The Teacher's Billionaire (19 page)

“Most do, but not all.” Dylan accepted his own drink, then placed his arm around her shoulders. “So who do you think will win the game tonight, The Yankees or Tampa Bay?”

So far that evening she'd only spoken with her father briefly. They'd just started a conversation when someone had interrupted them insisting he needed to talk with him immediately. Callie hadn't minded too much. While she liked her father and did want to get to know him better, she'd come tonight because of Dylan. She'd tried to tell herself otherwise before coming, but it was true. Somewhere along the line she'd fallen head over heels in love with him, and coming tonight meant she could spend time with him.

Dylan leaned closer to her so he could whisper in her ear. They were seated alone. The table's other occupants hadn't yet been seated. “Are you doing okay?”

The concern in his voice touched her. While she wasn't fooled enough to think he loved her, Callie thought he did care about her. She squeezed his hand which rested on her thigh. “Fine. Just a little overwhelmed.”

“You're doing great.” He placed a feather light kiss on her check. “As soon as we can go, we will. Promise. I'd much rather have you all to myself.”

Callie saw the flash of light. Turning she caught a glimpse of a photographer before he moved on to another table. She hadn't expected anyone to take pictures of her tonight. Then again the photographer seemed to be taking pictures of everyone there. Obviously this event was an even bigger deal than she'd thought.

“Callie, I'd like to introduce you to Marty Phillips. He is Warren's campaign adviser.”

She'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of the photographer she hadn't noticed that someone started a conversation with Dylan.

The man extended his hand. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Taylor. I have heard a lot about you from Warren.”

Callie smiled and shook his hand. “It's nice to meet you too.” The man was handsome but he couldn't hold a candle to Dylan. Then again not many men could hold a candle to Dylan. And the man's eyes were so cold. The thought sounded a little silly to her, but it somehow described the eyes of the man who carefully studied her just then.

“If you'll excuse us, I need to speak with Dylan in private,” Marty said explaining his presence at their table.

Nodding Callie watched them walk away.
Hopefully they won't be gone long
. She felt silly sitting all by herself and wasn't comfortable enough to socialize with anyone else.

“Following in your mother's footsteps?” a voice asked softly so that only Callie would hear.

Groaning inwardly Callie turned to face her half-sister. So far that night she'd managed to avoid the woman.

Keeping her voice low she replied, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Sara sat down and leaned closer. “I know you're sleeping with Dylan. If you think it will last, you're wrong.” She paused for a moment as if waiting for some kind of response from Callie.

Don't take the bait.
“I need to use the ladies room.” Callie pushed back her chair and came to her feet.

Sara smirked. “Wait you'll see.”

Biting down on her tongue to keep herself from saying anything, Callie walked away. As quickly as possible she weaved her way through the ballroom. She'd noticed a sign for at least one restroom earlier when she'd first come in so she headed in that direction. A few minutes of privacy would be nice. Between the general stress of the evening and her brief conversation with Sara, her stamina was shot. Hopefully a few minutes alone would help revive her.

The ladies room was located just outside one of the hotels lounges which had been closed to the public for the evening. Callie was about to push open the door when she noticed Dylan and Marty Phillips seated inside the empty lounge.

Though they weren't that far away neither noticed her. For a moment she stood admiring Dylan. He always looked gorgeous, but tonight, in his tuxedo he looked magnificent. She didn't intend to eavesdrop, but when she heard her name Callie couldn't help but listen though.

“Warren has an interview with NBC next week. He wants to tell the world about Miss Taylor during it. Your mother and I are still trying to convince him to wait until after the election,” she heard Marty say.

This was news to her. Her father hadn't mentioned his intentions during their last conversation.

“He plans to talk it over with her first. See how she feels about it,” Marty continued.

This is wrong.
Callie knew she shouldn't be listening to a conversation she wasn't supposed to ever hear.
She should either go into the ladies room or return to the ballroom. But she couldn't. Her curiosity was too great.

“I see you took your job of keeping tabs on her to heart. Maybe you can convince her to hold off on the announcement too.”

Job?
The word rang in her ears. She took a step forward not wanting to miss any of the conversation. Callie no longer cared that she was eavesdropping.

“You've kept her happy and away from the media. I knew you were the best man for the job.”

The room seemed to spin and tilt. Callie gripped the wall for support. She watched as Dylan leaned forward.

“I didn't have much of a choice.”

Callie swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. She didn't want to believe what she'd just heard. Could everything be a lie? Just a game to keep tabs on her? A way to insure she was content so she wouldn't run to the media.

“You just better hope Warren doesn't find out.” Dylan sounded angry.

Marty laughed stiffly. “More like
we
better hope he doesn't find out. It might have been my idea, but you are in just as deep.”

I have to get out of here.
Struggling to hold back tears, Callie retraced her steps. She made it almost to the main foyer before realizing her purse with her money was still in the ballroom. In her rush to get away from Sara, she'd left it on the table. There was no way she'd get anywhere without money or a credit card.

Turning, she headed back towards the ballroom.
Come on, get the bag and go before he gets back.

The low murmur of voices and the tinkling of ice in fine crystal glasses greeted her. For a brief second she gazed at the scene. What a fool she'd been to think she belonged in this world. Taking a deep breath she crossed into the lion's den and made a bee line for her table. With her purse in hand Callie's only thought was to escape before Dylan or anyone else came looking for her. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on her side that night.

“There you are, Callie.” Elizabeth stopped next to her. “Warren is looking for you.”

Before realizing it, Callie wiped a tear from her cheek.

Elizabeth studied her for a moment, concern evident on her face. “Are you okay Callie? You look upset.” Elizabeth's eyes moved over Callie's face.

Did she know about her son's agreement with Marty? Did Sara and Jake know too? Was that how Sara knew they'd been intimate?

“I think I'm stating to get a migraine,” she replied trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for leaving. “I'm going to go back to Dylan's and rest.”

The older woman studied her for a moment longer, and Callie was sure Elizabeth knew she was lying. “I'll let Warren know where you went. Dylan should have something you can take. He gets migraines sometimes too.”

Callie mumbled some kind of reply and bolted from the ballroom. It seemed to take the bell hop forever to flag down a taxi. But eventually she slide into the backseat of one and gave the driver Dylan's address.

Her first instinct was to go straight to Penn station. Catch the first train home. However, the haze cleared in her head long enough to realize she couldn't ride the train in an evening gown.

Thankfully Dylan had given her a key earlier when he'd been forced to go into the office so she could go out and sight see alone. Out of habit she threw the key into her purse before they left that night.

After entering the penthouse Callie rushed to change into shorts and a tank top. Then she stuffed the rest of her belongings into her overnight bag. Finally she jotted two words on a piece of paper.
Went home.

Not that he'll care.

Without a backward glance, Callie turned off the lights and closed the door behind her.

Dylan wanted to get away from this conversation and Marty Phillips. The longer he sat there the more uncomfortable he became. Yes, he'd agreed to keep an eye on Callie but when they they were together his agreement with Phillips was the farthest thing from his mind. Still he felt guilty because he'd gone along with it at all.

It's time to end this conversation.
Dylan pushed back his chair. “Listen Phillips I'll talk with Callie, but I'm not going to force her. She's a grown woman who makes her own decisions. If she wants to give Warren the green light, that's up to her.”

“Do what you can.”

Dylan left the other man and their conversation behind. He had only one goal in mind. Finding Callie and seeing if she wanted to leave. Earlier he'd caught a glimpse of a sapphire gown, and he'd thought she had come looking for him. When she hadn't materialized, he assumed it was someone else.

When she wasn't at their table he walked the perimeter of the ballroom. Occasionally someone would stop him. In no mood for small talk, he kept all his conversations short.

Bloody hell
, w
here is she?
He'd walked all the way around the room. Yet he hadn't seen her. She wasn't with Warren. From where Dylan stood he could see his step father talking to the mayor.

She has to be here somewhere. She wouldn't leave.

With a fierce frown Dylan plowed through the crowd not even stopping when someone called out to him. His mother sat at her table chatting with Senator Greenwood's wife. Dylan stopped at their table. “Excuse me ladies. Have you seen Callie recently?”

His mother's eyebrows went up in surprise. “She didn't tell you she was leaving?”

“She left?”

Nodding his mother continued. “About fifteen minutes ago. She said she was getting a migraine. I assumed you went with her.”

Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to believe Callie was back at his place resting. She wasn't the type to lie. Maybe she hadn't wanted to disturb him so she decided to leave a message with his mom knowing that he would come looking for her.

Yet something told him it wasn't true. She hadn't left because of a migraine. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Why don't you go and check on her,” his mother suggested sounding concerned. “I'll let Warren know where you went.”

Dylan wasn't sure if she was concerned about Callie or him. Regardless of which one, he didn't need to hear her suggestion twice. “I plan on it.”

All the lights were off and the apartment was silent. Not a good sign. Still Dylan told himself not to worry. If she did have a migraine, it would make sense that she was lying down in the dark. Whenever a migraine hit him he preferred his room to be pitch black.

Despite the urge to fling open his bedroom door and flip on the light, Dylan pushed the door open slowly. The light from the hallway provided enough illumination for him to see that his bed was empty and the gown she'd been wearing was laid neatly across it.

Confused he yanked off his tie and pulled out his cell phone. He was about to call her when he saw the note.

What the . . .?

He read the note again. The two words stared back at him. Taunting him.

Why?

Dylan dialed her number. He knew she had her cell phone with her. But it just rang before going to voice mail.

Damn why isn't she answering?
He replayed the night over in his mind. They'd been having a good time. At least he thought they were. Then Phillips asked to speak with him. Whatever sent her running must have happened after that.

Dylan didn't bother wasting time to change. Tossing his tuxedo jacket and tie on the bed, he grabbed his car keys and headed back out. An urgency like none he'd ever experienced before rode him hard. There was no time to waste. She had at least a forty-five minute head start and the train didn't have to worry about traffic slowing it down. In record time he pulled out of the parking garage, the same questions taunting him. What could be so awful that she'd take off without a single word to him. It just didn't make since. They'd been having a great weekend.

Pressing re-dial he tried her cell phone again. Like his previous attempt it rang several times before going to voice mail.

Bloody hell. He threw his phone onto the passenger seat. Was it possible she just didn't have any cell service on the train? Maybe she wasn't really avoiding his calls, he reasoned navigating the busy New York City street.
Right and pigs can fly.