“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question to ask.” She pulled out of his arms and took a step away from him. “I’m not in the mood for coffee and I don’t think anywhere is open. Bye, Ruin.”
She turned on her heel and walked away.
He waited, keeping his distance, and then followed her. He knew exactly where he was going, but he had to make sure she got home safely. The codes to her building were pointless. Ruin wondered if she even realized that the doors remained open, and she was the only resident who typed in a code to enter the building. She had a tight fucking landlord where she lived. He didn’t believe in repairing shit, but he liked to take people’s money and hike up the rent if it suited him.
Standing across the street, Ruin dropped his façade of being approachable. A couple of women were working the street, and the moment they saw him, they crossed over and tried to avoid him. This is what he was used to—people fearing him.
With Callie, he tried.He smiled and pretended to be the fumbling knitter. It was so far from the truth, it was laughable. All in the name of trying to find out what the fuck Dante was up to. He didn’t trust the bastard, never had. Something wasn’t right. Callie was the key, but he needed to get close to her. The only problem he had now was his dick was hard with the thought of how close he wanted to get to her. So fucking close. He wanted to give her a taste of all the delightful things she was missing out on. Soon.
Then, once he’d given her some life experiences, he’d kill her.
****
Work wasboring, but Callie liked that. Nothing changed. Only the numbers. The people stayed the same. She preferred to be ignored. She ate her sandwich on her own in the main canteen, while others ordered food from the café part. She wasn’t interested in being involved in their conversation. She was more than happy by herself. It made life easier.
She did this for the whole five days: going to work, eating lunch, finishing work, walking home. She sat in her apartment with her knitting. Only this week, she had put her knitting to one side. She made herself finish the last shirt, and then she’d walked to the hospital to donate her latest bag of work. She’d enjoyed that, like she always did, but then she went back to her life. Only now it was a Friday, and after her mother pleaded with her to be part of her life, to go out and find a man, she had put on a dress, done her hair, added some makeup, and she was heading to a bar.
Callie didn’t know which bar was considered the“in” crowd. She had no idea but if she went in, had a drink, and stayed for ten minutes, it was a start. She had nine years of not doing what her mother asked to make up for.
Humming to herself, she saw a sign for a bar, but there were so many letters missing, she couldn’t quite figure out the name. Unlike the dance clubs, there was no line to get inside, and to her, that was a bonus.
Her heart raced a little as she walked down the steps.She entered the bar and saw it was indeed busy. There were a lot of men and a few women around. Her first instinct was to turn away and run like crazy but instead she forced herself to walk toward the bar. She took a seat, slid her purse into her lap, and clasped her hands together.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
“Er, I… whatever you recommend.”
“You do know that is not a good thing to ask for in a place like this?”
Callie gasped as Ruin slid into the stool next to her. He had a glass of dark amber liquid in his hands.
“Ruin,” she said.
“Callie.”
“She’ll have aglass of the best white wine,” Ruin said. “And don’t try to fuck it up for her, Frank.”
“Will do, Ruin.”
Callie stared at her clasped hands.
“Did you know I was going to be here?” Ruin asked.
She lifted her head and glared at him. “Are you seriouslyaccusing me of stalking?”
Ruin chuckled. “No, babe. I’m just asking if I’d let you know where I’d be on a Friday night?”
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t have a clue. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Are you trying to get rid of that peskyvirginity of yours?”
Callie glanced round the room, wondering who could have heard him.
“Don’t worry about everyone around here. None of them give a fuck. They’re all here to get their dick wet. Trust me, unless they know you’re easy, they’re not interested.”
This was … not like any of the conversations they hadat their Sunday knitting group. They’d only had like two discussions, but even still, this was so far out of her comfort zone.
And yet, you like him.