Cali Thomas Novels & Stories

He turned away from the sight of her struggling form and walked down to the dim, concrete corridors of the mansion’s lower garage, where the private Voss estate driver was waiting by the tool racks. Thomas was an old, greedy man whose wrinkled face bore the permanent scowl of someone who had spent decades serving billionaires while harboring a deep, simmering resentment for his own empty pockets. His love for money was intense and ugly, a well-known secret among the senior staff that Cal was more than willing to exploit for his own agenda. Cal stopped a few feet away from the older man, pulling a thick, heavy envelope packed with unmarked bills from the inner lining of his uniform jacket and

Augustus would have fired Thomas long ago for his attitude if their field hadn't been so short on talent. Thomas sneered, "So, it's all about who you know, not what you can do. The most crucial thing is having the right connections ..." He cast a sidelong glance at Calista, her beauty and perfectly proportioned body rivaling some celebrities in the entertainment industry. Thomas continued, "I can't help but wonder how many men she had to sleep with to get these connections. She could have easily become a celebrity, raking in more money and enjoying a relaxing life. Why bother with this exhausting job that doesn't even pay well?"

I said, unable to keep the warmth from my voice. “And I him,” she replied, laughing quietly as she stroked his neck. A young man stepped forward then, cap in hand. He was broad-shouldered, sun-warmed, his hands marked by work rather than ink or steel. His eyes flicked first to the Princess—but lingered on me a moment longer than strictly necessary. “Name’s Thomas,” he said. “I’ll be seein’ to Calder while he’s here. Fine horse, this one. Steady. Loyal.”

“Let’s just take a step back. Not the time—” Thomas jerked his arm away, not breaking his stare at Xavier. “Yeah, it’s easy to point fingers, but it’s hard to face the truth about yourself, isn’t it?” “Dad, please…” Calla said, trying to move him. Thomas paused, staring at Xavier, and then, suddenly, his expression shifted, his posture going rigid. He took a sharp breath, as if realizing something. The shift was subtle, but chilling. “Okay, fine. I’m not here to trash talk your brother,” Thomas said, his tone now cold, calculating. He pointed at Xavier, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I need ten grand. Like, right now.”