Chapter 12
Dylan flipped through the television channels, not really looking for anything in particular. They needed to leave in less than half an hour, so there wasn’t really time to watch anything. He just wanted to kill time while he waited for Callie to finish getting ready.
When he hit the sports channel, he put down the remote and watched the Yankees pregame report. As the announcer droned on about the night’s starting lineup, Dylan wished he and Callie were getting ready for the game instead of the fundraiser. He’d definitely be a lot more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt instead of the tux he wore.
He didn’t enjoy these society events. Most people thought he did, but the truth was, he went because it was important to the family, not to him. If he never went to another one of these black tie affairs, it’d be fine with him.
And he really didn’t want to go tonight. Dylan kept telling himself it was because he didn’t want to share Callie. Tomorrow afternoon, she would head home. Yet, if he was honest, there was something else. He sensed something was going to happen tonight. Exactly what, he didn’t know. Just that it wasn’t anything good. He couldn’t shake it either. Dylan didn’t put any stock in premonitions. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight wasn’t going to end well for them.
“All set.” Callie stood in the doorway.
Dylan stared at the vision before him. She simply took his breath away. The sapphire gown clung to her every curve, and the color made her eyes even more mesmerizing. All he could picture was pulling every pin from her hair, slowly peeling the gown from her body, and carrying her back to his bedroom.
“Lord, I wish we had more time.” Without a thought of how wrinkled her gown might become, he pulled her into his arms. “You look incredible,” he murmured against the side of her neck, inhaling the light scent of the vanilla shampoo she favored. Slowly, he kissed his way up till his mouth settled on hers.
He’d just reached to slide the zipper of her gown down when his cell phone went off. The offending sound cut through his haze of desire, and he pulled back enough to pull the device from his pocket. “The car is waiting for us.” Dylan dropped a kiss on her forehead. “You might want to fix your makeup before we go.” Their little make out session smudged her lipstick.
Callie glared at him before turning and leaving. Dylan watched her retreating form with pure male appreciation. It was going to be a very long evening. He wondered how early an exit they might be able to make.
She’d ridden in limos to all of her proms, as well as to her cousin Rachel’s wedding. Those limos were nothing like this one. This one may have resembled the others, but everything in it was new and top of the line.
“What’s tonight going to be like? Are there going to be a lot of people? Have I told you how much I hate large gatherings when I don’t know anyone?” Callie took a sip of her sparkling water. Her mouth felt as if it was covered in cotton, yet her palms were ridiculously sweaty.
“Speeches, dinner, and a whole lot of ass-kissing. Nothing too exciting.”
The limo stopped in front of the Waldorf Astoria.
This is it. I can handle it.
“Just relax. I’ll be with you all night. If you need to leave, just tell me and we’ll go.”
Callie gave him a small, weak smile. “Thanks.”
Elegantly dressed men and women sat at every table. Some she recognized from television or magazines. The whole thing felt surreal to her, like she’d stepped into another reality. She had to fight the urge to ask Dylan to leave the minute they walked into the ballroom. While he had offered to go whenever she needed to, Callie wasn’t sure how he really felt about doing that. This type of event was not new to him. Besides, Warren probably expected him to be there along with the rest of the family.
“I can’t believe some of the people who are here tonight. Was that Mia Troy we passed when we first came in?” Callie asked, referring to a popular film star.
Dylan placed his hand on the small of her back and led her toward the bar. “Yes. She’s a big supporter of Warren’s. Has been since he first announced his plan to run. She’s also a good friend of Sara’s.”
“Really? For some reason, I thought most Hollywood celebrities tended to support Richardson.” Callie accepted the glass of white wine the bartender handed her and surveyed the ballroom in awe. She couldn’t believe she was in the same room as these people.
“Most do, but not all. Anderson Brady is another big supporter of Warren’s from Hollywood.” Dylan accepted his own drink, then placed his arm around her shoulders. “So who do you think will win the game tonight, the Yankees or Tampa Bay?”
So far that evening, she’d only spoken with her father for a few minutes. They’d just started a conversation when someone had interrupted them, insisting he needed to talk with him immediately. Callie hadn’t minded too much. While she liked her father and did want to get to know him better, she’d come tonight because of Dylan. She’d tried to tell herself otherwise before coming, but it was true. Somewhere along the line, she’d fallen head over heels in love with him, and coming tonight meant she could spend time with him.
Dylan leaned closer to her so he could whisper in her ear. They were seated alone. The table’s other occupants hadn’t yet been seated. “Are you doing okay?”
The concern in his voice touched her. While she wasn’t fooled enough to think he loved her, Callie thought he did care about her. She squeezed his hand, which rested on her thigh. “Fine. Just a little overwhelmed.”
“You’re doing great.” He placed a feather light kiss on her check. “As soon as we can go, we will. Promise. I’d much rather have you all to myself.”
Callie saw the flash of light. Turning, she caught a glimpse of a photographer before he moved on to another table. She hadn’t expected anyone to take pictures of her tonight. Then again, the photographer seemed to be taking pictures of everyone there. Obviously, this event was an even bigger deal than she’d thought.
“Callie, I’d like to introduce you to Marty Phillips. He is Warren’s campaign advisor.”
She’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of the photographer, she hadn’t noticed that someone had started a conversation with Dylan.
The man extended his hand. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Taylor. I have heard a lot about you from Warren.”
Callie smiled and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.” The man was handsome, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Dylan. Then again, not many men could hold a candle to Dylan. And the man’s eyes were so cold. The thought sounded a little silly to her, but it somehow described the eyes of the man who carefully studied her just then.
“If you’ll excuse us, I need to speak with Dylan in private,” Marty said, explaining his presence at their table.
Nodding, Callie watched them walk away. She hoped Marty didn’t keep Dylan long. She felt silly sitting all by herself and wasn’t comfortable enough to socialize with anyone else.
“Following in your mother’s footsteps?” a voice asked softly so that only Callie would hear.
Groaning inwardly, Callie turned to face her half-sister. So far that night, she’d managed to avoid the woman. In fact, they hadn’t spoken since the day they met in Warren’s office.
Keeping her voice low, she replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sara sat down and leaned closer. “I know you’re sleeping with Dylan. If you think it will last, you’re wrong.” She paused for a moment, as if waiting for some kind of response from Callie.
Don’t take the bait. “I need to use the ladies’ room.” Callie pushed back her chair and came to her feet.
Sara smirked. “Wait, you’ll see.”
Callie bit down on her tongue, afraid if she didn’t, something she couldn’t take back would slip out as she walked away. As quickly as possible, she weaved her way through the ballroom. She’d noticed a sign for at least one restroom earlier when she’d first come in, so she headed
in that direction. A few minutes of privacy would be nice. Between the general stress of the evening and her brief conversation with Sara, her stamina was shot. Hopefully, a few minutes alone would help revive her.
The ladies’ room was located just outside one of the hotel lounges, which had been closed to the public for the evening. Callie reached for the door, but paused when she noticed Dylan and Marty Phillips seated inside the empty lounge.
Though they weren’t that far away, neither noticed her. For a moment, she stood admiring Dylan. He always looked gorgeous, but tonight in his tuxedo, he looked magnificent. She didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but when she heard her name, Callie couldn’t help but listen.
“Warren has an interview with NBC next week. He wants to tell the world about Miss Taylor during it. Your mother and I are still trying to convince him to wait until after the election,” she heard Marty say.
This was news to her. Her father hadn’t mentioned his intentions during their last phone conversation.
“He plans to talk it over with her first. See how she feels about it,” Marty said.
This is wrong. Callie knew she shouldn’t be listening to a conversation she wasn’t supposed to ever hear. She should either go into the ladies’ room or return to the ballroom.
She couldn’t get her feet to move. Her curiosity was too great.
“I see you took your job of keeping tabs on her to heart. Maybe you can convince her to hold off on the announcement too. At least for a few more months.”
Job? The word rang in her ears. She took a step forward, not wanting to miss any of the conversation. Callie no longer cared that she was eavesdropping.
“You’ve kept her happy and away from the media. I knew you were the best man for the job.”
The room seemed to spin and tilt. Callie gripped the wall for support. She watched as Dylan leaned forward.
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
Callie swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. She didn’t want to believe what she’d just heard. Could everything be a lie? Just a game to keep tabs on her? A way to ensure she was content so she wouldn’t run to the media and tell them the truth.
“You just better hope Warren doesn’t find out.” Dylan sounded angry.
Marty laughed stiffly. “More like we better hope he doesn’t find out. It might have been my idea, but you are in just as deep.”
I have to get out of here. Struggling to hold back tears, Callie retraced her steps. She made it almost to the main foyer before realizing her purse with her money was still in the ballroom. In her rush to get away from Sara, she’d left it on the table. There was no way she’d get anywhere without money or a credit card.
Turning, she headed back toward the ballroom. Come on, get the bag and go before he gets back.
The low murmur of voices and the tinkling of ice in fine crystal glasses greeted her. For a brief second, she gazed at the scene. What a fool she’d been to think she belonged in this world. Taking a deep breath, she crossed into the lion’s den and made a beeline for her table. With her purse in hand, Callie’s only thought was to escape before Dylan or anyone else came looking for her. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on her side that night.
“There you are, Callie.” Elizabeth stopped next to her. “Warren is looking for you.”
Before realizing it, Callie wiped a tear from her cheek.
Elizabeth studied her for a moment, concern evident on her face. “Are you okay, Callie? You look upset.” Elizabeth’s eyes moved over Callie’s face.
Did she know about her son’s agreement with Marty? Did Sara and Jake know too? Was that how Sara knew they’d been intimate?
“I think I’m starting to get a migraine,” she replied, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for leaving. “I’m going to go back to Dylan’s and rest.”
The older woman studied her for a moment longer, and Callie was sure Elizabeth knew she was lying. “I’ll let Warren know where you went. Dylan should have something you can take. He gets migraines sometimes too.”
Callie mumbled some kind of reply and bolted from the ballroom. It seemed to take the bellhop forever to flag down a taxi. Eventually, she slid into the backseat of one and gave the driver Dylan’s address.
Her first instinct was to go straight to Penn Station. Catch the first train home. However, the haze cleared in her head long enough to recognize she couldn’t ride the train in an evening gown.
Thankfully, Dylan had given her a key earlier when he’d been forced to go into the office, so she could go out and sightsee alone. Out of habit, she threw the key into her purse before they left that night.
After entering the penthouse, Callie changed into shorts and a tank top. Then she stuffed the rest of her belongings into her overnight bag. Finally, she jotted the words ‘Went Home’ on a piece of paper and left the note and dress on Dylan’s bed. She didn’t know why she even bothered with a note. He’d never care where she went anyway as long as she kept her secret away from the media.
Without a backward glance, Callie turned off the lights and closed the door behind her.
Dylan wanted to get away from this conversation and Marty Phillips. The longer he sat there, the more uncomfortable he became. Yes, he’d agreed to keep an eye on Callie, but when they were together, his agreement with Phillips was the furthest thing from his mind. Still, he felt guilty because he’d gone along with it at all.
It’s time to end this conversation. Dylan pushed back his chair. “Listen, Phillips, I’ll talk with Callie, but I’m not going to force her. She’s a grown woman who makes her own decisions. If she wants to give Warren the green light, that’s up to her.”
“Do what you can.”
Dylan left the other man and their conversation behind. He had only one goal in mind: Finding Callie and seeing if she wanted to leave. Earlier, he’d caught a glimpse of a sapphire gown, and he’d thought she had come looking for him. When she hadn’t materialized, he’d assumed it was someone else.
When she wasn’t at their table, he walked the perimeter of the ballroom. Occasionally, someone would stop him. In no mood for small talk, he kept all his conversations short.
Bloody hell, where is she? He’d walked all the way around the room. Yet he hadn’t seen her. She wasn’t with Warren. From where Dylan stood, he could see his stepfather talking to the mayor.
She has to be here somewhere. She wouldn’t leave.
With a frown, Dylan plowed through the crowd, not even stopping when someone he knew called out to him. His mother sat at her table chatting with Senator Greenwood’s wife. Dylan stopped at their table. “Excuse, me ladies. Have you seen Callie recently?”
His mother’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “She didn’t tell you she was leaving?”
“She left?”
Nodding, his mother continued. “About fifteen minutes ago. She said she was getting a migraine. I assumed you went with her.”
Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to believe Callie was back at his place resting. She wasn’t the type to lie. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to disturb him, so she decided to leave a message with his mom, knowing he would come looking for her.
Yet something told him it wasn’t true. She hadn’t left because of a migraine. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
“Why don’t you go and check on her,” his mum suggested, sounding concerned. “I’ll let Warren know where you went.”
Dylan wasn’t sure if she was concerned about Callie or him. Regardless of which one, he didn’t need to hear her suggestion twice. “I plan on it.”
All the lights were off and the apartment was silent. Not a good sign. Still, Dylan told himself not to worry. If she did have a migraine, it would make sense that she was lying down in the dark. Whenever a migraine hit him, he preferred his room to be pitch black.
Despite the urge to fling open his bedroom door and flip on the light, Dylan pushed the door open slowly. The light from the hallway provided enough illumination
for him to see that his bed was empty and the gown she’d been wearing was laid neatly across it.
Confused, he yanked off his tie and pulled out his cell phone. He was about to call her when he saw the note.
What the . . .?
He read the note again. The two words stared back at him. Taunting him.
Why?
Dylan dialed her number. He knew she had her cell phone with her. She didn’t answer. Instead, it rang a few times before going to voice mail.
Damn, why isn’t she answering? He replayed the night over in his mind. They’d been having a good time. At least, he thought they were. Then Phillips asked to speak with him. Whatever sent her running must have happened after that.
Dylan didn’t bother wasting time to change. Tossing his tuxedo jacket and tie on the bed, he grabbed his car keys and headed back out. Urgency like none he’d ever experienced before rode him hard. There was no time to waste. She had at least a forty-five minute head start and the train didn’t have to worry about traffic or weather slowing it down. In record time, he pulled out of the parking garage, the same questions taunting him. What could be so awful that she’d take off without a single word to him? It just didn’t make sense. They’d been having a great weekend.
Pressing redial, he tried her cell phone again. Like his previous attempt, it rang several times before going to voice mail.
Bloody hell. He threw his phone onto the passenger seat. Was it possible she just didn’t have any cell service on the train? Maybe she wasn’t really avoiding his calls, he reasoned, navigating the busy New York City streets. Right, and pigs can fly.
Thanks to a rainstorm, the ride to Callie’s took longer than usual. Finally, sometime after three in the morning, Dylan pulled into the driveway behind her building. He fought to keep his worry and fear in check as he banged on her apartment door, not caring if he woke her neighbors. Something had upset her enough to send her running home. He needed to know what that was. At the same time, he was pissed she hadn’t bothered to tell him she was leaving.
Like his many phone calls and text messages, his knock went unanswered. “It’s me, Callie! Open the door! I know you’re home. I can see the light on inside.” He pounded again, this time a little harder.
The outside light went on, and she opened the door for him. Soaked to the bone, he moved into the tiny kitchen where Callie backed up till she leaned against the counter. Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying, and she stood with her arms crossed, hugging her body.
“What are you doing here?” It was the first thing she said to him. Dylan thought it was the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard. She’d run out on him and hopped a train. What had she thought he would do when he discovered her gone? Go out for a beer?
He moved to stand in front of her. “Why do you think I’m here?” What the hell was wrong with her? This wasn’t the Callie he’d come to know.
Relax, Talbot. Getting upset isn’t going to help anything.
“I went to talk with Phillips, and when I got back you were gone.” Dylan tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. “I tried calling, but you didn’t answer your phone. I sent you two text messages too.” He knew she had to hear the anger creeping into his voice, but he couldn’t do anything about it. “I was worried.”
“Worried? About what?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “That I would tell someone I was Warren Sherbrooke’s daughter?”
Of all the things she could have said, this was the last he expected. “What? No. What are you talking about? Where did you get that idea?”
“I heard you,” she said, her voice cracking. “You didn’t have to sleep with me to keep me from going to the press.” She wiped a tear off her cheek. “All you needed to do was ask me. I would’ve told you that.”
Shit, she knows. How was he going to defuse this situation? Obviously, she’d overheard his conversation with Phillips. Dylan raked a hand through his wet hair as he moved toward her, but stopped when she stepped away, putting more space between them again.
“Maybe you should add acting to your resume, Dylan. You’re very good at it.”
Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled. He knew his silence was damning, yet he didn’t know how to explain. He couldn’t deny what she’d heard. Still, he hadn’t been acting either.
“Let me explain. Please,” he pleaded. “Phillips was worried about what you might do before Warren made a formal announcement. He asked me to keep an eye on you. Make sure you were happy.”
Dylan moved toward the counter again. He only wanted to grab a towel to wipe the rain from his face, yet Callie again moved farther away. Her insistence on keeping distance between them cut him deep.
“And you felt you just had to go along with him.”
“If I hadn’t, Phillips would have found someone else to do it.” His explanation sounded so cold even to him. He could only imagine how horrible it must sound to her.
Callie moved to the door and yanked it open. “Please leave.” Her voice was soft and cracked with emotion. “And next time you see Mr. Phillips, make sure you tell him he has nothing to worry about. I won’t tell a soul Warren is my father.”
He didn’t want to leave. Not like this. “Callie, yes I agreed to help Phillips, but I do—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Dylan. Just go,” she said, interrupting him.
Just leave. If that was what she really wanted, there was no point in him staying. Without another word, he walked back out into the pouring rain.
Leaning against the closed door, Callie gave into the tears she’d been holding back. Gut-wrenching sobs racked her body. Slowly, she slid down to the floor.
How could she have been so stupid? She should have known something was up. Men like Dylan Talbot didn’t fall for women like her. Maybe in movies they did, but not in the real world.
Lucky nudged her with his nose as if to comfort her. Hugging the dog close, Callie sat and cried till no more tears would come. Physically and emotionally exhausted, she stood and headed to her bedroom. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and block all thoughts of Dylan from her mind, but the minute she saw the neatly made bed, memories of their time together in it hit her head-on like a freight train.
I can’t sleep in here tonight. Callie grabbed a pillow and headed back to the living room. However, even this room contained painful memories. She could vividly picture them sitting in here eating ice cream and listening to music that night after the baseball game.
“Unless I plan on sleeping in the bathroom tonight, I am just going to have to suck it up.” Callie tossed her pillow onto the couch. Every room in the apartment except the bathroom contained memories of her time with Dylan. Plopping down on the couch, she forced her eyes shut and prayed for a dreamless rest.
The Teacher's Billionaire Page 31
