The sigh Callum let out was no match for the swelling sounds of whispers and gossip going through the museum. Theodorick stumbled into the museum, grumbling more nonsense to himself. His mother started to get up out of her chair, but his father stopped her with a wave of his hand. 

Callum stayed sitting at the table, next to Beck, eating his food. He did not grace the Hawthorne heir with a glance in that direction, because he had learned not to feed the beast. 

“Damn, that guy hates you. Do you even know why?” Beck whispered, his eyes slipping to look in Theo’s direction. He was fumbling badly, struggling to make it over to the table. And do—whatever it was he planned to do. Probably shout something in Callum’s face again. 

Callum sighed, taking another bite. “If I had to guess, it's simply my pedigree.” 

Security seemed to be dragging their feet, not sure if they should add to the scandal by dragging Theo out. But he was clearly too inebriated to be there. The Hawthorne heir finally made it over to Callum, swaying and not looking exactly straight. “You—you knew about this—” he hiccuped. 

Callum sighed, taking another bite and carefully laying his fork down on the table. He could feel his father’s eyes on him, the pressure of the Bruin influence hanging over Callum like a noose. He had to remain perfectly composed, as always. One misstep could ruin everything. “I assure you, I have no idea what you're talking about.” Callum kept his voice cool and even. 

Theo raised his hand, sloppy and somehow both too quick and too slow. “Don't play stupid, Bruin!” His anger swelled, and his voice echoed in the museum. 

“Theodorick!” Mrs. Hawthorne hissed, staying in her spot at her table. She quickly put on a smile after, smiling around the room with an awkward laugh like everything was fine and her son wasn't on a drunken rampage. 

The Hawthorne heir did not seem bothered in the slightest by his mother’s warning. He stumbled even though he was standing in place. “You knew. I know that you knew.” He mumbles, more to himself than to Callum. 

“I assure you, I don't know what you're talking about.” Callum, again, kept his voice even and calm. He wasn't going to let Theo under his skin. 

Theo suddenly raised his fists. “You know exactly what I'm talking about! There's only one way to solve this—alpha versus alpha.” 

Callum let out a sigh so heavy, the people at the table with him gasped in surprise at its weight. “I’m not going to fight you, Hawthorne.” That was the most emotion he showed in the whole interaction, his annoyance finally getting to his face. 

Theo clicked his tongue. “Don't be such a coward,” he spat, the venom in his voice obvious. Whatever it was he was mad about, he was clearly mad. 

“Don't be such an embarrassment, and I wouldn't have to be,” Callum responded coolly. 

The gasps of shock from around the museum pierced through the air. Callum could practically hear the crack in Theo's forehead as his anger boiled to an all-time high. Theo let out a yell and started to throw a punch in Callum's direction. 

He was drunk, and Callum did not partake in drinking, so he had every intention to just dodge it easily. But the impact never came, and Callum looked up just in time to see Adrian holding Theodorick’s fist. 

Adrian’s voice was like a chill through the whole museum. “I think you've had more than enough. You should get some rest before this gets ugly.” 

“You dick! Stay out of this! What are you, anyway, the help? Who do you think you are!” Theo pulled his fist away—albeit sloppily. He growled and tried to push Adrian out of the way, but he didn't even make an impact. He scoffed. “Letting a beta fight your battles for you, Bruin? Can't say I'm surprised.” 

“Theodorick!” His mother shouted, slamming her napkin down on the table and finally standing up. His father moved next, grabbing his son and starting to pull him away. It took security, too, but eventually, they got the Hawthorne heir out of the room. 

Adrian took a breath, clearly trying to get himself under control as well. But it wasn't fast enough to hide his scent from Callum, who caught a whiff of a summer breeze, beaches and sand, the ocean at midnight. Callum took a moment to breathe in it, bask in how it felt like it hugged him. 

He knew he couldn't have it. 

He wanted it anyway. 

Adrian turned to look at Callum. “You alright?” He asked, and his voice was like sugar. 

Callum scoffed, the room bursting back into motion in an instant. “I don't need you to fight my battles for me. He was drunk, and I'm an alpha. I could have taken him down.” 

Adrian’s expression soured, and he clicked his tongue and looked away just as security finally showed their faces. Adrian chastised them for taking so long to step in, and they apologized but said they needed a statement from them. 

The room was bustling with whispers and theories. Callum tried not to pay it any mind. He was sure whatever it was Theodorick Hawthorne was so upset about would present itself soon, in the form of his father. Raphael rarely told Callum what he was up to, but everyone assumed they worked together like father and son. 

If only it were so simple. 

A tapping on the microphone got everyone’s attention, and Callum turned to see Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne standing up at the podium, looking awkward and trying to hide it. “Thank you all so much for coming out to the grand opening tonight. Although I'm sure many of you didn't expect dinner and a show,” Mrs. Hawthorne joked, to giggles and laughter from the crowd. 

Adrian went back to his work, his presence gone as fast as it came. He had huffed at Callum indignantly when he left, making his discomfort known. But it wasn't like Callum could do anything else about it. He had to put on the persona, even if it was Adrian. His Mister.A. 

The formalities droned on after that. They introduced the exhibit and some of the artists that would be showcased from their collection. Of course, their son was heavily featured, but there were other big names going in that caught the attention of others present. And that was the goal, after all. To catch attention. 

Callum found himself tuning it all out. Beckham had checked in on him, and he brushed his friend off with mostly just a grunt. Theodorick’s voice was playing in his head, the words and force behind them. Theo was always one for a spectacle, but he wasn't typically one to drink like that. Callum didn't know what it was his father had done, but clearly, it was enough to upset the Hawthorne heir to that extent. 

The speeches continued—mostly just the Hawthornes peacocking and showing off their vast fortune. They were a mid-tier family as far as wealth among the elites went, but that didn't mean they didn't have a disgusting amount of riches to their name. Not that Callum was one to talk, given his own name and what his father possessed. 

Suddenly, Raphael Bruin stood from his seat, clapping. This signaled to the other families that they should start clapping as well, following everything the head of the Bruin family did. Callum clapped as well, because everyone else was. Mrs. Hawthorn looked around with an awkward smile, bowing a little and thanking people for their enthusiasm. 

Raphael made his way over to the mic, saying something covertly to Mr. Hawthorne that made him pale. He took the mic, the Hawthornes standing to the side. The clapping continued until Raphael raised a hand to silence everyone. 

Callum did not know his father was slated to speak at the event. 

“Thank you all for coming tonight. I believe that the Hawthornes here are showing some amazing initiative, showcasing and promoting the modern artist, wouldn't all of you agree?” The clapping swelled again, filling the room for a few moments before it died down. “I, for one, believe that they are such an inspiration. Which is why I, personally, have pledged to donate $10 million to this very institution, to promote the growth of modern, contemporary artists of all ages! All in part of a new program to get art back into our schools!”

The clapping swells again, much louder than it had been previously when the Hawthornes were speaking. Some even got out of their seats, yelling their praises to the ceiling. All of the attention was effectively off of the Hawthornes, who had faded into the background of the podium, and on his father. Raphael smiled, slicking back some of his greying hair from his face and back into submission. “The head of this new initiative will, of course, be my own son: Callum Bruin, who has loved art since he was a boy.” 

Callum blinked, working to keep the surprise off his face. This was the first he was hearing of it—and his supposed interest in art—but he knew a cue to stand and wave when he heard one, so that was what he did. Knowing his father, they would hire an “assistant” to do all of the real work, and Callum wouldn't actually be that involved at all. 

And, knowing Theodorick, this was probably what inspired his little outburst. The Galla was supposed to be for him and his family, and once again, the Bruins had upstaged everyone. But it didn't matter to Callum, because it was just another reminder. A reminder of his place, and what was at stake if he let anything slip. His eyes drifted back over to where Adrian was working with the other caterers. 

The game he was playing with Adrian was dangerous, and he knew that. He knew he needed to call it off and pretend it never happened. But he didn't want to. He liked being Bently, and he liked having a Mister.A at his side.