Fuck.
Ford sprang from the chair and walked to the window, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. He was losing it. What kind of man would be willing to die for a woman who wouldn't even give him the time of day? One who, if Baines were to be believed, hated him? Odd how the thought made his head and his chest ache.
Fuck!
He was losing it alright. His all-consuming desire for Callie had obviously become an unhealthy obsession. Maybe it was time to visit the damn shrink again. The doctor had helped him deal with the guilt and depression years before so maybe he could make sense of this. Or at the very least, help put it into perspective. Before he could talk himself out of it, Ford grabbed the phone and made an appointment.
Callie
"Absolutely not," Bastion snarled." I forbid it."
"You can't forbid it," Callie shot back furiously, completely undaunted by his formidable wrath. "I'm eighteen and make my own decisions."
"Not while you're living under my roof."
"Then it's a good thing I'm leaving."
"Dammit Callie, Hammersmith is no fucking good. He's as bad as his reputation."
"So are you," she accused. "But you'd never hurt me and neither would Ford."
"I've loved and protected you for twelve years," he bit out. "You barely know that bastard so don't compare the two of us."
"I know he loves me and I love him. Why can't you just be happy for me?"
"Because I'm trying to protect you," he roared. "You're too young to understand so you need to trust me and stay the hell away from him."
"Don't make me choose between you," Callie warned. "Because you'll lose."
Pain flickered in his darker than the pits of hell eyes before he said coldly, "Then I've already lost. Because the only thing I can't protect you from is yourself."
Tears filled her eyes because she had hurt him and that was something she had never meant to do. Despite that, Callie wasn't about to back down and give in. "Goodbye, Bastion."
"Callie," his harsh tone softened to the gentle gruffness he normally used with her. "I will always be here for you, kiddo. No matter what."
Hardening her heart, she replied, "Thanks for the offer, but I'm never coming back."
Callie sat straight up in bed, heart hammering, pulse racing, her breathing short and raspy. Shoving the hair from her face, her wild-eyed gaze took in her bedroom and she expelled a shaky breath. She was home, safe, and sound. It had only been a recurring nightmare. The one where she had walked away from everything to be with Ford.
The one she had lived through and barely survived.
Scooting backward in the bed until she was pressed against the headboard, she drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Laying her head on her knees, she closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing. Within a few minutes, she had managed to calm down and avert an anxiety attack.
But she couldn't get the dream out of her head. If only she had listened to Bastion all those years ago, she could have saved herself so much pain and heartbreak. But he'd been right. She had been too young to understand and Ford had hurt her. And as promised, Bastion had been there to pick up the pieces.
As if the dream had been some kind of precursor, her day just got worse.
When the flowers arrived, Callie had a mini-meltdown. She was torn between the urge to sit in a corner, bawling her eyes out, or run through the streets screaming like a banshee. Before she could do either, her best friend called to invite her to lunch. She jumped at the invitation like it was a lifeline in the hopes that the other woman could talk her off the ledge.
If anyone could do it, Soraya Morgan could. The woman had a way of cutting through the BS to get straight to the heart of a matter. Not to mention her off the wall advice was as entertaining as it was practical. Unfortunately, the conversation was going to require more privacy than could be found in a public restaurant.
"Meet me at Opulent," she replied and yes, dammit, there was more than a hint of desperation in her voice.
An hour later, Soraya looked at their surroundings in awe and it wasn't because of the richly appointed décor. "Are you sure we're supposed to be here?" She whispered.
"I'm a member," Callie admitted as she followed the maître d' to a private dining alcove. She had known that the lounge would be practically empty at this time of day and the staff was well paid for their discretion. Not to mention they had to sign non-disclosure agreements stating that they could never repeat anything either seen or heard inside the club.
"You are? I mean holy shit," the other woman said reverently. "This is the Bastard's Club."
"Technically it's called Club Envy," she pointed out as they slid into the plush leather half-moon banquette from opposite sides. "Some of the members jokingly refer to it as the Bastard's Club since we're all bastards in one form or another."
Since Baines Luxury Resorts and Casinos catered to the rich and famous, all of the resorts were luxurious in the extreme. Each resort featured a different theme but they all had an uber private Club Envy for a select group of members, the financial one-percent. It was as elite as it was exclusive.
Bastion issued personal invitations to people who met specific criteria. Only bastards by right of birth or natural disposition were admitted. Their numbers were few and it was an eclectic blend of rich, nasty tempered people for the most part. Callie normally avoided the place, but it was the perfect venue for a private conversation.
"I've heard rumors about this place, but I didn't realize there were female members," her friend imparted.
"There are only a few of us," she admitted. "Victoria Landers being the most notable."
"Shut up," the other woman exclaimed and slapped her hand atop the table. "The Ice Queen is a bastard?"
"More like a cold-hearted bitch," she admitted with a nod. "But I like her."
Soraya stared at her with rounded eyes. "One of these days you're going to tell me about all those famous people that the rest of us mere mortals only read about in the scandal rags."
"Says the woman married to Graham Morgan," she derided. "Your husband could be a member if he was a bastard."
"Oh, he was when I met him," she easily agreed. "A bastard that is. Prying the stick out of his ass and getting him to loosen up wasn't easy."
"Now there's a mental image I do not need," Callie grimaced and nodded to the waiter patiently waiting a discreet distance away. Once their drink order had been placed, she launched into her dilemma. "I need some advice."
"Then you'd better be prepared for a dose of hard-core reality," her friend opined as she perused the menu. "I don't do sappy bullshit."
"You did while responding to Ask Ida queries," she replied in amusement because her friend had hated the politically correct advice she was forced to dispense for the columnist.
Soraya gave her a dirty look and commanded, "Ask."
Callie took a deep breath and did just that. "Bastion didn't bid on me at the auction last night and I need to figure out how to get out of a date with the winner."