Damn him, damn him, damn him.
Even after all this time, all Ford had to do was look at her with those dark soulful eyes and her heart started racing. And his touch. God, how she'd craved his touch. Despite everything, if he'd kissed her, she would have melted at his feet. Which only served to prove just how weak and pathetic she truly was.
And how much power he still held over her.
Ford Hammersmith was a heartless bastard and she couldn't let herself forget that for an instant. If she did, he would destroy her and everything she'd worked so hard to build. There was no way in hell she was going to let him ruin the life she'd fought for. Not when her dreams had finally become a reality.
"You haunt my dreams."
Her fists clenched tightly against the full-grain Nappa leather seats. The sound of his low, husky voice had invaded her senses, filling her with unquenchable need. Because she knew his taste, his touch, his passion. God help her, she'd never been able to forget it. An affliction that he obviously did not share, damn him.
Ford hadn't recognized her.
For some perverse reason, the knowledge hurt like hell. It was bad enough that he'd walked away without an explanation, leaving her with a broken heart and shattered dreams, but this was just rubbing salt into a wound that wouldn't heal. To him, she was just a random woman he wanted to fuck.
Maybe that was all she'd ever been.
Her eyes began to burn before a tear slid down her cheek. Angrily, she swiped it away. No way in hell was she breaking down and having a pity party. She'd cried enough tears over that bastard to last a lifetime. Callie was no longer the pathetic, broken girl who had fallen apart because the man she loved walked away.
She had fought long and hard to become the strong, independent woman that her mother had raised her to be. The kind who didn't need a man to complete her. She knew the value of self-respect and her worth as a decent human being. So what if he hadn't recognized her? That had been the whole point of her transformation, hadn't it?
Ford's reaction was confirmation that no one could look at the successful woman she was today and suspect that she was the same wild teenager that she had been back then. Callie had changed everything from her name to her hair color. She had created an entirely new persona to fit the life she wanted to live.
The only thing she hadn't been able to change was the color of her eyes. Oh, she'd considered colored contacts, but her mother had loved her amethyst eyes so much that she hadn't had the heart to disguise them. The deep purple color was so unusual that most people thought they were contacts.
Her eyes were the one thing that Ford should have recognized, yet he hadn't. Proof positive that he'd forgotten her as easily as he'd walked away. Callie had long ago accepted that she had meant nothing to him so the pain she was experiencing filled her with self-loathing and her hatred for him rekindled stronger than ever before.
She knew from experience that hate was a useless emotion. Anger was her friend so she embraced it. She could channel its all-consuming fire into her designs and use it to fuel her creativity. It was a process she'd perfected over the years with spectacular results. Some of her best designs had come from fury filled sessions at her drawing board.
As soon as she reached her loft, she selected a heavy metal playlist, sat down at the drawing board, and gave the fury free rein. Her hand flew over sheet after sheet of paper, colorful charcoal images forming on each page without conscious thought. Callie lost herself in the hard rock beat as the cathartic ritual soothed her troubled soul.
Mentally exhausted and physically drained, she tossed the charcoal pencil aside and grabbed a wet wipe to clean her fingers. She didn't bother to look at what she'd tirelessly created. There would be time enough for that in the morning. For now, she needed a glass of wine and a relaxing bath to help her wind down.
"Your talent never ceases to amaze me," a familiar voice opined from the connecting room when she turned the music off.
Rising from the stool, she turned toward the open doorway to glare at her business partner. "You bastard," she accused with what little heat she had left in her.
"Guilty as charged," Bastion confirmed without contrition from his slouched position on her living room couch. Even relaxed it was impossible to mistake him for anything other than what he was; a dangerous man. Yet she had no fear of incurring his wrath as theirs was a bond that superseded mere friendship and bordered on familial ties.
From her earliest memories, Bastion was the one constant in her life. The only man she had ever been able to rely on to be there for her, no matter the circumstances. For him to let her down and break a promise was simply inconceivable. "I cannot believe that you reneged on our deal," she bit out.
With a heavy sigh, he sat up and reached for the bottle of wine he'd placed on the coffee table. "I didn't know until after the auction started that the rules only allow one win per bidder," he admitted as he poured her a glass and himself a refill.
That meant he had won a date with someone else, which was shocking in and of itself. Despite his rather scary if well-earned reputation, Bastion never lacked female companionship. He was a handsome devil with a well-honed body and sharp intellect. Not to mention he was filthy rich, so members of the opposite sex flocked to him like bees to honey.
"I was supposed to be the one," Callie complained as she sank onto the couch beside him and accepted the glass he offered. "You promised to win me if I participated and you didn't even bid. How the hell could you just sit there and let Ford fucking Hammersmith win?"
"He was sitting in the back of the room so I didn't know it was him until the bidding was over," he complained and the menacing expression that scared sane people out of their wits was back. It didn't even faze Callie because she had absolute faith in the knowledge that Bastion would never harm her. "Are you alright?"
"Does it look like I'm alright?" She demanded and flung an arm toward the designs littering the floor around her drawing board. He knew her habits well so her question was as redundant as his had been. "He didn't recognize me, Bastion," she admitted as she stared into the contents of her glass so he wouldn't see the pain in her eyes. "Ford doesn't know who I am."
"Are you sure?" He asked doubtfully.
"Oh, yes. I'm just someone he wants to fuck," she imparted bluntly and almost smiled when the swallow of wine he'd just taken went down the wrong way.
"I'll deal with Hammersmith," he said dismissively after coughing the liquid from his lungs.
"Before or after our date?" Callie demanded in exasperation and took a healthy swallow of the vintage wine.
"There won't be a date," he assured her and pulled her against his side in a comforting embrace. Her head nestled against his chest just as it had done since she was six years old. "I'm sorry I let you down, kiddo. It wasn't my intention, and I'll do whatever it takes to fix this debacle."
Other than tonight, Bastion had never let her down before. If he said he was going to do something you could damn well believe he'd do it. Since he routinely ignored or circumvented pesky things like laws she was better off not knowing the details. "Fine. You deal with it," Callie readily agreed and really didn't care how he handled the situation. "Who is she?"
"Who?"
"The woman you're so hot for that you left my ass swinging in the breeze to bid on," she snarked with her usual sass.
Even though he knew everything there was to know about her life, the man who was the closest thing that she had to family remained somewhat of a mystery. He never discussed his past for any reason, with anyone, herself included. He was very private about his personal life and she respected that enough not to pry. So it was no wonder that he shocked Callie into complete silence by admitting, "My wife."
She hadn't even known he had a wife!
CHAPTER TWO
Ford
Having awakened from another of those damnable erotic dreams, Ford lay there panting until his heartbeat regulated. He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his chest st
icky with the evidence of the orgasm that had him shouting her name aloud. Callie. God, he couldn't wait to fuck her. To make each and every one of his damned dreams become a reality.
Anticipation filled him as he slid from the tangled sheets and strode into the bathroom to relieve his bladder while the shower heated up. Stepping inside the glass door, he stood in the center while the numerous showerheads pelted his body from every direction much as they had in his dream.
Shower sex with Callie was going to be fucking phenomenal. This morning's dream had her on her knees, just like he'd imagined the night before. She'd been so fucking beautiful with his cock in her mouth. Those stunning amethyst eyes staring up at him in complete adoration. Annnd just like that, he was as hard as granite again.
Fuck.
There was no fighting the irresistible pull she had on him so he fisted his cock and closed his eyes. Reliving the dream that was still so vivid in his mind, Ford could see her head bobbing up and down to the rhythm of his hand. Feel the damp strands of her short black hair as he'd plunged his fingers through it to guide her motions.
Short black hair?
What the fuck? Callie had long platinum blonde hair that faded into a deep purple at the ends, so why the hell would he fantasize about it being black? Sure, his preferred type had been dark hair in the past, but now that he'd seen her, he couldn't imagine anything sexier than her dual-colored hair.
Unless it was the lip rings. Fuuucck. He'd almost forgotten about them, though they were a new addition and not something he'd dreamed about before. This time she'd had tiny silver hoops wrapped around each side of her lower lip. The metal had felt warm and slick as his sensitive cock slid past them.
Concentrating on the mental image to see if he'd missed anything else, he noticed that she looked a hell of a lot younger. Way too fucking young like Bimini. Bimini! Of course. He'd read that dreams were just compilations of subliminal messages the brain had received throughout the day. His aversion to Bimini's youth must have transferred onto Callie in the damn dream.
Aww, fuck. Talk about a cockblocker. Thoughts of the younger woman had effectively killed his erection again. Ford released his flaccid cock and laughed softly at the realization that all he had to do was think of Bimini to get rid of an unwanted erection. The little minx would be madder than hell if she knew.
However, he didn't give a damn how she felt. Callie was the only woman he had room in his thoughts for. Starting with figuring out a way to change her unflattering and misconstrued perception of him. Not knowing exactly why she disliked him was a problem, but he was confident of finding a way around it.
Two hours later he was still pondering the issue.
Having decided that flowers ought to be a nice start, as soon as he got to the office, he'd ordered a special bouquet to be sent to her. Now he was on pins and needles waiting for her response, which was why he was staring into space and wondering how long it took to deliver flowers when his office door burst open.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Hammersmith," his secretary said anxiously as she followed behind the interloper. "He wouldn't wait to..." The rest of her apology was cut off by the door slamming in her face.
He'd been expecting some version of this visit ever since the hammer had dropped the night before. It was good to see that Baines was as predictable as he'd assumed the man would be. Too bad he'd made the effort for nothing. Ford wasn't backing down and he had no intention of going away as the bastard presumably wanted him to.
Baines stalked across the room and tossed a cashier's check on his desk before growling, "Consider this reimbursement for your bid. Stay the fuck away from Callie."
"I'd hate to see an article in the society section about a fashion designer who didn't honor a charitable pledge," he opined in a bored tone and picked up the check. Not that he'd actually carry out the threat, but the other man didn't know that. "Publicity like that would be bad for business."
"You're right," the man known as the Dark Lord agreed in a menacing tone. "I'd much rather see your name in the obituaries."
"Or yours in the crime section," he countered with a smug smile and tore in half the check written for ten times the amount that he had bid. "You can't buy me off or scare me away, Baines. I won a date with Callie and I intend to claim it."
"Are you so fucking desperate that you'll stoop to chasing a woman who hates you?" The other man bit out.
When it came to Callie, damn right he was. "She'll change her opinion of me after our date," he replied confidently.
"If you persist in this and hurt her, know this," Baines grated harshly. "I will find what you hold dear and destroy it."
The threat had sounded like a promise and it assured him that the other man was not bluffing. "It would appear that I already know what you hold dear," he replied evenly since it was obvious that the ruthless bastard cared a great deal for Callie. "But rest assured, I have no intention of hurting her."
"You just want to fuck her," he snarled viciously.
"Absolutely," he confirmed without hesitation since that was a priority. "But if it turns out that we're compatible in other areas, I'm open to having a relationship as well."
Ford had never seen anything as menacing as the other man's expression and truth be told, it was unnerving as hell when Baines placed both hands flat atop the desk and leaned forward. "Would you die for Callie, Hammersmith?" He ground out between gritted teeth. "If the answer is no, you're not the man she needs so stay the fuck away."
That said, Baines stormed out of the room leaving Ford to wonder if the man had meant that literally or figuratively. Considering who had posed the question, his merciless reputation, the tone of the conversation, and the comment about Ford's obituary, it was most likely a metaphorical death threat.
If not, the idea of giving his life for a woman he barely knew should have been preposterous, but it wasn't. It was her eyes. The vulnerability in those unforgettable amethyst eyes had reached inside and roused his protective instincts. Bizarre as it may seem, he knew that he wouldn't hesitate to place himself between Callie and danger even at the expense of his own life.
Fuck.
Ford sprang from the chair and walked to the window, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. He was losing it. What kind of man would be willing to die for a woman who wouldn't even give him the time of day? One who, if Baines were to be believed, hated him? Odd how the thought made his head and his chest ache.
Fuck!
He was losing it alright. His all-consuming desire for Callie had obviously become an unhealthy obsession. Maybe it was time to visit the damn shrink again. The doctor had helped him deal with the guilt and depression years before so maybe he could make sense of this. Or at the very least, help put it into perspective. Before he could talk himself out of it, Ford grabbed the phone and made an appointment.
Callie
"Absolutely not," Bastion snarled." I forbid it."
"You can't forbid it," Callie shot back furiously, completely undaunted by his formidable wrath. "I'm eighteen and make my own decisions."
"Not while you're living under my roof."
"Then it's a good thing I'm leaving."
"Dammit Callie, Hammersmith is no fucking good. He's as bad as his reputation."
"So are you," she accused. "But you'd never hurt me and neither would Ford."
"I've loved and protected you for twelve years," he bit out. "You barely know that bastard so don't compare the two of us."
"I know he loves me and I love him. Why can't you just be happy for me?"
"Because I'm trying to protect you," he roared. "You're too young to understand so you need to trust me and stay the hell away from him."
"Don't make me choose between you," Callie warned. "Because you'll lose."
Pain flickered in his darker than the pits of hell eyes before he said coldly, "Then I've already lost. Because the only thing I can't protect you from is yourself."
Tears filled her eyes because she had hurt him and that wa
s something she had never meant to do. Despite that, Callie wasn't about to back down and give in. "Goodbye, Bastion."
"Callie," his harsh tone softened to the gentle gruffness he normally used with her. "I will always be here for you, kiddo. No matter what."
Hardening her heart, she replied, "Thanks for the offer, but I'm never coming back."
Callie sat straight up in bed, heart hammering, pulse racing, her breathing short and raspy. Shoving the hair from her face, her wild-eyed gaze took in her bedroom and she expelled a shaky breath. She was home, safe, and sound. It had only been a recurring nightmare. The one where she had walked away from everything to be with Ford.
The one she had lived through and barely survived.
Scooting backward in the bed until she was pressed against the headboard, she drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Laying her head on her knees, she closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing. Within a few minutes, she had managed to calm down and avert an anxiety attack.
But she couldn't get the dream out of her head. If only she had listened to Bastion all those years ago, she could have saved herself so much pain and heartbreak. But he'd been right. She had been too young to understand and Ford had hurt her. And as promised, Bastion had been there to pick up the pieces.
As if the dream had been some kind of precursor, her day just got worse.
When the flowers arrived, Callie had a mini-meltdown. She was torn between the urge to sit in a corner, bawling her eyes out, or run through the streets screaming like a banshee. Before she could do either, her best friend called to invite her to lunch. She jumped at the invitation like it was a lifeline in the hopes that the other woman could talk her off the ledge.
If anyone could do it, Soraya Morgan could. The woman had a way of cutting through the BS to get straight to the heart of a matter. Not to mention her off the wall advice was as entertaining as it was practical. Unfortunately, the conversation was going to require more privacy than could be found in a public restaurant.
Heartless Bastard (Rich Ruthless Bastards, #1) Page 2
