The wrong man

Calliope had taken a breath when her mother left the world. Two years old, when her father asked Jane to never bring her before him. Five years old, when Jane took the role of her mother, father and teacher. Ten years old, when they started calling her cursed. 

Perhaps, she really was cursed and her eyes were the proof one might need. 

Perhaps, she was cursed and that's why the historical building of her household crumbled when she had entered it for the first time, not because it was old and not renovated for a long time. 

She had to be cursed and so the crops of farmers of Orin were destroyed, but because the cloud had burst and it had rained for two weeks non-stop.  

She was so cursed that her father died as soon as he married her off to Orlando and soon after he left the world too. 

And now, she absolutely believed the not so-called rumours claiming her to be a cursed woman. What was the exact word? 

The Cursed duchess. 

Too bad, she has long passed on her title to her lawful son. 

Now one might ask what causes her to believe the rumours? 

Apparently, Calliope left her shelter after more than a year to attend a charity event that the church which had given her shelter had organised and requested that she attend. 

And Calliope Wilding hadn't learned not to repay the favour. 

Since the morning, it had been raining heavily, not indicating any possibility to stop. She had given her words to Father Francis that she would be there and so come what may, she wouldn't stop until she reached the church. 

Heavy-hearted, she came with an umbrella but she had overestimated its strength and it gave away before she could even reach halfway. 

A black car appeared, staining her already wet clothes and she was left with nothing but the overwhelming bitterness at the muddy water that dared to stop the pathway of a pathetic woman like her. 

The car slowed down for a moment and she gazed at a man who was looking out of the window,  seemingly wanting to say something. Perhaps, to apologise or compensate her. But then he did something she wasn't surprised to see, he drove away. Well, they all did, at one point or other. 

Calliope suddenly smiled, droplets of rain falling on her delicate face. 

It was her cue. To go back. She no longer belonged to the same world she once did. 

She wasn't Calliope Wilding, the duchess of Orin but Calli, a vulnerable woman taking shelter with a church. 

And so she went back. She wouldn't have come back if not for that desperate cry of help. Father Francis once again requested her to come and see a man willing to donate a few million if he met the artist who created the painting sold at a high price in the fundraising event. 

Meaning her. Calli. 

She noticed the guy -no- a man dressed in a several thousand dollar worth black suit. Fitting his body as if he was made for this suit. She might not have noticed him if his gaze wasn't so heavy and...intense. Or if he wasn't the same man who had splashed muddy water on her clothes. 

She could forget anyone but the people who wronged her. 

Suddenly, she couldn't bring herself to forgive him. Such a gorgeous man could have such a tough heart, she hadn't anticipated. 

Thus, she slammed the door on his face and left Maxwell Russo's room. If she had to beg forgiveness from Father Francis, she would but she wouldn't entertain an arrogant privileged man like him. She had enough of them already. 

Shivering, she wrapped her wet arms around her chest and stood at the corner of the porch, waiting for the rain to stop so she could run back to her shelter. 

They say everyone loves winters unless and until you are the one withstanding the chilliness of winter. Who doesn't like winters cooped up in a warm blanket and the warmth of the heater? Admiring, if they withstand the cruel torture it would inflict. 

Then again, winters have yet to come and she was already shivering. Already falling on her knees, failing to withstand the cruel torture it had yet to inflict. 

Leaning against the wall of the porch, she wondered what Jane or Amadeo would be doing right now? She hadn't seen them for more than a year now. Wondering if they were approached by the people of the Prime monster she had killed or the law authorities? If they cursed her too for endangering their lives? 

A gust of wind blew her hair with it, making her shudder in the cold,  seeking warmth by rubbing her hand against her warm chest. 

She felt something warm and scented fall on her shoulder the next second. Gazing up, she saw the man from before staring at her with a smile tugging on his face. 

My my. What a beautiful pair of dark eyes. Capable of drowning any pure maiden. 

Too bad, she wasn't considered one. 

She blinked her eyes as she couldn't understand what he was doing there. 

"This is me apologizing, Cara Mia," Callum said, not averting his gaze off her beautiful face. 

[Mia Cara: My dear]

"Gracie," Calliope whispered. 

"Would you let me buy your other paintings?" He surprised her by asking the next question. 

"No," Calliope shook her head. 

"I liked the one I bought in the auction. It was beautiful. Extremely so," Callum said, attempting to make her understand his point. "I felt myself pulled into the black and white world you have created. Nobody in the room filled with people but only I could see her cry for help. I could read her eyes the way only her beloved was supposed to do."  

Calliope felt restless under his gaze. She felt something heavy placed on her heart as he deciphered the essence of painting when no one could. 

"You were not supposed to decipher that," Calliope had said before she ran away from him in the heavy rain. 

"You are the wrong man," He could read it clearly written in her eyes. 

"I intend to be the only man for you," Callum murmured to himself. 

....

Author Note: It might not be slow burn from Calliope's side, it seems. XD.

Readers help me win this WPC to get good exposure 💙