I offer him a sad smile. “You said Oscar used cocaine, how… I mean, how did he get it?” I query.
“It's how I made most of my money. I was, until recently, London’s biggest drug dealer. I was shifting hundreds of thousands of pounds of coke and pills weekly. It gave me unprecedented access to London’s underworld, contacts, and insight. Oscar would package drop for me.”
“A drug dealer?” I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. This is new information. Knowing how far he went to save Isabella, how he helped all those women, I had him pegged as a hero. Despite all his wrongdoings, at heart, he is a good guy. It saddens me that he had to become this person to save his family. “Do you use?” I question, feeling heavy at heart.
“No, never.” He cups my face. “Hey, trust me when I say I would never touch it, ever. I exert control over all areas of my life, Zara, like drink, I don't touch drugs.” I nod. I trust him and believe him, but this is all a lot to take in. I shift, getting extra comfy on this lap. A drug dealer, this is mind-boggling.
“So, he knew what was in the packages, then? Oscar, I mean?” I must sound so naïve, but Oscar was adamant he had no idea what jobs he was doing for Callan.
“Of course, he was on my payroll.” Callan scoffs. I shake my head. Wow, another lie he fed me that I ate up. I really had no idea who my friend was. Is. And he didn’t know me either.
“How do you even get into something like that, Callan? So many families will be affected by those drugs, people addicted,” I say quietly. I eye Callan and look away. My career gave me so many opportunities, and being involved in charities was one.
“I’m not proud. I did it to save my family, and I don't regret it. I was too late to save my mother. Atthe time, I didn't care what effect it had on those families. I just wanted mine to be okay,” he admits gruffly.
“I know.” I smile sadly, thinking of the homeless and charities I have supported to raise money for recovering addicts. All these years, we were connected without even knowing it. Whilst he was infecting the streets for personal gain, I was trying to heal it in any way I could. Being homeless at twelve gave me an insight into street life that the most privileged of people will never know or endure. To think that because of the Yovenkos’ greed and behaviour, it set a chain of events in motion—events that led me to this man.
“They are adults. They can choose to say no. My sister and mother were ripped from me, unwillingly, painfully, to endure God knows what. Isabella barely likes being touched. She was probably rap…” He can’t even say it. My smile is sad. “If ruining a few families along the way ensured my sister’s safety, then so be it. I never professed to be a good guy,” he tells me fiercely.
I bite my lip, hating that I’ve upset him. That was never my intention. I’m trying to get my head around all of this.
“I know. It’s just a lot to take in.” I cup his cheek. “You are, though, a good guy. To me, you always were. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Angel, I’m not upset. Life dealt me a cruel card, and I set fire to the pack.”
“It’s crazy to think overnight you became this person, all because of what the Russians did.”
“Men like me aren’t made overnight. I went to sleep with my sister’s laughter in my mind and woke to her screams rupturing my ears. I was shot and left for dead.” My brows shoot up, and Callan taps his finger to a place on his throat, just below his jawline. Below the black ink is the faint dip of a scar. “I passed out amongst the blood and chaos and woke in hospital. Fourteen, terrified, and full of vengeance, but it took years to establish myself. I had to manipulate men bigger and more feared than I was back then—gamble my life with others.”
“It sounds awful.” Lifting his big hand, I drop my cheek in it and look sympathetically at him. I know that fear, those gambles. The streets had given me more skills to negotiate my way through life than modelling ever did.
“Two sides of the same coin.” He winks lovingly, “No matter how tarnished or polished I am, without you, I’m worthless, angel.”
“Two sides. Same coin,” I whisper. Running my thumb along the neat scar at his throat, I read the words out. “Death by my own hands.” I get it now. His death is his to choose. Not for another to take. He fought to stay alive to save his family, to avenge them. Now it’s his time to live. For him. For us. I hope what bad still festers in the world gives Callan and me the peace we deserve.
“It’s done now. That's not my life anymore. You are. Me and you, beautiful.” His fingers run through my long, blonde hair. I sigh, knowing I can’t change the past. This is our future, and we need to focus on that. Knowing what I do about his past and the destruction the Yovenkos have caused along the way, I wonder if we can do anything to raise awareness. Maybe I can sell my jewellery and gift the money to charity?
“It needs cutting,” I say, wrinkling my nose.
“It’s nice, leave it.”Hedips for a kiss, and I give in, sweeping my tongue and holding him fast.
Chapter Thirty-One
“That night, the night I came into Skyn, you were so angry,” I recall.“Why?”He smirks, privy to information I’m not. “Tell me,” I ask eagerly.
“I knew who you were, of course. I keep a close eye on all my staff. Oscar being as close to you as he was, gave me a small insight into your life, and although I thought you were very beautiful, I never allowed myself to stray from finding my family, but coming face to face with you at Skyn, I wasn’t prepared.” He chuckles. “I saw you on the cameras, and I was livid with Oscar, with you, for coming into my club. You could have damaged all the work I had done. I could envision it unravelling because of one person, you.” He smirks knowingly at me. “You had entered my world, and I was prepared to punish you for it, but you turned around, and fuck me, Zara, I was sucker-punched. Someone could have put a bullet in my gut, and it wouldn’t have hurt me as much.” His breath goes ragged. “It only magnified that anger. I was pissed that I was so attracted to you. I told myself you were superficial and no doubt a snob.”
My eyebrows rise in amusement, and he grins. “But you stood up to me, held my stare, dared me to challenge you back. I wanted you then. I kept thinking how much I wanted to kiss you—what would these lips feel like.” He runs his finger over them. “How would you taste? Would you dissolve on my tongue, lose that poise and edge you were renowned for? I was surprised to find you looked so empty. Looked as empty as I felt.” His smile turns sad, and mine reciprocates. No one could ever understand our pain, not unless they’d lived it. “It was like looking at myself. I despised myself at that moment but also, I couldn't look away.”
I shudder out a breath and drop my face into his shoulder.“I thought I was scared of you, but it was how I felt around you that scared me.” I kiss his neck and peck my way up until I’m at his mouth. “I told myself I hated you for what you did to Oscar, but when I found you in my home, I was the calmest I have been in years. No more fear. It left when you were around. And without it ruling my heart, I was able to feel. I never wanted you to leave. Each night I would come home and wish to find you there. Waiting for me. I hated those nights without you. I’d relieve any moments with you because there was a connection. Wasn’t there?”
“Thereisa connection, and now you know what a worm Oscar is, I don't feel bad admitting that after seeing you for the first time, seeing your vulnerability through your strength, he deserved that beating alone for selling you out to customers for his own gain. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
I shake my head. “Such a thug,” I muse, making him smirk. “I love you.” I bite my lip and smile at him before leaning in for a kiss. “Thank you for coming back to me.”
“Always, angel.” Those big spade hands cup my face, and I melt into him. Calm. Safe. Loved.
“Take me to bed.”