Drew was more attentive toward me that night than he ever had been. His hand constantly rested on the small of my back, and he held my hand. I was sure that it was all for show, but nonetheless it did make me feel special for a little while.
I actually felt like I was envied by the women standing around watching as Drew waltzed me across the dance floor. I was flattered when he raised his eyebrows at my flawless elegant ballroom dancing.
I did what I was told to do. I stood by his side with my glass of wine and looked pretty.
I did notice a man in a wheelchair that constantly stared at us. He looked sickly and was being escorted by a much younger lady that I was sure was his nurse or caretaker. I turned to Drew, just in case the guy could read lips.
“Drew, why does that man keep staring at me?” I asked. “Who is he?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a tone that told me that he didn’t want me to know, or it was none of my business.
I let it go, but shortly after, the man was wheeled over to us. I had never seen Drew suck up to anyone before. He was kissing this man’s ass like nothing I had ever seen.
“This is my beautiful wife, Morgan,” he said, introducing me, but failed to disclose the man in the wheelchairs name.
He took my hand and ran his hand over my pink diamond. “I’m Randal Callaway,” he said, not letting go of my hand.
I felt uncomfortable and wondered about the name again. Our home said Callaway estates. The jewelry store said Callaway Jewels, and now his name was Callaway.
Maybe Drew really didn’t own any of it. Maybe he was a relative. Maybe he was just the CEO. I wished that I could ask Drew about the name, but knew that he would tell me that it didn’t concern me.
“Leave us, Drew,” the man said looking up, finally letting go of my hand.
“I am not sure that is such a good idea, sir. Morgan isn’t used to being around this many people. She’s a little uncomfortable,” Drew tried.
“Walk away, son,” the man demanded with a stern expression, and just like a little whipped pup, Drew retreated with his tail between his legs. I was in awe that somebody actually put the narcissist ass in his place.
“Sit with me,” the man said, taking my hand again and leading me to an elegant set of chairs in a corner.
I sat, and he held both my hands in his. I was confused and wanted to know who he was. I didn’t ask.
Drew was giving me a death stare, and I wasn’t about to say anything without being asked first.
“How do you like the estate?” he asked.
“I love it there.” I replied. I did love the estate. I just wished I didn’t have to share it with Drew. I wanted to ask him why his name was on the stone wall, so bad, but didn’t dare.
“Good. So you are happy?”
Fuck no…
“Very,” I lied.
“You have no idea how happy that makes me, Morgan,” he smiled. “Is there anything that you need?” he asked, and again I was confused as to why he cared. He acted as though he knew me or something.
“No, sir, Drew gives me more than I need,” I explained. I did have everything that I needed, minus the essential emotional care.
I mostly listened, and he talked, knowing that Drew was staring daggers at me. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Did he want me to refuse to talk to the man? I didn’t even know what his interest in me was, let alone who the hell he was. He gave me a card and explained that his cellphone number was on there and to call him if I ever needed anything.
I thanked him, and his caretaker wheeled him away.
Drew was angry, and I could tell. We left shortly after that. He tapped his foot nervously on the floorboard of the limousine.
“Drew, did I do something wrong?” I finally asked. He turned and angrily glared at me.
“You are joking, right?” he asked.
What the fuck…?
“I thought that I did everything that you asked me to do. What did I do?” I asked, and had a feeling that it had something to do with Mr. Callaway.
“What did he say to you?” He asked with an angry tone.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Not much of anything.
He admired my ring, asked me if I was happy, if I had everything that I needed, and he gave me his card and said that if I ever needed anything that I could call him anytime.
Who is he, Drew?”
Drew put his hand out, and I knew that he wanted the card. I unsnapped my little handbag and handed to him.
He wadded it up in his hand and tossed it to the floor. He held his hand out again, and I didn’t know what he wanted.
I didn’t have anything else. Did he want me to take his hand?
“What?” I asked.
“The rings,” he said.
Fucking dick head…