Page 33 of Stolen Voices

nine

Eli

Thecoffeemakerbeepswhen it’s done brewing. Grabbing two mugs from the cabinet, I pour them full of the steaming-hot liquid I consider the elixir of life and pause.

Fuck.I don’t know how Callie takes her coffee.

Does she even like coffee?Double fuck.

I’ve known Callie for a little over two years, and aside from cupcakes, I have no idea what she likes. I should have spent time getting to know her instead of ignoring and taking cheap shots at her. I’m such a dick.

Bracing my hands on the counter, I take a few deep breaths.Pull it together. You can fix this.

Having hardly slept a wink, I’m a fucking wreck this morning. I couldn’t stop checking on Callie or replaying the way she’d collapsed to the floor in front of me. I’m exhausted physically and, to be honest, emotionally as well. I’d never been more scared in my life. She could have died if I hadn’t been there and reacted as quickly as I had to get her medicine.

Around three in the morning, I texted DJ Reigns, asking him to look at his own security footage and send it to me, so I can see if anything stands out. I can’t shake the thought that those cupcakes were no accident.

She said herself that she’s the only one who eats them.But who would know that and switch them?

The heavy weight of guilt settles in my stomach. I should know she’s allergic to nuts, how she likes her coffee, and how she loves vanilla cupcakes with purple frosting. I’m her agent. These are things I should know, right?

My brother, Cam, seems to think I’m the Wizard of fucking Oz and have all the answers, but I don’t. Especially not the answer key to Callie.

Fuck it.

I make Callie’s coffee like mine, with a dash of milk and a spoonful of sugar. Say what you want, but plain black coffee sucks.

Out the glass patio doors, the sun is rising over the city behind my condo. My eyes catch the fire pit in the morning yellow glow, reminding me of the last time my three brothers and I sat around it—hanging out, chatting, and grilling—before Jace and Mason moved to be with their now wives. We still get together, but it’s not the same, especially now that Cameron has found someone who makes him happy. Hell, he’s practically wifed-up. I saw how he behaved with Talia, his girlfriend, at our nieces’ birthday party a few weeks ago. Cam has never before looked at a woman with hearts in his eyes. It was plain to see that, for him, everything starts and ends with her.

My brothers are all moving on, getting married, and having kids while I’m stuck in the same place I was in five years ago. I thought I loved being single, making work my life. Then those fuckers went and broke the glass, and I can’t unsee what life would be like with someone in it.

Someone like Callie?

I berate myself for even thinking of her. She’s way too young, and just starting her career, to be interested in a guy like me. I’m eleven years older, and she’s my client. I refuse to be Harold. I won’t be another person in Hollywood preying on young women.

Shoving away the tornado of thoughts spinning around in my head, I make my way through my open-concept kitchen and living room, and down the hall towards Callie, her mug of coffee in my hand.

It doesn’t take long since my home is on the smaller side, but I like it that way. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms are enough for me. Plus I live in a secure, gated community, so it’s safe. My bedroom is the perfect size for a king-sized bed. It also has a huge walk-in closet, and the ensuite bathroom has an amazing rainfall shower. I turned one bedroom into my home office and the other into a guest bedroom, which is decorated for Rhys for when he stays over.

A small piece of me enjoyed watching Callie as she slept in my home, where I knew she’d be safe. It was hard for me not to climb into bed behind her as she curled herself into a cute little ball in the middle of the bed. I longed to wrap my arm around her soft body, so that I could breathe in her sweet floral scent as she slept, and make sure she didn’t relapse.

What the fuck is wrong with you? Shut that shit down,my brain screams at me.

Twisting the tension from my neck, I knock on the door before twisting the knob and stepping into … an empty fucking room.

The bed is haphazardly made, and both Callie’s purse and shoes are gone.

“You little fucking brat,” I mumble under my breath. Anger burns like liquid fire in my veins. I can’t believe she had the audacity to sneak out of my house in the middle of the night.

Returning to the kitchen, I pour the full mug of coffee down the drain and rush to my room to throw on a suit. I’m glad I showered last night after watching Callie drift off to sleep. In ten minutes, I’m dressed and ready to find my bratty little princess. If she thinks she can just slink off into the night like she didn’t almost die, she has another thing coming. If I wasn’t a better man, I’d throw her over my shoulder and spank her ass raw for leaving.

At the door, I reach for my wallet and slide it into my back pocket before grabbing my laptop bag and searching for my keys. The fob for my SUV is missing, and a sinking feeling hits me in the chest.

No, she didn’t.I hurry to the garage and… Yes. Yes, she fucking did.

The spot where my brand-new fucking car sits beside my Maserati is empty. Clenching my fists, and my jaw so I don’t scream, I take a deep breath.

Callie is in so much fucking trouble when I get my hands on her.