Callan narrowed his eyes at her, trying to wrap his head around where he had seen her before. Her curly red-brown hair was familiar, but he couldn't process who she was and where he had seen her.
"What do you want?" He asked, his eyes darting between the brunette and Orla who had stopped eating and was gaping at the intruder who didn't even bother to acknowledge her presence, but she kept her cool, eager to know what she wanted from her husband.
"Callan, I have been looking everywhere for you since that night." She placed her hands on her jaw and crossed her long straight legs.
It didn't take too long for Orla to detect that she was a model, an A-list model. She sure looked like one, with her charisma, aura and how she carried herself with temerity.
Orla didn't feel less of herself. Over the months, she had learned to value herself. Callan met other people before he met her, yet he chose her. And that gave her more confidence to pull through, but this brunette…
Callan had revived his memory. She was the model he slept with when he went to Texas. She was so skilled on the bed and blew his brains, switching positions for him, but it was just that night.
He made it clear to her that it was just a one-night thing and no strings attached. He fucked her but he didn't even know her name or what she did. He didn't care, he never did.
"I can see that you are with someone else." She finally acknowledged Orla, but her scornful glares weren't too cool. "She wouldn't do it better than I did for you." Orla was pushed to talk, but she didn't find the words to say. "And she looks so young, Callan. She wouldn't do the things I did with you. I gave my things to my assistant and I have cancelled my appointment with the business clients I came here to see immediately I sighted you from over there." She pointed to the far end of the restaurant where her assistant was seated with her eyes glued to her phone screen. "You liked it so much the last time and I am sure that you will love it better now. Should we get a room, bad boy?"
"I didn't get your name that day, can you remind me?" Callan asked her and Orla was feeling uneasy where she sat.
She clenched her fist, and gripped the knife, targeting it at the brunette who disrupted her conversation with her husband.
"Jess, that's my name. I told you that day. Oh, you forgot." The brunette feigned a smile, placing her hand on her chest to express hurt.
"Jess," Callan smiled, staring at Orla. "I want you to meet Orla, my pretty wife." He threw his hand towards Orla's direction and she smiled excitedly. "She's pretty, isn't she?" He winked at Jess.
Jess drooped her head in mortification. She peered over her shoulder to take a glance at Orla and back at Callan.
"We were having an important conversation before you shot your dirty ass on that damn chair. I want you out of here right now and don't ever let this repeat itself." He said sternly, eyes on a scared Jess.
"Callan," Jess bowed apologetically to him, standing on her feet, she clutched her long dress and turned to the other side but Callan called her back and she stopped in her tracks.
"Do not ever come this close to me and my wife again. The next time you try this with me, I won't spare you." He looked at Orla and took her hand. "Do you need an apology from her?"
Orla shook her head. She wanted nothing more than for Jess to leave them alone.
When Jess left, she looked at Callan for a very long time and when he finally stared back at her, she asked. "Have you always been a bad boy?"
Callan chuckled, surprised she wasn't mad at him for the stunt Jess just pulled "Have I always been a bad boy?" He repeated and she shook her head in response.
He didn't know what to respond with, but he had been more than a bad boy. He'd been nasty, and done too many bad things that he never really talked about and now that Orla was asking, he wanted to respond to her without a lie.
"Have you?" She smiled, softly melting his heart.
"What kind of bad do you mean?" He needed to be clear before spilling the words.
After careful thought, she looked at him and said, "Jess called you a bad boy. So, I mean the kind of 'bad' she talked about."
He smiled, he understood the question better now.
"First it was about the kiss and now, you are asking if I am a bad boy. What do you want, Orla?" His husky voice slammed her and very quickly, her panties became damp and she felt a strange sensation within her body. Her legs were almost twitching.
"The effects of the kiss and to know the kind of person that you were to her." She said sharply.
"The kind of person I was to her doesn't matter anymore, it was just a one-night thing and it wouldn't repeat itself." He stated clearly, digging into the desserts that filled one of the fancy plates. "It was long before I met you, Orla. You don't have to find out."
"What if I find out how bad you were to her." Orla didn't give up. She bit her lips, her needs stronger than her tiny frame. She needed Callan and she'd have him even though she'd beg for it. "You just called me your wife. I shouldn't nag this much to get my husband's attention, do I?"
"Let's go home." Callan suddenly dropped the cutleries in his hands.
"Callan, I was just…"
"Now," he cut her off.
He got on his feet and Orla trotted behind like a chick in search of its mother. She didn't know what awaited her at home, but the countenance on Callan's face didn't showcase anger.
It was something more, something like the one she wore; needy, hungry for her, and lust.
She held onto the tiniest bit of hope she could muster as they walked towards the car park.
Her heart banged against her chest. Maybe it was finally the time she'd been waiting for all her life.