Page 27 of Stolen Voices

“Hold still.” I grip Callie’s thigh with one hand and jam the orange part of the pen into it while simultaneously pressing down on the injection button. I count the longest ten fucking seconds of my life and pray that the pen is enough to get Callie breathing again.

“Should I call the ambulance?” Reigns squats down next to me.

Callie shakes her head and squeaks, “No.”

“Give her a second,” I tell Reigns. “Will you have someone put her stuff back inside her bag?”

“Sure thing, Eli.”

I sound calm and in control when I’m freaking the fuck out inside. How the hell did this happen? One minute we were laughing and talking, and the next she almost died.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you,” I assure her again.

Callie’s grip on my arm loosens, and her breathing evens out as the injection does its job. Her face is still red and swollen but looks better than it did a few minutes ago.

Thank fuck she’s okay.

Worry still clings to me around the edges. I can’t take any chances with her. She’s going to the damn hospital whether she likes it or not.

Hudson would kill me if something happened to her. As would the part of me I keep locked away from the world.

“Here you go, Mr. Miller.” The intern that brought me Callie’s purse holds it out for me.

“Thank you.” I place the strap over my shoulder and turn to Callie. “You’re not going to like what I have to say, but tough shit. I’m going to pick you up, take you to the car, and you’re going to the hospital.”

“But—”

“Nope. I’m in charge, and what I say goes. I agree, an ambulance is a mistake, but you need to be checked out.”

“Okay,” she chokes out, letting go of me.

I slide one arm under her knees and place the other behind her back, lifting her up bridal style. The ache in my chest grows as she wraps her arms around my neck and rests her head on my shoulder, eyes closed and breathing shallow.

Turning around, I face the group of music producers staring at me with wide, unsure eyes. “If anyone breathes a word of this to the press, you will be on the receiving end of my wrath. Do you understand me?”

Everyone nods, muttering in agreement.

With a weak Callie in my arms, I walk out of the conference room. Reigns catches up to us before I reach the front door.

“Eli, wait. Don’t go out the front.”

I turn around to face him, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Paparazzi sometimes camp out front.”

“Fuck.”

How could I forget that?This is why Callie didn’t want the ambulance called. She needs to be careful. People everywhere would speculate.

She stirs in my arms, and an idea forms.

“Reigns, no one can know about this,” I tell him.

“I know.”

“Not her manager, not her driver—no one.”

“You have my word. Now, what do you want me to do?”