Bella
Staring back at me is a gorgeous statue of a man, standing at least six-foot-three. Black, disheveled hair. Skin that doesn’t look like it’s seen sun in years. Eyes so dark they’re almost black. He’s wearing a black suit, tailored to fit him perfectly. There’s a bit of scruff on his face, but it only adds to his appeal.
A strange feeling washes over me. There is something oddly familiar about him. Have I met this guy before?
“Hello, Bella,” he says, standing afar and taking me in while I do the same. Those two words are like music singing to my soul. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, but I feel like I’ve known him for years.
I should get up. Greet him properly. Though, I don’t move as he comes closer. His eyes boring into mine, as if they’re searching for something.
Swallowing hard, I take in a deep breath to try and steady my racing heart. “It’s nice to meet you.” I finally stand. Stepping around the chair, I meet him face to face.
“This is a beautiful place.” Breaking the gaze I hold on him, I give the room a lazy sweep. Looking into those eyes is dangerous. They have the ability to turn off all logical thinking, while paralyzing my whole body.
With his feet planted firmly to the floor beneath him, he folds his hands in front of him. “It will be.”
His voice, again, sends a rapid-fire of electricity through me.
It’s apparent he’s a straight-to-the-point man and doesn’t mind that he’s making me feel highly intimidated at this moment.
Tension sizzles between us as we stand there silently. Even if I was standing here completely naked, I’d still feel the same level of exposure I’m feeling right now.
Say something, Bella.
I go with the first thing that comes to my mind. “I met your attorney and signed the contracts.”
He gives a subtle nod, keeping the same blank expression on his face. Not even a tug at his lips.
“Okay,” I drop my shoulders, “I’ll just see myself to my room and we can get started in the morning?”
Nothing. Not a hint of a smile, nor a frown. This man is completely zombified, and even if he is freakishly handsome, it’s sort of creeping me out.
I press my lips together firmly and walk to the door.
“You’ve changed.”
His words catch me by surprise. I turn around to face where he stands. Puzzled, I question his statement. “I’ve changed?”
“Your eyes.” He takes a step closer, examining me all over again. Each step has my heart sinking deeper into the pit of my stomach. “They once spoke to me. I could read your thoughts with just a look.”
That strange feeling washes over me again. No.
It can’t be.
I push away the bizarre thought. Tilting my head, I look into his eyes, probing for the reason behind the familiarity. It’s uncanny. But I refuse to believe that the man in front of me is Callum.
Concentrating on his face, I dig deeper. Dark brown orbs that wear a lifetime of pain. I see loneliness. I see hate for the world he’s forced to live in. I see him—Callum. Fourteen years old, standing at the dormer window in the attic. The same eyes that looked back at me as I drove away. His stare shot through me with more force than a silver bullet. Much like this moment.
He comes closer, eating the foot of space between us. Looking down on me, his warm breath clouds my logic. “We meet again, Bella.” The way my name rolls off his tongue makes me dizzy.
“Oh my God!” My hands clap to my mouth. I’m speechless. It really is him. In an instant, I throw myself into his arms while he remains impervious. His arms are draped at his sides, his expression still as serious as ever. “I can’t believe it’s really you.” I can’t think straight. The words I’m choking on as they come out of my mouth are barely audible. I pull back, looking up at him. “How? How did this happen?”
His eyes bore into mine, though, they’re different. Everything about him is different. What once was a tall and lanky boy with glasses and in desperate need of a haircut, now stands before me as a muscular grown man with facial hair and a jawline that could chisel glass.
“Fate,” he finally says. One simple word that speaks a thousand different volumes.
“Fate?” Am I naive to think that fate brought us back together?
I’m sure Cal can see the rapid beating of my heart as we stand mere inches apart. Yet, he fosters the same hard glare he’s had since the second I looked at him. Proof that fate did not bring us back together. He orchestrated this. He brought me here.
“You’ve had a long day of travel. The cook has brought dinner to your room. Go eat and get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.
“But, I—”
“Tomorrow,” he says sternly.
I nod in response. Hesitantly, I take a few steps back and turn around to leave.
When I reach the door, I glance over my shoulder. Cal has given me his back as he fidgets with his phone.
Tomorrow.
