Chapter 7

ROXETTE

The door slammed harder than I meant it to. 

I didn’t turn back.

Not like anyone inside cared.

Dave’s voice still rang in my ears, tangled with my mother’s annoyed sighs.  “Don’t come back if you’re going to act like that!” she’d shouted, the same line she always used.

The evening air was cooler than I expected, brushing my skin as I walked with no real direction, my bag hanging heavy on my shoulder.

A few blocks later, I dropped onto the metal bench of a waiting shed. The cold seeped through my clothes, but I barely noticed. Cars streamed past, headlights flickering like distant stars I could never reach.

For a while, I just watched the world keep moving.

Then I tightened my grip on my phone. There was only one place that had ever felt like an escape.

I stared at Diana’s name on my screen, hesitating.

A quiet voice told me not to, especially after last time.

I exhaled slowly. “Why did it have to be her father?” I slapped my forehead. “Stupid!”

Before I could overthink it, I typed: [Can I come over? Only if you’re there and your dad isn’t home.]

The message lingered for a few seconds.

Then my phone buzzed.

[Of course. Dad’s not here.]

Relief hit me fast, almost embarrassing in its intensity. 

“Thank God,” I muttered, pushing myself up and heading toward the bus stop.

The ride passed in a blur of thoughts I couldn’t shut off. My breakup. My mom. The one person I refused to think about.

When I stepped off near the estate, the quiet wrapped around me immediately. It always felt like crossing into another world, one where chaos couldn’t reach.

Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to actually live here instead of that suffocating apartment.

If I had grown up with a father, would my life look anything like Diana’s?

The guard waved me through. “Evening, Miss Roxette.”

“Hey,” I said, giving a small wave as I walked down the long driveway.

Halfway to the mansion, I shifted my bag and let out a breath. For the first time all day, my chest felt lighter. Maybe tonight I could just sleep. Pretend nothing was falling apart.

A soft honk cut through the silence behind me.

I flinched and turned.

A sleek black car idled a few feet away, headlights dimmed, engine humming softly. Even before the window rolled down, I knew.

Then it did.

My breath caught.

Chandler Callahan looked out at me, calm and composed, already watching like he had been there longer than I realized.

He sat in the backseat, one arm draped along the leather. A driver occupied the front, silent and professional. Chandler looked completely at ease, like the world arranged itself around him.

Memories rushed back before I could stop them.

My pulse spiked.

He studied me for a moment, then the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Well,” he said, voice smooth and low, “that’s not the reaction I expected.”

I folded my arms. “You startled me.”

“Did I?” His gaze flicked to my bag, then back to my face. “Heading somewhere?”

“I’m seeing Diana,” I said, lifting my chin. “She told me you weren’t home.”

A faint, amused smile appeared. “Clearly.”

He tilted his head toward the empty seat beside him.

“Get in.”

Not a request.

I paused just long enough to remind myself I still had a choice, then opened the door and slid in. The soft click sealed us inside the quiet, leather-scented space.

The car pulled forward.

There was almost no space between us. His shoulder brushed mine with every slight turn of the vehicle, sending sparks I refused to acknowledge.

“So,” he said, turning slightly toward me, voice lowered, “you disappeared.”

I kept my gaze ahead. “You were asleep.”

“And you took that as permission?” His tone stayed calm, but something sharper hid beneath it.

“It was a one-time thing,” I said.

His jaw shifted. “That’s not what I said.”

The memory flashed. His voice, certain and unyielding.

‘You’re mine now.’

Heat crept up my neck, but I forced myself to stay composed.

“You say a lot of things,” I replied. “Doesn’t mean I signed a contract.”

A low chuckle escaped him, almost approving. “I don’t need paperwork. I just need to know you remember.”

I swallowed, suddenly aware of how close his knee was to mine. 

“And if I don’t?”

His gaze traced my face slowly before meeting my eyes again.

“You wouldn’t be in this car.”

The words settled between us, heavy and undeniable.

The estate entrance appeared ahead. He leaned slightly closer, not touching, but close enough that I could feel his warmth.

“You should be careful,” he murmured.

“Of what?”

“Coming back here,” he said quietly. “You know what happens when you do.”

My heart thudded once, hard.

The car stopped. I reached for the handle, but his hand moved first, resting lightly against the door beside me, close enough to hold me there for a second.

His eyes held mine.

“Go see my daughter,” he said softly. “We’ll talk later.”