Children of Vice (Children of Vice 1)

Washing my hair and body as quickly as possible, I stepped out of the shower to find Danielle holding a towel for me along with the robe and ring. Startled, but it wasn’t like I wasn’t used to being watched so carefully, I took it, drying down. From the start to finish she focused on making sure I looked and smelled perfect.

“Is there anything else you would like?” she asked, handing me a burgundy clutch purse that had nothing inside of it, and spread something on my face for the makeup.

“Danielle, is there a reason for the gray and burgundy?” I asked, staring at my reflection…I didn’t recognize myself…again. She’d even added soft waves to my gold hair.

“No. Mr. Callahan is wearing these colors today,” she said as if it were nothing, laying my hair over my shoulder.

“You had me match him?”

Knock.

Knock.

She rushed to the door, opening it partially. “She’s ready.”

Am I? When the door opened wider I thought I’d see him. But he wasn’t there, just one of the big guards.

“Good morning, ma’am. Mr. Callahan is waiting downstairs,” he said, moving for me to walk out.

“Thanks,” I said, stepping out. And when I did, I noticed for the first time that the only two rooms in the whole hall were mine and, I would guess, his as we walked toward the elevator.

“We’re coming down,” he spoke into the mic, and I couldn’t help but grin. It was like he was part of the secret service.

When we got off my heels clicked as I reached the grand staircase. At the edge I saw him scrolling through his phone, dressed in a dark gray suit and burgundy tie and shoes and I waited. I might have had to wait forever had one of the two men beside him not gotten his attention. He glanced up, his green eyes solely on me. Placing his phone into his suit pocket, he walked up the stairs and offered his arm.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Morning,” he replied. Neither of us said anything, walking back down the stairs and out the front the door where a white Bentley sat parked. He took the keys from one of the men and opened the passenger door for me. Sitting in the red-colored seat, I watched as he walked around to sit beside me.

“You look nice,” he said, starting the engine.

“You had to wait until we were in private to say that?” I crossed my arms. “Why? You think your cronies will think you’re soft or something?”

He glanced over at me, one of his eyebrows going up as he asked, “Who the hell still says cronies?”

Seriously.

“Me.”

“And yet you call me bizarre.” He snickered, shaking his head as he drove past the gates.

“I never said I wasn’t either,” I muttered, leaning back into the seat. In the rear-view mirror I saw the black Range Rover following us.

“You are Catholic, correct?” he asked only now…as we were on the way to his church.

“Does it matter?”

“Is it impossible for you to answer me directly?” He frowned.

He was kidding me! “You hardly answer me directly either!”

“What have you asked that I haven’t answered?” His palm slid over the steering wheel with ease. And I caught the gold ring on his pinky finger.

“Last night when I asked you where you disappeared to…you distracted me and avoided the answer.”

“You never asked—”

“I did—”