, something shifts inside me.

Have I let myself get too close to Clary? Is it clouding my judgment, making me do things I’d usually avoid?

I don’t have answers. But as I walk out of the store with the collar in my bag, I can’t help but think that I’m teetering on the edge of something I’m not prepared for here.