Chương 2
Callum ordered a beer.
Helena ordered wine.
The waiter left.
“You are not going to pretend to know about wine?” she asked.
“No.”
“Most men do.”
“Most men are better actors than me.”
“Or worse actors.”
“That too.”
For the next half hour, something unusual happened.
They talked.
Not performed.
Not negotiated.
Talked.
Helena explained parts of her work, carefully leaving out the version that appeared in interviews.
The real version.
The one where decisions involved disappointing people.
The one where every mistake became a headline.
The one where being wealthy did not stop people from assuming things about her.
Callum asked questions because he was genuinely interested.
That seemed to confuse her more than anything else.
“You are actually curious,” she said.
“I am a journalist.”
“You are an editor.”
“Close enough.”
“Not to journalists.”
“Fair.”
She smiled.
It was different this time.
Less controlled.
“You know what most people ask me?”
“What?”
“What it feels like to be rich.”
Callum lifted his glass.
“So what does it feel like?”
She stared at him.
Then she realized he was joking.
A real laugh escaped.
It was brief.
But it changed something.
Later, Callum would remember that laugh more clearly than the expensive restaurant or the uncomfortable chair or the tulips.
Because it was the first moment Helena Carrington stopped looking like someone who was waiting for disappointment.
Then Garrett Phelps arrived.
Callum noticed the change before he understood the reason.
Helena’s shoulders tightened slightly.
Her smile disappeared.
The man approached their table wearing a suit that looked custom-made and an expression that suggested the world had always moved aside for him.
“Helena.”
His voice carried the confidence of someone who never had to wonder whether he was welcome.
She looked up.
“Garrett.”
“I did not know you were here.”
His eyes moved to Callum.
Not curiosity.
Assessment.
Callum recognized it instantly.
He had seen it during interviews.
People deciding whether someone mattered before they heard them speak.
“Callum Hayes,” Callum said.
Garrett looked at the flowers.
Then at Callum’s jacket.
Then back at Helena.
The silence lasted a second too long.
“Business dinner?” Garrett asked.
“No,” Helena replied.
Something in his expression shifted.
Not surprise.
Something worse.
Amusement.
“I see.”
The words were quiet.
But they carried enough meaning to make the people nearby listen.
Then he smiled.
“Well, Helena, I suppose everyone needs a charity project eventually.”
The air changed.
Callum looked at Helena.
Her face had gone still.
Not embarrassed.
Not hurt.
Controlled.
That bothered him more.
Because he knew that expression.
It was the expression people wore when they had been hurt too many times to react anymore.
Callum placed his fork down.
“She is not a charity project.”
Garrett looked at him.
For the first time, he seemed to notice Callum was not furniture.
“I am sorry?”
Callum kept his voice calm.
“She is not a charity project.”
Garrett gave a small smile.
“Did I say she was?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too quickly.
Callum knew that.
He also knew he did not regret it.
Garrett looked between them.
“You seem confident.”
“No.”
Callum glanced at Helena.
“I just think if someone is sitting across from you because they chose to, you should probably respect that.”
Nobody spoke.
The restaurant continued moving around them.
A waiter carried plates past their table.
Someone laughed near the bar.
A glass broke somewhere in the distance.
Normal life continued.
Garrett adjusted his cuff.
Then he smiled.
“Enjoy your evening.”
He walked away.
Callum picked up his fork again.
He took a bite of food.
Only then did he notice Helena watching him.
“You did not have to do that,” she said.
“I know.”
“Garrett is not harmless.”
“I assumed.”
“He has business relationships with several companies connected to mine.”
Callum looked up.
“Does that change what I said?”
Helena was quiet.
For once, she did not seem to have an immediate answer.
Helena was quiet long enough that Callum wondered if he had crossed some invisible line.
Not because she was angry.
Because he had said something most people around her probably did not say.
They usually adjusted themselves around her.
They became careful.
Polite.
Impressed.
Sometimes afraid.
Callum had done none of those things.
“You are either very brave or very unaware,” Helena said.
“Those are usually the two options people give me.”
“And which one do you think you are?”
He looked at the plate in front of him.
“Depends on the day.”
That answer seemed to interest her more than confidence would have.
She picked up her wine glass but did not drink.
“Garrett has spent years learning how people react to him.”
“That sounds unpleasant.”
“It is effective.”
“For him?”
“For everyone.”
Callum leaned back.
He had spent enough time interviewing executives to recognize a pattern.
The most dangerous people were rarely the loudest.
They were the ones who had convinced themselves their behavior was simply how the world worked.
“He thinks money gives him permission,” Callum said.
Helena looked at him.
“You say that like you know him.”
“I know the type.”
“You do not.”
The correction was gentle.
But firm.
Callum nodded.
“That is fair.”
She looked surprised again.
“You admit when you are wrong quickly.”
“I edit other people's mistakes for a living.”
“That does not explain anything.”
“It explains everything.”
For the first time that night, Helena laughed without trying to hide it.
The sound was quieter than most people would expect from someone like her.
Callum liked that.
He did not know why.
That bothered him slightly.
He had spent years avoiding complications.
A daughter to raise.
A career to maintain.
A divorce that had left enough scars to make him suspicious of anything that felt easy.
And somehow, sitting across from a woman he had met less than an hour ago, he was already noticing small things.
The way she tapped her finger against the wine glass when thinking.
May you like
The way she paused before answering personal questions.
The way she never touched her phone unless she had a reason.
