Seated on the family’s private plane two hours later, Dylan stretched his legs out and tried to read the spreadsheets in front of him. Though his sudden announcement that he needed to return to the city immediately disappointed his mother, Warren hadn’t seemed to think it odd when he’d said some business issues had come up. Warren knew all too well what it was like to run Sherbrooke Enterprises. Rather, Warren thanked him for keeping Callie company, promised to have someone drive his car back to New York for him, and told him they’d talk soon.
While he did feel guilty about lying, Dylan knew getting back to his life was the best thing for him. Once he was back in his Park Avenue penthouse, Callie Taylor would disappear from his mind.
Which is exactly what I need her to do. Getting involved with her was out of the question for so many reasons. First, she was Warren’s daughter; there was no denying that even if his mother still thought a paternity test should be done. Secondly, she was a sweet and genuinely good person, or at least she seemed to be. She’s the type of woman who expects a serious relationship, he thought to himself, something that might lead to marriage and children. Neither of those two things were in his future plans. Ever.
“Get to work, Talbot,” Dylan chastised himself, focusing once again on the pages in front of him. “I have no reason to feel guilty about leaving. I did nothing wrong.”
Mere minutes after the plane landed, Dylan’s cell rang. Checking the phone’s caller ID, he saw the call was from Marty Phillips, Warren’s campaign advisor.
“What can I do for you, Phillips?” Dylan said in lieu of a greeting.
Not a man to beat around the bush, Phillips didn’t waste any time with idle chatter. “Curious about how things were going this weekend with Miss Taylor. I know Warren arrived in Newport late,” Marty said in his thick Southern drawl.
Dylan gathered up his files and shoved them back into his leather briefcase. “Everything seemed to be going well when I left.”
“Good, good. Tell me, what do you think of this woman? Do you think we have anything to worry about?”
Dylan knew Marty worried Callie would go to the media before Warren did. When it came to the media, Marty believed it was imperative that you were proactive whenever a possible crisis arose. It was much easier to control the media’s spin on things that way.
“She’s not that type of person. Miss Taylor isn’t looking to gain anything.” Dylan intentionally didn’t use her first name.
Marty didn’t immediately reply. “I hope you’re right. Still, I think it would be best to keep an eye on her just in case. Stay on top of things. I know someone who would be discreet.”
Though he’d only known her a short time, he somehow knew to his core that she wasn’t a threat. Convincing Marty of this was another matter though. “It’s not necessary to hire anyone.” The idea of some stranger following Callie and invading her privacy sent a cold chill down his spine.
“Then you’ll keep tabs on her?” Marty asked. “That would probably be simpler anyway. She already knows you and might not question your sudden interest in being around.” Marty paused as if waiting for Dylan to answer him. When he didn’t get an immediate response, he continued on. “Your mother agrees with me on this. I spoke with her yesterday. She believes it would be a good idea to keep an eye on Miss Taylor for a little while at least. If you cannot do it, just say the word. I’ll get someone who can.”
For a minute, Dylan considered the absurdity of the situation. Basically, they wanted him to spy on a perfectly innocent woman. As if he didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. He didn’t doubt Marty would find someone else to complete the task if he didn’t do it himself. If Marty Phillips was anything, it was resourceful.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled, already knowing he was going to regret his decision. “I’ll take care of it.”