Children of Vice (Children of Vice #1)(32)

It’s not your fault, Ivy! I tried to comfort myself. It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t one of those sappy girls. I wasn’t Klarissa Moretti, who was ready to do a goddamn back flip just to get Ethan’s attention. It was just biology. I hadn’t been with anyone in so long my body was just reacting to attention…just biology. It had nothing to do with Ethan.

Ethan? Why did I keep thinking his name? “Ugh.” I groaned, placing the pillow over my head. And I wanted to cry at how soft it was. Like someone had picked wings of an angel and put them on the bed…I slept on this?

“Ma’am, it’s ready.” She stepped out, and I immediately sat back up, putting the pillow down beside me. However, she didn’t look at me any differently, just waited.

Lifting the tray and moving it to the side, I walked into the white marble bathroom. Everything from top to bottom.

“Would you like me to wash your hair?” she asked, following me inside.

“I’m good from here really. Thank you,” I said, quickly realizing then I didn’t ask her for her name. But if she was anything like the hotel people I doubted she would be very conversational. I didn’t want to become…to become like them. All high and mighty as if they were better than everyone else. “What is your name?”

“Danielle, ma’am—”

“Please stop calling me ma’am. It feels weird.” I laughed, brushing my hair behind my ears.

Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry. No one told me you preferred Mrs. Callahan.”

What?

“No. I meant…” Fucking f*ck man. She looked scared.

“Either is fine, don’t worry,” I said quickly, and she nodded, leaving the bathroom. Stripping, I turned to look at my reflection, but the glass was already foggy due to the steam. On the counter I saw the robe…the one with my new initials on it. IC, even though I wasn’t even married yet. Taking off the ring, I placed it on top of it before stepping under the shower…

Mrs. Callahan.

I was going to be Mrs. Callahan.

I knew that but hearing it said was…

“Dad, what am I doing?” I sighed, placing my head on the marble. Upon asking that question my heart ached…he was gone. I was doing this because he was gone. Because this was my only option.

“And what can you do from a prison cell eight hundred miles away?” Cillian’s voice snaked into my mind.

Slamming my hand on the wall in anger, I stood back up straighter.

That’s why I’m doing this.

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.