Chapter 153: Don’t You Dare

Chapter 153: Don’t You Dare Callan lay sprawled on the bed of his hotel room, a dim golden glow from the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the ceiling. The girl next to him was pressing kisses along his jawline, her voice low and sultry as she traced lazy patterns around his nipples. Despite how good she was at what she was doing, it wasn’t enough to distract him from the thoughts crowding his mind. Emily. Was she asleep? Was her head buried in one of her boring medical texts? Or was she hunched over her laptop writing? Was she still upset? How long more was she going to stay mad? he wondered. His eyes flickered toward his phone resting on the nightstand. He chewed the inside of his cheek, debating for the fifth time whether to call her and find out if she was settling in well or just let her be. She hadn’t exactly been warm earlier, but still, she was his guest and it was her first night in his house. Leaving her alone there might not have been the best move. He didn’t know what else she expected him to do. He had apologized to her for the past yet she kept acting that way. The girl beside him purred against his neck, but Callan didn’t notice as his thoughts had slipped into the past to when the conflict between them had first started. He had been eighteen, back home for the summer holidays. Tired from a long day, Callan had crashed on his bed without a shirt, the window open and the afternoon sun lazily pouring in. The next thing he knew, he was stirring from sleep, groggy and still blinking the blurriness from his eyes, only to find Emily, barely fourteen, leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips. Callan had frozen. Shocked. Confused. A little scared, even as his eyes darted to the door. He had known she was at the house to spend her holidays and he had actually come for his summer holidays earlier than he planned because he knew she would be at home, but he had not expected her to make such a move on him. "What the hell are you doing?!" he’d barked, scrambling to sit up and pushing her away with more force than he should have. Emily had stepped back, startled, guilt and fear washing over her pretty innocent face like a fast tide. "I— I have a crush—" "Get out of my room. Get out now! Don’t you ever come near me or my room again. I mean it, Emily. Not one inch near my room," he had shouted, his voice louder than necessary because he didn’t want to hear what she was saying. Tears had filled her eyes. "Why?" she’d asked in a trembling whisper. "Why don’t you like me?" His chest had tightened. But instead of saying the right thing and explaining things calmly, he had been too angry and flustered to think clearly. "You’re stupid if you think I’ll answer a stupid question like that. Get lost right now," he’d snapped. The very next day he had invited a girl to the house and made sure Emily saw him kiss her before he went into his room with the girl. He had thought that would be enough to put an end to the crush she thought she had on him or whatever twisted feeling he had for the girl who was practically his cousin, but he had realized his mistake too late only after crossing a line he had no business crossing with her that although he knew in his head that she was family, his body and heart knew she wasn’t his blood relation and refused to accept her as such no matter how much he tried to keep her away. A pair of soft lips brushed against his neck again, and Callan blinked back to the present before he could think about the day that had truly changed things between them. "Hey," the girl whispered. "You’re totally distracted. What’s on your mind?" Callan gently moved her hand off his chest and sat up. "Sorry," he said, no longer in the mood. "I’ve got a lot on my mind tonight." She sat up too, eyebrows drawn. "But I just got here. Don’t tell me you’re kicking me out." "I’m not kicking you out," Callan replied. "I just... I need some time alone. You can go back to the club. Or do anything you like." She pouted. "Seriously?" "Yeah. I’m not in the mood tonight," Callan said, running his fingers through his hair. She huffed, but before she could argue further, his phone buzzed. It was Jamal. Callan picked up immediately. "What’s up?" "You need to go home," Jamal said urgently. "One of your girlfriends showed up at the house. She attacked Emily." Callan jumped off the bed. "What?" "I was on the phone with Emily when she opened the door. The girl said you invited her over." "What the hell—" Callan grabbed his jeans and shirt from the floor. "Is Emily okay?" "I don’t know. She dropped the phone during the struggle. I’m not sure what the situation is at the moment." "I’ll call you back," Callan said as he hung up the call so he could dress up. "Why the hell didn’t she call me first before opening the door?" Callan shouted to no one in particular as he shoved his feet into his shoes, forgetting he was not alone. "Babe," the girl called, reminding him of her presence. Callan turned to glare at her. "I said leave! I’m not in the mood!" He snapped at her, and she flinched before hurrying out. Callan rushed out the door and sprinted down the hallway. As he reached the elevator, his heart thudded in his chest, each beat pulsing with worry. Which of the girls was it? What if Emily had been hurt? He gripped the steering wheel tight as he sped through the night, calling Emily again and again. No answer. Another call. No answer. "Damn it!" he muttered, slamming his fist lightly on the wheel. He dialed Jamal again. "She’s not answering!" "How’s she supposed to answer if she’s fighting off your girlfriend?" Jamal snapped. Callan swore under his breath. "You’re not helping." "Sorry," Jamal said more calmly, "she probably can’t. But look, if she got hurt, she’ll need someone calm and reassuring. So don’t go in there yelling." "I swear, if that crazy girl laid a hand on her..." Callan growled. "Just get there fast." Callan ended the call and stepped on the gas, weaving through traffic with the kind of reckless speed he hadn’t used since his college days. By the time he pulled into his driveway and jumped out of the car, his mind was in overdrive. He rushed into the house and stopped cold in his track. Emily was seated on the couch, legs crossed, hands in her lap, watching something on the TV like nothing had happened. Meanwhile, the girl lay on the floor in front of her, arms behind her head, eyes on the ground as she whimpered pitifully. "What the hell is going on here?" Callan demanded, looking between the two women. The girl immediately scrambled up, rushing to him with tears streaking her cheeks. "Cal! She attacked me! Look at what she did!" She said, showing him the scratches on her arm and neck. "She threatened to leave marks on my face if I didn’t stay that way on the floor." Callan stepped back, pushing her gently aside as his eyes locked with Emily’s. "What happened?" he asked, his voice quieter now as his gaze swept over her, lingering on the red scratch on the side of her face. "And why weren’t you picking my calls if you were okay?" For a moment he had forgotten that she was fully capable of protecting herself having attended self defense classes with Mari. Emily looked at him, her tone sharp and angry. "Is that what you’d have said if your lunatic girlfriend here poured acid on me?" Callan stiffened. "Acid? Did she have acid?" "I didn’t! I swear!" the girl cried, turning to him. "I didn’t bring anything like that!" Emily stood and began walking toward her bedroom. "I knew it was a mistake staying here," she muttered. "Emily—" Callan started, but she raised a hand without looking back and continued walking. As her bedroom door shut with a soft click, the girl reached for his arm again. "Callan..." Callan peeled her fingers off him. "Get out." "What?" she blinked. "Callan, please. She’s crazy. You know that, right? You can’t believe her over me!" "I don’t ever want to see you again. You crossed a line coming to my house and attacking someone under my roof when you have no idea who she is. I’m done." Her face crumpled. "But I love you!" Callan’s face hardened. "I don’t care. Leave. If anything had happened to her tonight, even your father would not have been able to save you. You’re toxic, Cindy. She sniffled and stumbled toward the door. "Please..." "I said leave," Callan repeated, his voice harsher now. She gave one last sob, then turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her. Callan let out a long breath, running a hand over his face. His chest still felt tight, and he wasn’t sure if it was anger, fear, or guilt twisting inside him. He headed toward Emily’s room and knocked softly. "Emily?" There was no answer. He knocked again. "I just want to talk. Please. Let’s talk." Still no sound. Knowing Emily, he could guess what she was thinking. He knew she probably thought he had sent Cindy to the house deliberately because she was there. Deciding that the only way to get her to open the door was to annoy her, he gave it a shot. "Why would you open the door to a stranger, anyway? You don’t even know who she is yet you carelessly opened the door and..." The door flung open before he could finish, and Emily glared at him, her gray eyes looking like a storm was gathering behind them. "Don’t you dare! Callan, don’t you fucking dare!" She yelled angrily, pointing at him. He sighed. "Fine. I just... I’m sorry. It wasn’t deliberate..." "It wasn’t? I’m expected to believe that?" She cut in, glaring at him. Callan held her gaze, "Why would I send her over to fight you?" Emily shrugged, "You might not have sent her to fight me, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t the one that invited her over for me to see her. It’s your MO, isn’t? Or do you think I’ve forgotten?" "I knew you were going to bring that up. I didn’t ask her over," Callan said in an exasperated tone. "I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t invite her over. We are grownups for crying out loud. Why would I do that?" "Probably the same reason you did it six years ago and every other time before then. To remind me that I’m your ’little cousin’," she said in a sarcastic tone, raising her fingers to make a quote in air. "Like I said, we are grown ups. I wouldn’t..." "Grown ups? You think you can just throw that word in my face and I’ll magically forget what you did?" "Earlier when you just arrived didn’t you say you are no longer mad at me?" Callan asked, and she glared at him. "I wasn’t mad then. But I am now because you obviously think I’m still the same Emily who was in love with you. And that’s why you sent your girlfriend here..." "I don’t think that. I know you don’t feel that way about me anymore and you hate me, and that’s fine. But I didn’t send her here to meet you!" Callan cut in irritably. "It doesn’t matter to me whether you did or not. If you could introduce your new girlfriend to me the very next day after deflowering me, then..." Emily’s voice cracked, but the fury in her eyes didn’t waver. "Then nothing is beneath you, Callan Quinn." Callan flinched like she’d struck him. Without another word to him, she stepped back into the bedroom and shut the door in his face.