Because He Plays Me (Because He Owns Me, Book Seven) Read Online Free

curious.”
    “About me?”
    He nodded. “Callum has never had a woman to the office before.”
    I felt myself blush.
    When we got to Callum’s office door, Ray knocked twice. “Mr. Wilder,” he said. “Adriana O’Connor.”
    “Let her in.”
    Ray opened the door for me and shooed me inside the office, and then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.
    Callum’s office took my breath away.
    Everything was bright and open, all black leather and chrome and glass, shiny and new and immaculate.
    Callum was sitting at his desk. His dark hair was mussed just a little and there was stubble darkening his cheeks. His suit jacket was off, and his crisp white dress shirt had been unbuttoned at the top, his tie loosened.
    “Hey,” I said softly.
    “Lock the door, Adriana.”
    I turned around and locked it, the room so silent that the click echoed through the air.
    I took a moment to catch my breath, and then I turned back around.
    And that’s when I saw it. The bottle of whiskey sitting on his desk.
    I took a step into the room.
    “Callum?” I tried. Was he drunk? He didn’t seem drunk. He raised his eyes and met mine, and I searched his face for any sign of him having consumed alcohol, but his eyes were bright and clear, his features just as crisp and chiseled as ever. “What are you doing?”
    “I’ve been staring at it for five hours.”
    I swallowed. “I’m not…” I wiped my palms on my dress. I was in over my head, had no idea what I was supposed to do or how I was supposed to handle this. What did you say to an addict who was thinking about drinking? I licked my bottom lip. “I don’t want you to do that.”
    “I don’t want to do it, either.” He raised his eyes to mine, and there was such a vulnerability there, such a resignation to what he was about to do that I felt my eyes fill with tears. For the first time, I felt like I was seeing him, really seeing him and the torture and pain that lived inside of him.
    “Oh, Callum,” I breathed, walking across the room to him. “Then don’t.”
    “She died because of me.”
    “Callum!” I took his hand in mine. “No. It wasn’t your fault.”
    “I should have tried harder.”
    “No, you tried the best you could.”
    “I didn’t.”
    I groped around in my head for the right thing to say, but I felt helpless, powerless against the demons he was railing against.
    “I could have done more.” He took his hand from mine, and his voice sounded far away, his blue eyes listless, and I could feel him slipping away, could tell that I was failing as I tried to bring him back from whatever spiral he was about to go down.
    I reached for the bottle of whiskey – at least I could take that. But he grabbed my wrist, then took the bottle from me with his other hand and set it back down on the desk.
    “You should go,” he said.
    “What?”
    “You should leave, Adriana.”
    “Why would I leave?”
    “Because I’m…” He shook his head. “I’m fucked up. I don’t want you going down this road with me.”
    “Callum.” I closed my eyes and balled my hands together in fists at my sides. Part of me did consider just leaving, walking out the door and never coming back. My life had been nothing but complicated ever since I’d met him. But I couldn’t just leave him like this. I didn’t want to.
    I cared about him too much.
    I believed in him, believed he was a good person who was capable of loving me the way I wanted to be loved, and accepting that love in return.
    Maybe it made me naïve, but I’d seen glimpses of it inside of him, and I didn’t want to be the one to turn my back on him.
    “Callum,” I pleaded.
    “Adriana,” he said. “Go.”
    I searched desperately for the right words, feeling a crushing need to stop him. I imagined him tipping that bottle back, obliterating years of sobriety, getting drunk at work, risking his professional reputation.
    Do something, Adriana. You need to make him stop, you need to do something to get through