"Everything is fine," she assured him with more confidence than she felt as he opened the rear door of the Bentley. Callie slid into the luxurious interior, laid her head back against the plush headrest, and closed her eyes. Her entire body was shaking with nerves, fury, and... lust. Damn Bastion for getting her into this mess. And damn Ford for being such a heartless bastard.
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."