Chapter 4

Remy's POV cont.d

My eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

I knew him. Scratch that, everyone did.

He was one of the youngest billionaire CEOs in the country. The Press avoided him. People feared him. He rarely appeared anywhere that wasn’t strictly necessary.

And he was here. In my restaurant.

I swallowed. “I’m Remy.”

“I know,” he said.

Of course. He did. He was Callum fucking Kesington.

My pulse throbbed where his gaze had lingered on my rolled sleeves like he'd branded me with just his eyes.

He leaned back, finally glancing down at the menu.

I took a step back. “Would you like wine?”

“Later,” he said.

Then his phone buzzed.

He looked at it. His jaw tightened.

“Excuse me,” he said, standing.

He moved toward the hallway that led to the private restroom. But he didn’t go inside. He stopped midway, answering the call in a low voice. I couldn’t hear the words, but I saw his face change to something hard.

Then his eyes flicked toward the front door.

I turned.

A man had just stepped inside, quiet but confident. He had a thin frame, wore a long coat. He didn’t walk like a guest. He didn’t look at anyone. He looked like a security guard.

Callum moved instantly, crossed the floor, and stood between the man and the dining area.

I couldn’t hear what he said. But I knew something was up with him.

He was gesticulating but whatever it was, he didn’t shout. Didn’t raise a finger. The man turned around like he’d been dismissed by royalty. And that intrigued me more.

Callum watched until the door closed, then stood still for a long second before walking back to his table.

He sat down again, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. Calm again. Controlled.

But something had changed in the air.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He looked up.

“I need this dinner to happen. Don’t let anyone else approach this table.”

I nodded. “Understood.”

Callum's POV 

My heart has been racing ever since I stepped into this restaurant. And it needs to calm the fuck down. The sudden turn of events at the office was getting on my nerves already but staring at this man seems to worsen my situation.

The moment Sophia gave me details of my reservation and I looked it up. I knew it was him. I mean I wouldn't forget such an attractive face.

I knew I'd see him again if I came but I didn't think it was anytime soon.

I just don't get it. I can't fathom why exactly I'm drawn to him. Why I picture his hands on me. I'd never wanted to bite a man's lip before. Never imagined the scrape of stubble against my throat. 

Christ, now I couldn't stop.

Even if I have only had one girlfriend before. I've been around different women….models. But none of them had ever made my skin tingle like this.

Maybe I had it wrong. Maybe I liked guys. That would explain the weird feelings I had around Remy.

I watched him walk away, back toward the bar. Not openly. Not with intent. 

I felt it every time he turned slightly toward me behind that counter. It burned. And it pissed me off. Not because I didn’t like it but because I liked it too much.

He came back to the table and hovered with a wine list, waiting for my signal.

I didn’t look at the list. I looked at him.

Rolled-up sleeves. Hands calloused in a way I liked. Jaw tight, like he was biting back a hundred things at once.

“Merlot,” I said finally. “French. Medium-bodied.”

He nodded and turned to leave.

“Wait.”

He froze. Turned back slowly.

“I’d like you to pour the first glass.”

He blinked. “Of course.”

I shouldn’t be thinking about a man now. Especially with the situation with Ethan. But none of that mattered when this man stood in front of me.

He brought the bottle and glass over a moment later, moved with that same effortless control that I envied. He uncorked the wine and poured it slowly. Professionally. Then, left to the kitchen.

I heard his footsteps. Remy approached, wiping his hands on a cloth, casual but careful, like he could sense the energy vibrating off me.

“Everything really okay?” he asked again, coming a little closer now.

I hesitated, looking up at hm. Those dark eyes. Curious. Steady. Something about this man makes me want to be vulnerable. Soft 

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully, opening up to him. “I don’t know what the hell is happening around me anymore.”

He didn’t answer. Just gave a small nod and sat in the chair opposite me. Like he’d decided I wasn’t just a guest anymore. Or maybe he didn’t want to be alone either.

“What was that about earlier?” he asked. “That man.”

“Family,” I said eventually. “The kind that makes you wish you were adopted.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “That bad?”

“Worse,” I said. “My brother has dragged me into a shitty mess I know nothing of.”

Remy tilted his head, not quite shocked, but intrigued. “That sounds very bad.”

“It is,” I said. “And not just to me.”

Something dark flickered through his expression then, like he understood what I wasn’t saying.

I drained half the wine and stared at the table.

“I used to trust him,” I said. “Once. Before he took everything our father left us and used it to build a power play against me. Now he’s trying to drag me down with him.”

“You don’t seem like the kind who scares easily,” Remy said softly.

I looked up again.

Our eyes met.

The silence between us stretched. Thickened.

Then he stood, maybe to break it. “I should lock up,” he murmured. “Everyone’s gone home.”

“Then why are you still here?” I asked.

His eyes kept flickering to my lips like I had something on them. “Because you’re still here.”

Something twisted in my gut. The attraction was worse now. He wasn’t doing anything overt, but the way he looked at me made my skin itch. Like he saw something I didn’t want anyone to see.

I wasn’t supposed to want this. Want him .

I wasn’t even sure if I did. But my body didn’t seem to care.

“Are you telling me to go when I just got here?” I inhaled sharply. My body tensed.

He froze. “Sorry—”

“No. Don’t.”

Our eyes locked. That silence again. He didn’t move to go.

I should’ve stood. I should’ve walked out. But I didn’t. I wasn't even sure if I could.

“Can I ask you something?” I said, my voice lower now.

He nodded.

“Do you ever... want something that makes no fucking sense?”

Remy didn’t blink. “All the time.”

That was it. That was all it took for the air around us to shift. For my restraint to snap.

I didn’t know what possessed me then. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t let myself feel anything human in months.

But I stood too.

We were close now. Too close.

He didn’t move away.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered.

“Then go.”

“I can’t.”

I didn’t touch him. I didn’t have to.

I wanted to check if my attraction to him was a real thing. Or if he was feeling any sort of attraction to me. But I wasn't aware of his sexuality and I wouldn’t want to get rejected, especially not on my first time exploring this type of love.

My body leaned forward, my breath shallow. His eyes dropped to my lips. Then back up. I felt heat coil low in my stomach, something unfamiliar and dangerous and so damn addictive.

I almost kissed him but I retreated. I might have misinterpreted his body language.

What if he wasn't open minded about his sexuality? I definitely would view a man kissing me as creepy or a weirdo as a straight man. I guess I would wait for him to make the first move.

I leaned back into my seat just as I heard the sound.

Pop.

It was distant, almost muffled. But I knew the sound of a silencer. I saw a shadowy figure run past the door. My instincts flared immediately. I stood just as the front glass shattered behind Remy. He turned, confused, and I lunged.

“Get down!”

Too late.

Something whipped past me and hit him.

He stumbled with a grunt staggering back. Then looked down at his side, confusion morphing into pain as his hands came away stained red.

His face went slack. He touched his sides slowly, as if his brain hadn't yet processed what his body already knew.

My breath caught.

“Remy,” I choked out, rushing to him.

His knees buckled. I caught him before he hit the floor. His weight slammed into me, hot blood seeping through my shirt. 

“Shit. Shit.”

He clutched at me, his breath ragged, eyes wide. “Callum—”

I pressed my palm to the wound, his heartbeat wild under my fingers. “ Look at me. Breathe. Just fucking breathe.”

My voice sounded hoarse.

“No. No, look at me,” I said, voice shaking. “Stay with me. Remy. Fuck.”