Page 59 of Stolen Voices

“Perfect fit.” I gently release her foot.

“It is,” Callie whispers almost too low for me to hear. “Thank you.”

My tongue feels dry like sandpaper and all I can do is nod, our earlier tension forgotten. What the fuck was that?

I walk around the car, pull out my phone to send Dez a text, and wait for his reply.

Eli:Callie was photographed at Catch-22. Need you to buy all the pictures. Price: no limit.

Dez:On it.

Satisfied that’s taken care of, I climb behind the steering wheel. The smell of Callie’s floral perfume slaps me in the face as I lean over her and grab the seatbelt. She lets in a sharp inhale as I pull the strap across her chest and buckle her in, tugging the belt to make sure it’s secure, that familiar shock snapping again.

“Eli.”

My hand stills on the gearshift as I look in her direction. The fire in her deep brown eyes has burned out, and she looks exhausted. I wish I could take back my cruel words from earlier. Not the spanking part, just the part about not wanting to fuck her.

Because I do. So damn badly.

I’ve been fighting my attraction to her for so long that one taste wouldn’t be nearly enough. I want more than just to fuck her. I want to own every single inch of Callie Wright. Her heart, her body, her soul. Everything.

I want to be the one to make her feel good, to take away her pain. Anything to make her smile again. To bring back the flames of life back into her eyes.

But I can’t let that happen. She’s my client, and I don’t mix business with pleasure. All I have is the ability to protect her career and obliterate whoever laid their hands on her.

“Yeah, Cal?”

“Will you take me somewhere?”

Anywhere,I think.

Luckily, I hold back my first thought and ask, “Where would you like to go?”

“Can I enter it?” She points to the GPS.

“Be my guest.” I watch as she enters the address. In fucking Malibu.

Interest piqued, I pull away from the club and head toward our destination. I don’t bother with the GPS since I know the area well. Cam owns a home fairly close to where she wants to go.

Forty minutes later, we arrive at an empty, dark parking lot with access to the beach. I cut the engine as Callie unlocks the door and gets out of the car. My eyes don’t leave her as she takes off her heels and pads across the pavement towards the beach.

Getting out of the car, I take off my shoes and throw them in the backseat, then grab my suit jacket before following her. The cement is cold and sandy under my feet, but I couldn’t give a fuck. Not with the way my chest twinges at the sight of her. The invisible rope wrapped around my heart tugs me harder.

Callie sits down in the sand and bends her knees, hugging them to her chest as she stares out at the glittering waves. Goosebumps cover her arms as I place my jacket over her shoulders before sitting down with my legs stretched out. Leaning back onto my hands, I sit quietly beside her, wishing like hell I knew what was going on in her head as I wait for her to speak.

“Before my dad died, I used to live here,” she says, breaking the silence.

I stay quiet, letting her lead the conversation. She rests her head on her knees and points to the right, towards a cluster of ocean-front homes sitting on the cliff overlooking the beach’s inlet. The homes she’s referring to are worth millions.

I hide my surprise, humming to let her know I’m listening.

“Now, I come out here to think. Revisit memories and remember him.”

Please, tell me this is leading somewhere, princess.

My eyes stay locked on Callie as she turns back to the water and talks to the ocean. “He died in a robbery when I was fourteen.”

Fuck. My heart breaks for her. I can’t imagine how painful that must have been for her. Losing her dad like that.