Page 18 of Surprise Me Tonight (Claimed on Sight #1)

Stella

C allum is at the other end of the hall, laughing with Joan as he helps her balance three gin and tonics in plastic cups. He looks maddeningly good — casual, calm, solid. Like he belongs here, like he’s not the reason half the family has been buzzing all night.

The hall is full to bursting. Trays of sausage rolls, triangles of cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks, a pile of children ignoring the music in favour of terrorising a balloon in the corner.

Fairy lights blink unevenly above us, and the air is a heady mix of prosecco and carpet cleaner.

The sound system’s working overtime to mangle Dancing Queen into a staticky mess.

Aunt Joan is thriving.

Callum, to his credit, is holding his own.

He’s in black jeans and a fitted T-shirt, tattoos unapologetically on show, somehow managing to look like he both belongs here and clearly doesn’t.

Which, judging by the sideways glances and careful curiosity of some of the guests, is exactly how he’s being received .

People are polite, of course. But this is a village where nothing happens, even less than at Little Hadlow. People notice everything, and they’re never afraid of a bit of gossip if it’s presented with a Scotch egg.

Still, Callum stays close. He smiles when he should, keeps his hand near mine in case I need it.

He gives me the confidence to stand on my own rather than trying to control me.

The realisation makes my heart race. I force the feelings that have been building for weeks back down, terrified that blurting out love too soon might scare him away.

Callum returns with a another glass of Prosecco for me when the hall doors open.

I turn to see who’s arrived — and freeze.

“Vicky?” I blink. “What—?”

She’s already weaving through the crowd, long coat flapping, hair in a loose plait. “Surprise!”

I hug her tight, confusion and affection mixing in a dizzying rush. “I thought you had a deadline.”

“I finished early. And… Dad offered me a lift.”

My chest tightens.

Sure enough, Jeremy follows behind her, nodding like he’s just walked into a boardroom he owns. His smile is affable. Empty. Like he’s never once made my stomach clench in dread.

Callum stiffens next to me, one arm curling instinctively around my waist.

Joan spots Vicky in an instant. “Ah! Look what the cat’s dragged in. Vicky, sweetheart, meet your mum’s very handsome new boyfriend. This is Callum Wright.”

Vicky’s smile flickers, startled. “Wait… boyfriend ?”

She looks between us. First at me, then at Callum, then back again. And slowly, a grin starts to spread.

“Oh,” she says, under her breath. “Okay. Right.”

She steps forward, extending a hand. “Lovely to meet you.”

“You too,” Callum says, voice warm, relaxed.

Vicky gives me a look. The sort that says we’ll talk later, probably over wine, and I’ll want details.

I don’t get a chance to say anything, because Jeremy, who has been circling just close enough, chooses that exact moment to pounce.

“Wait,” he says, tone far too loud for the space he is in. “Wright?”

I don’t move.

“Wright Enterprises?” he continues. “That’s where you work now, isn’t it?”

Callum’s expression doesn’t change, but I feel the subtle shift in his body. Controlled tension.

I take a slow breath, then meet Jeremy’s eyes across the crowd.“How do you know where I work?”

He shrugs, far too pleased with himself. “I asked around.”

Beside me, Callum’s hand curls gently at my waist. Just a touch. Just a warning.

And that’s when Jeremy drops it.

“Well, at least now I see what the deal is,” he says, louder now, enough to draw a few glances. “Shagging the boss. Pathetic, Stella. And a younger boss, at that. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

The words hit like a dropped plate. Not silence, but the kind of quiet that leans in. I feel the weight of half the room prickling across my back .

I can’t speak. Not because I’m afraid, but because I’m stunned. At his gall. At the fact he still thinks he can humiliate me like this and walk away smirking.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Then Callum steps forward.

He doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t shove. Doesn’t posture. He just moves, smoothly, slowly, placing himself between me and Jeremy, taller by a good two inches, broad-shouldered and black-clad, his eyes hard as steel and just as sharp.

Jeremy’s smirk falters for half a breath, long enough for everyone to see it.

“You don’t get to talk to her like that.” Callum’s voice is low. Controlled. Terrifyingly calm.

Jeremy scoffs, trying to reclaim his swagger. “Oh, come on—”

Callum cuts him off. “You want to sneer because she is with me? Then listen closely. Stella is the most competent, intelligent, and fiercely capable person I’ve met in years. She doesn’t just support me, she challenges me, she steadies me. She has more grit and grace than you could handle.”

Jeremy’s smirk wavers.

“And as for being with a younger man?” Callum steps closer, eyes locked.

“It’s got nothing to do with age. It’s because she’s the kindest, strongest, most grounded woman I’ve ever met.

She makes people better just by being near them.

She makes me better. If you couldn’t see that when she was with you, that’s not on her. That’s on you.”

“And if you think any man wouldn’t fall for her,” he finishes, voice dropping half an octave, “then you’ve been blind for a very long time. ”

Jeremy shifts, but Callum isn’t done. His voice softens, darker now, meant for everyone to hear but only for me to feel.

“For the record, she is the most breathtaking, sensual woman I have ever touched. The kind of woman who ruins you for anyone else.”

Silence. Proper silence this time. The sort that spreads, heavy and undeniable.

Joan drops her drink. “Oh, bloody hell,” she breathes, fumbling for her paper napkin to fan herself. “That man could melt stone.”

Someone chokes on their mini sausage roll. Someone else says, “Jesus Mary and Joseph,” under their breath.

Heat floods every inch of me, from the top of my scalp to the soles of my feet. I might die.

But I don’t.

I find my breath. And then I find my voice.

I step forward, just enough that Jeremy’s eyes snap back to me.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His brow twitches. “I brought Vicky—”

“Yes, and that gives you the right to be part of her life. Not mine. Not this.” I gesture around us — the hall, the family, the people who are mine in every real, meaningful way. “You are not part of this family. You gave that up the moment you started treating me like something disposable.”

His jaw shifts. “Oh, come off it—”

“No,” I say, sharp now, but still steady. “You weren’t invited. You weren’t wanted. And after the way you spoke to me tonight, you’ve more than proved you don’t deserve to be here. So you can walk out, or you can wait until someone shows you the door.”

Jeremy freezes — torn between the impulse to throw one more insult and the realisation that no one, absolutely no one , is going to defend him.

Callum’s at my side now, not stepping in, just watching. His smirk is quiet, proud, satisfied. Like I’ve just handed him a priceless piece of art and told him it’s his.

Joan calls out, “Go on then, piss off.”

Jeremy exhales, a sharp, bitter sound. But he doesn’t say another word.

He turns, jaw tight, and walks out — alone.

The doors clatter shut behind him.

For a second, no one speaks.

Then someone claps.

Then someone else.

And then the room lets out a breath — like they’d all been holding it without meaning to — and the band awkwardly starts back up with Sweet Caroline like we haven’t all just witnessed a moral victory and a sexual awakening in the space of fifteen minutes.

I turn to Callum. His gaze meets mine, steady, lit with heat and something dangerously close to awe.

He leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

I manage a smile, even as the adrenaline keeps humming in my blood. “Don’t give me a reason, then.”

Callum slides his fingers between mine, links them tight. “Not planning to.”

Before I can say anything, Joan claps her hands, drawing the attention back like she’s running the bloody Oscars .

“Well,” she announces, cheeks flushed with gin and moral victory, “that was better than anything they’ve ever put on at the village panto. Ten out of ten. Would attend again.”

A wave of laughter breaks across the nearest tables.

I drop my face into my free hand. “Joan, please.”

She grins wickedly. “You’ve still got it, Love. Never doubted it.”

I shake my head, smiling despite myself and then I feel Vicky at my side, slipping her hand into the crook of my elbow.

“Mum?” she says softly.

I look at her, heart suddenly knocking again. “Yeah?”

She hesitates, then leans in close. “That was… a lot. I mean, Jeez.”

“Yeah.”

“But—” she swallows, then nudges her head slightly toward Callum, then back at me, eyes shining. “You were brilliant. Like, savage. In the best way. I don’t think I’ve ever been that proud.”

The knot in my chest unravels.

“You okay?” I ask her.

She nods. “Yeah. I mean… I’ll probably need years of therapy, but this definitely bumped me up the queue.”

We both laugh; hers quiet, mine shaking a little at the edges. And when she wraps her arms around me this time, it’s the kind that doesn’t let go right away.

Behind us, Joan mutters, “Right, well, someone better put ABBA back on. This is a birthday, not a bloody funeral for fragile male egos.”

I can’t stop grinning. With Callum’s hand in mine, it feels like the first proper victory in years.