Ford was so ready to put a ring on it and had been for some time.
Yes, he'd agreed to her no expectations and promises bullshit, and he'd abide by it. For now. But the two of them were meant to be together permanently, so he would be patient and give her all the time she needed to come to the same conclusion. In the meantime, he was going to enjoy every minute of every day in every aspect of his life.
Including his job.
His father had groomed him to take over the family business and he was damn good at it, but it didn't give him an ounce of pleasure or satisfaction. It wasn't like he was involved in designing the buildings or the actual construction of them, so he couldn't even say that he took pride in his work.
Not when his work constituted being a glorified paper pusher. Hell, he could hire a dozen people more qualified to run the business and they could probably do a better job than he did. Mainly because his heart just wasn't in it. It's not like he hated what he did, but he didn't enjoy it either.
What he did enjoy was photography.
And he excelled at it.
Ford's passion for photography was due to a chance encounter with a legend in the industry. During one of his father's parties, he'd grown bored with the adult revelry and decided to entertain himself by playing with his father's camera. He'd been more than a little surprised when one of the guests had begun giving him instructions on how to operate it.
Thus, began an odd mentorship between a twelve-year-old pampered rich kid and a forty-seven-year-old award-winning photographer. Over time Ford learned that Lazlo Adami had once been a household name for his heart-wrenching wartime photos that graced the covers of prestigious newspapers and magazines around the globe.
Sadly, the atrocities he had witnessed and captured for posterity had taken such a toll on his soul that he was unable to continue in his chosen field. Lazlo then became a highly sought-after photojournalist among celebrities, politicians, and sports figures, which was how he had wound up at one of the Hammersmith parties.
Ford had never understood what had prompted the older man to teach him how to properly use the camera, and the one time that he'd asked, the response had simply been that he was paying it forward. In any event, the boy had studied under a true master of the craft and developed a way of looking at things through a lens that few possessed.
The opportunity to shoot Callie's catalog and fashion show had been a dream come true because his true talent had finally been put to use. The pride he had taken in it had given him a sense of accomplishment and filled a void that he hadn't realized was empty. Being a photographer was what he was meant to be.
The proof of it was the masterpiece that he had framed and hung over the mantle in his Manhattan apartment. It was the shot of Callie with the bouquet of roses lifted to her face. She was the most stunningly beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and the image captured every nuance of emotion that she had been experiencing at that moment.
The triumph, satisfaction, happiness, and relief at a successful show were all plainly visible in her expression. But it was the love shining in her amethyst eyes that held him enthralled. Because she'd been looking directly into the lens, which meant she had been looking at him, and he had captured it perfectly.
"Ford," Callie gasped as he unveiled the larger than life portrait when they got back to the city Sunday night. "It's beautiful." Then she laughed self-consciously and amended the statement. "Well, that sounded vain. What I meant to say is that you made me look so..."
When she paused at a loss for words, he finished the sentence for her. "Honest. Vulnerable. Real." He stepped up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. "It's a glimpse inside your heart. I merely revealed what I see when I look at you, Callie. A woman in love. With me. The man who loves you."
She read the title plaque mounted at the bottom of the frame. "Woman in Love." Turning in the circle of his arms, tears shimmered in her eyes as she leaned up to press a tender kiss to his lips. "Thank you, for seeing the real me, Ford. You always have and it's one of the many reasons I love you."
His voice was filled with wicked promises when he scooped her into his arms and asked, "How about I show you another reason?"
Callie wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his to whisper, "Love me."
"Always," he vowed.
Callie
Choosing the images that best displayed her designs was never an easy task. Ford's keen eye for detail had made it almost impossible because they were all stunning. Since he had a morning appointment with his board of directors, she decided to make her final catalog selections at his apartment instead of her office to avoid interruption.
Callie had just finished uploading the file to her cloud account when someone knocked on the door. Picking up her phone, she checked the time and assumed that Ford had ordered lunch for her. The man was ridiculously thoughtful about doing things like that and if she wasn't careful, he'd have her spoiled.
Sliding the phone into the back pocket of her jeans, she walked into the entryway and opened the door. Her discerning eye immediately determined that the elegantly coiffed and pissed off woman standing before her in designer clothing was not delivering anything but bad news. Assuming it was a neighbor, she asked politely, "Can I help you?"
The older woman's cold, hard gaze raked her over from head to toe and if her heavily Botoxed face could have moved, Callie was certain that she would have sneered. "I'm here to help you," she replied in a tone dripping with acid as she walked inside uninvited. "You have a choice. Stay away from my son or I'll destroy you."
She stared after the woman in stunned disbelief. She had known that Ford despised his mother, and she certainly understood why. Being threatened with such venomous hatred had been truly shocking. "Excuse me?" She bit out as she snapped the door closed and followed the intruder into the living area.
Madeline Hammersmith placed her purse on the coffee table and ensconced herself on a chair as regal as if she owned the place before she deigned to respond. "As we speak, my attorney is drawing up the paperwork to sue you," she said disdainfully as she smoothed the hem of her perfectly smooth skirt.
You didn't grow up in a casino without learning a few tricks and Callie could smell a bluff from a mile away. The woman was lying through her perfect white veneers. There was no way in hell she'd damage her precious reputation with a lawsuit. "For what?" She asked without concern as she rounded the couch but didn't bother sitting.
"You have blatantly disregarded the terms of agreement and are in breach of contract," she bit out in her snooty upper-crust Bostonian accent.
"That's a lie," Callie refuted calmly. "Per my attorney's instructions, I have complied with the exact letter of the agreement. There has been no breach."
"That will be for a court to decide," Madeline warned in malicious satisfaction as her stiff lips tried and failed to form a smile.
Having learned how to handle hostile business negotiations from the Dark Lord, the older woman's empty threats didn't intimidate her in the slightest. A smug smile curved her own lips as she replied, "Yes it will, and I can assure you that not only has Malachi Black never lost a case, he won't break that record with this one."
Since her attorney's ruthless reputation was well known, rage flashed in the other woman's cold blue eyes before Madeline snapped, "Foolish girl, you will never be worthy of the Hammersmith name. So what do you hope to gain by this charade? Money? Revenge? Just tell me what it will take to get rid of you once and for all."
And there it was.
Confirmation that the spiteful old bitch had been responsible for keeping them apart. Satisfied because the older woman's composure was beginning to crack, Callie folded her arms over her chest and replied in complete confidence, "There is nothing that you can say or do to separate us again."
The look in Madeline's eyes became calculating as she studied her. "You haven't told him, have you?" She mused in realization before her expression became cunning. "I wonder how Fo
rd will react when he finds out that you're only using him to get to your son."
The coldly delivered taunt left her reeling. The evil bitch was threatening to poison their relationship with lies about her grandson's paternity! It sickened her that Ford's own mother would stoop to such deceitful tactics in an effort to turn him against her. "Nice try," she said in disgust. "But Ford knows I'm not Scott's mother."
"Aren't you?" Madeline asked triumphantly. "Your name is on the birth certificate and custodial agreement."
"You lie," she hissed furiously as pain filled her chest.
"I don't have to lie," the older woman denied smugly. "The scar on your abdomen is proof of the cesarean that delivered him."
Callie gasped in shocked disbelief, one hand lifting to her mouth while the other covered her damaged flesh in a protective gesture. Yes, she had a scar, but it wasn't because she'd given birth. It was from... She met the other woman's victorious gaze as realization dawned hard and swift, knocking the air from her lungs. No, her mind screamed as she shook her head.
She couldn't be Scott's mother.
She'd know if she'd had a child. Callie shook her head again in emphatic denial, but in her heart, she knew it was true. That precious little boy was her son. A child created from the love that she and Ford had shared. So many things that she hadn't understood before were now crystal clear, but at the same time, her mind was a jumbled quagmire of confusion.
The agonizing pain in her chest became debilitating, her breath coming in short rasping pants, tears streaming unnoticed down her cheeks, she stared back at the vile woman speechlessly. If she'd thought the pain couldn't get any worse, she'd been wrong.
"I'm sure Ford will have so many questions for you once I tell him. How are you going to explain it, hmm?" Madeline queried in a smug tone filled with contempt. "You can't deny it, and you can't admit it. You can't even discuss it with him unless you break the agreement and then we know what will happen."
"Save yourself the trouble of a lawsuit and scandal," Madeline suggested as she rose gracefully and extended her arm toward the entryway. "Walk out the door and disappear. It will be like this never even happened. Just like the last time."
Shock was a very misunderstood medical condition. Unless someone had been in shock, they couldn't fully appreciate the ramifications of it. Since she had experienced it once before, Callie knew exactly what was happening to her, and yet knowing didn't change a damn thing. She was crying and shaking and functioning solely in survival mode.
Above all else, the need to escape was primal.
"Ms. Rose? Ms. Rose, are you alright?" The doorman's concerned voice penetrated the haze surrounding her and she met his worried gaze. That was when she realized that she was standing on the sidewalk with no recall of how she'd gotten there.
"I need... to go home," the words fell from her lips without conscious thought.
"Let me get you a cab," Fred offered and quickly stepped out onto the curb to do just that. After he had her settled in the back, the doorman handed the driver a fifty and gave him the name of her building before instructing, "Make sure she gets inside safely."
Callie was not conscious of the drive as she had closed in on herself. Her mind had simply shut down and her body was barely functioning. When she had her next coherent thought, she was standing in the middle of her living area, arms wrapped protectively around herself without a clue how she had gotten there.
The vibration of her right butt cheek coupled with the sound of Bad, Bad Leroy Brown had broken her out of her stupor enough to be cognizant of her surroundings. She had assigned that ring tone to Bastion twenty years ago when she got her first phone, and even in a semi-catatonic state she reacted to it like an automaton and answered.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bastion
Callie's voice was low and hoarse when she answered the phone by asking, "Did you know, Bad? Did you know?"
"Know what?" He asked gently because he could tell by the sound of her voice that Callie was having an anxiety attack. Thanks to the piece of shit who'd sired them, the girl had lived in fear for the first six years of her life. Fortunately, she didn't remember the reason why, but the anxiety attacks were a direct result of the emotional trauma she had endured.
"About my... baby," she whispered brokenly and shocked the hell out of him.
"You're pregnant?" Bastion barked in full protector mode.
"I was pregnant... and I didn't know. I didn't know," she said in a dazed tone that rapidly changed to hysteria. "They took my baby, Bad. They took my baby!"
Jesus fucking Christ! Had she miscarried? Was she alright? Bastion's heart was hammering like thunder and his head felt as if it was going to explode. The one thing that he did know was that he needed to speak to someone who could tell him what the fuck was happening. "Where are you? Is Hammersmith with you?"
"They took my baby, Bad," Callie sobbed raggedly instead of answering. "They stole Scott."
Who the fuck was Scott? Wait. That was Hammersmith's son's name. And he'd been stolen? Fuck, had the boy been kidnapped? "Callie, honey, you're not making any sense," Bastion replied patiently in the same gruff yet soothing tone he'd used since she was a child. "I need you to calm down and tell me what happened."
"Scott thinks I gave him to his father because I didn't want him," she said shakily as if she hadn't heard a thing he'd said. "And he hates me because of it." She drew a ragged breath that ended on a sob. "My baby hates me."
Quiet sobs sounded through the phone while his brain sorted the jumble of information until comprehension finally dawned. Callie had been pregnant with Hammersmith's baby a decade ago and she hadn't known. Scott was her son and they'd kept him from her all these years. The bastard had stolen her baby.
"Fuck!"
His roar echoed throughout the enclosed space as he began barking orders to his assistant. "Get a location on Callie's phone and send Bruno to her. Tell Amy to pack her a bag and get it to the airport before we land."
Judging from the woman's terrified expression and the way her hands shook as she hastened to obey, his visage was as frightening as his tone. Ignoring her distress, he pressed the intercom button to snarl at the pilot, "Turn the fucking plane around and get me on the ground now!"
With a great deal of effort, Bastion tamped down on the rage flowing through his veins and forced his voice to turn gentle again before he spoke into the phone. "Callie, I'm sending Bruno to you. He'll take you to the airport. I'm diverting to pick you up. We'll go home to Vegas and deal with this. I'll make it right."
"I've lost them both, Bastion. It'll never be right," she denied just above a whisper.
"I swear on your mother's grave that I will make this right, kiddo," he vowed. Unbidden, another vow he'd made long ago flashed through his mind. "Swear to me, Bastion," Rose had whispered brokenly, tears streaking her anguished face as she lay on her deathbed. "Swear that you'll take care of my baby girl."
"I swear," he repeated the vow he had made that day. The vow that he had broken once before when he'd let Hammersmith take her away. Being unable to find her for almost a year had driven him nearly insane. He'd worried for her safety, grieved over losing her and felt guilty as hell for letting her go.
Bastion had torn the country apart searching, but it was as if both Callie and Hammersmith had dropped off the face of the earth. He'd threatened Hammersmith's office staff, his attorney, and his mother, but they all held to the story that he was away on an extended leave for an indeterminate period at an undisclosed location.
Now he knew why.
He'd let her down then, but it would never happen again. Their shared blood might be tainted, but she was his little sister and there was absolutely nothing he wouldn't do for Callie. If that meant killing the bastard that had broken her heart in order to get her son back, then that was exactly what he would do.
Bastion would do whatever it took to make her happy and never regret a goddamn thing.
Ford
For
d normally walked the few blocks to his office, but he was so excited to tell Callie how his meeting had gone that he was almost sprinting on the way home. He'd informed his board of directors that he would stay on as the CEO, but would be turning the day to day operations over to someone else as soon as a qualified president could be found.
Hammersmith Construction was exceedingly profitable and none of them wanted to risk a change in the leadership. They had argued long and hard against it until he had informed them that he was either going to step down or sell the company. After that, the members had grudgingly conceded to his wishes and assured him of their continued support.
When he finally arrived at his building, Fred was there to open the door, but his expression was full of worry when he asked, "Is everything alright, Mr. H?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" He asked instead of answering because he didn't have a clue what the doorman meant.
"I put Ms. Rose in a cab earlier and gave the driver a fifty to make sure she got into her building safely because she seemed pretty shaken up," the man explained. "He dropped off another fare here a few minutes ago and told me that he kept asking if she was cold since she was shaking like a leaf, but she didn't respond. Gotta admit I'm worried about her."
So was Ford. He couldn't imagine what could have upset her, or why she would have left without letting him know. "Did she appear to be hurt?" He asked anxiously.
"No, just... she looked like she'd had a hell of a shock if you'll pardon my French," the older man explained.
"Thanks, Fred. I'll head over to her place to make sure she's alright," Ford decided.
"Oh, and you have a visitor," the doorman thought to add. "Your mother arrived not too long before Ms. Rose left."
The blood began to boil in his veins and his temper flared like dried kindling. There was no need to wonder what had upset Callie. He knew his mother was responsible. "Is she still here?" He barked and the other man's eyes widened in surprise as he nodded confirmation. "Make sure she goes on the No Entry list."
Heartless Bastard (Rich Ruthless Bastards, #1) Page 13
