The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

Her eyes narrowed. “Nobody’s stopping you.”

“Dammit, Sage …” His phone rang. He ignored it, but it kept ringing. Finally he muttered something, snatched the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

“Caleb,” she said, “listen to me—”

He held up his hand.

“Yes,” he said into the phone, “that’s correct. Call my office. My P.A. will …”

He began pacing the room.

Sage watched him. She tried hard to keep a cool expression on her face but her heart was pounding.

Texas? He expected her to go to Texas? Today? Tonight? She’d all but lost track of time.

Texas, when she’d never been further south than New Jersey? When she had a life here? When she hardly knew the first thing about Caleb or his family or—or—

But she’d promised to marry him …

Obviously, she’d made a mistake.

“Caleb,” she said sharply, “Caleb, listen to—”

That hand lifted again.

It was such an imperious gesture. Did he hope she’d not only obey his commands but curtsy, too?

A hot ball of anger lodged in her chest. It was a much safer emotion than the quick lick of terror and she embraced it, let it flood her senses as she stepped into the path he seemed determined to wear into the thin carpet.

He stopped dead, eyebrows raised.

“Hang up,” she said between her teeth.

If his eyebrows lifted any higher they would disappear into his hair.

“I mean it, Caleb. Hang. Up. The. Phone!”

He looked at her as if she were a new species, one he’d never seen before.

“I’ll call you back,” he snapped. Then he tossed the phone on a chair, folded his arms, and glared at her.

“Well?”

“Remember what I said about Thomas Caldwell?”

“I remember. And I resent the hell out of—”

“I don’t care what you resent. I am not going to hop from the frying pan into the fire.”

Caleb’s eyes blazed.

“I am not Caldwell,” he said flatly. “Got that straight?”

“The principle’s the same.”

“The hell it is!”

“You cannot make decisions for me and about me, without consulting me.”