Chapter 15

L ousy weather today. I parked the car at the edge of the garage and watched out the window ahead of my spot where heavy rain gushed down in spurting gusts, palm trees bending in the wind, flashes of lightning in the distance lighting up the dreary gray sky at intervals. Taking a long breath, I gathered myself, gave myself the customary dream check of pressing my finger into my palm, and I stepped out of the car, into where the air was muggy and heavy and rain droplets splattered through the window and over the concrete, splashing up over my shoes.

I'd told María I liked the rain. Ruth, too. Even my ex. It was a lie—I hated rainy weather ever since I was little and my mom made me stay inside and do housework whenever it was raining—but I wanted to like it. Turned out no amount of saying it made rain feel any less depressing.

My footsteps echoed through the garage as I made my way towards the glass doors that led into the apartment complex, and I stopped at the sight of Cameron there by the wall, staring out the parking garage entrance into where visibility barely got across the street in the downpour. Her expression was miles away, and there was something… missing.

"Don't like the rain?" I said lightly, approaching her. She didn't look at me.

"Would I live in Miami if I didn't?"

"I mean, maybe. I can't stand it."

That got through to her—she gave me a quick smile, but her eyes still felt like they were looking through me. "And it hasn't driven you away?"

"There's things here I like more than I dislike the rain…"

She laughed, a hollow sound as she stepped away from the wall. "Flirting so soon, London?"

There was something different to the way she said it. I must have had a knack for reading Cameron, because it fell into place after a second, and a pang of guilt coiled in my chest. "You heard from him again, huh?"

Her expression tightened, and she turned back to the doors. "Let's go see this property, shall we?"

"In a minute." I stepped in front of her, turning to face her. "Are you safe?"

Her expression softened, and a bit of that sparkle came back into her eyes—dulled, but there. "I am. Physically, at least. I promise. Can we go see the property now? I can't stay at this one for too long. I have a meeting soon that I don't really want to have."

I sighed, weighing it out for a second before I turned back to the door. "Sure thing. But… you can tell me what's on your mind. If you ever want to."

"Hm. Just a salesperson's job, is it?"

"Something like that."

She followed me into the lobby as I gestured to the space around us, quieter and more modest compared to the sweeping spaces we'd been in before, although the green display at the center of the lobby was a gorgeous centerpiece. Cameron nodded along as I told her about the building's construction, but I could tell she wasn't listening. I could also tell she needed me to continue pretending like she was.

The ride up to the top floor was quick, and she stuck close to my side as we came out into the foyer—a clean apartment, modern, chic, with plenty of white and marble. It had a more comfortable feel than the others, a room with a strip of windows along one wall looking out in the direction of Miami at large, but the whites and golds still gave it an elegant sense of luxury. Cameron nodded appreciatively as I showed her through the living room and the office suite, smiled at the private gym space with a full-wall window, and she actually gave me a real smile when we got into the kitchen with its massive walk-in pantry.

"You've got a place like this on your radar? I'd thought you weren't much of a cook."

"Well." I gestured lazily over it all, mostly just wondering what to read into the fact that she'd remembered that offhand comment. "If I were ultra-rich, I'd probably just lounge in the living room while my attractive private chef works here on making me the best meal in the world."

"Shame I can't hire you as a private chef, or I'd be able to get the full experience."

I smiled wider. "You could. Your food would just largely be based around anything that comes out of a can."

She stepped into the walk-in pantry, nodding to the wide shelves with their built-in organizers and drawers. "Plenty of space for cans in here. I think you might be fine."

"Well, for the right price, a meal you could make yourself in fifteen minutes could be yours," I said, following her into the pantry. She turned on me with a glint in her eyes, backing me into the corner.

"And have the very attractive private chef to share it with?"

"That's not typically how it works when you hire a chef, but—"

"Plenty of room in here for me to pin the private chef against the wall, too."

I raised my eyebrows. "The hiring price would go down significantly if that were part of the package."

"Well." She backed me up further, coming in close enough I could smell her perfume, intoxicating, and I felt my breath coming shorter, shallower. "The deal's getting more and more tempting."

"Cameron…" As always, her name just slipped out—a reflex, as natural as breathing. Still, this time, it broke something, frustration flashing over her face as she turned away.

"Sorry." She put a hand to her forehead, sighing sharp, hard—the kind of sigh that was at no one but herself. I swallowed.

"Is… everything all right?"

"No. Yes. Sure." She sank back against the wall. "Is there a nice spot with a view where we won't get rained on? Because I could go for that right now."

Of course there was. I knew Cameron liked a view.

The bedroom in the place was all-out, sleek white with marble designs and subtle pink accents, and its own seating area at the full-wall windows looking out over the green space on the rooftop and the city beyond—not that we could see much of it in the driving rain. It made a dramatic image, though, rain pouring down over the window like a waterfall. It was only once we were sitting on the couch—a playful touch of white shag along with the soft pink legs on the coffee table dressing the space down a bit—that Cameron spoke, softly, leaning forwards with her elbows on her knees.

"This place is plenty luxurious too, turns out."

My stomach churned. I'd suggested this, but if Cameron bought this one? I had no idea how I'd explain it to María. "A bit more down-to-earth, maybe," I said, and she smiled lightly at me before she turned her gaze back to the window.

"Don't you have to sell me on the expensive one to make sure the company stays solvent?"

I paused, something catching in my throat. "Er… what?"

"I'd heard about something like that. How the company's in trouble."

I should have had a ready excuse, some slick wording to make it sound like everything was just fine. But I found I couldn't really twist the truth, not to Cameron, and no words came—an anxious silence. Cameron sighed.

"I'd hardly like to kill your career over my cold feet."

"You liking the place is important."

She turned on me, something razor-sharp there in her eyes. "Why did you suggest this, anyway? You can hardly tell me it's just a salesperson's job to sell a client on less."

"Well. Ensuring the long-term satisfaction of the client takes priority."

She sighed, turning back to the window. She was quiet for a long time where I ached for all the things I said wrong before she spoke. "The problem here," she said, her voice soft, "is that I like you quite a bit, London."

My heart missed a beat. I suppressed the feeling as best I could, but it was getting harder to do that. "I…" should be making a glib remark, but it's difficult right now. I swallowed, my hands feeling shaky as I said the harder part. "How do you mean?"

"I've enjoyed being Amelie. Getting to take home beautiful women, enjoy my time out of the spotlight, do whatever I want. But you… well." She hung her head. "It turns out I like when someone says my real name. When someone wears my designs for me and they know it's my design. It turns out I like when someone takes me on dates and spends time with me."

My head felt hot, dizzy, a thick sensation like hot wool settling between my ears. "I… thought we weren't acknowledging them as dates."

She laughed lightly. "I get tired of not saying what I mean." She sat back in the sofa, kicking one leg up over the other. "Or maybe it's that it's so obvious now that even he knows."

I winced, the magic that had been cast over the moment shattering like thin glass. "I—guess I probably should have figured. I said something I shouldn't have."

She gave me a sad smile. "So, he came around harassing you, too, did he?"

"Mm. He came into my office yesterday telling me to stop helping you find a place on such a high budget. And… then he started telling me in not-so-veiled terms not to get too close to you."

She pursed her lips. I cleared my throat.

"And I said something I shouldn't have."

"What did you say?"

I tugged at my collar. "He said not to do anything I'd regret. So I told him not to throw away anything he wants to keep."

She laughed. "Bet he loved that."

"He… didn't, as shocking as I'm sure that must be."

She hung her head. "He wasn't always like this, you know. I swear. Things were different, when we started…"

My chest ached, badly, like someone had grabbed it in two hands and twisted it around in the middle. I didn't want to think about Cameron falling in love with this man—flirtatious little touches, staring deep into one another's eyes, whispering declarations of love.

"He was the kindest person alive," she said, quietly. "Would never tell anyone what to do with their lives. Charitable. Always willing to be there, help out… a different person. I just… wonder…"

Her voice shuddered, and I couldn't help myself—I shifted closer, putting a hand on her lower back. "Take your time," I whispered, and she choked out a small sob, wiping it frustratedly away.

"Dammit. Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Hey." I caressed her back. "This is a safe place. You can cry here."

"Christ. I'm ruining my makeup." She wiped her eyes again, sniffling, before she took a long, shaky breath. "I wonder if it was this that changed him. Dealing with all the… wealth."

I frowned. "Cameron, it's not your fault he got petty and jealous."

"Not that. Just… wealth changes people. You take someone struggling to get by and give them a million dollars, come back in a year, and they're a different person. Sometimes for the better. Sometimes for the worse, but always different."

I pursed my lips, studying her, my heart pounding. I wasn't sure why it was. "I don't know if that's true," I said, finally, softly. She turned to me, eyebrows raised.

"Really?"

"Really. I think they'll change how they act, but I don't think it's going to change the person. It just… lets them show who they really are, I guess."

She pursed her lips tighter. "So, what? He was just hiding who he really was from me, for years?"

"I don't think he knew, either."

She softened, turning slowly back to the window. "Huh… I guess maybe when you put it like that."

"You two both had plenty of money, thanks to your success. He wasn't being generous and humble. He was just scared of it—scared of you. And fear—I think that does change a person."

She slumped forwards, hanging her head. "Am I?" she said, softly. "Scared of this. Changing. I know I've changed since then. Has it changed me the same way?"

I swallowed hard, and I watched her—quietly, carefully, studying her in profile for the longest time. Outside the window, streaks of lightning cut their way across a cloud-drenched sky, rain rippling furiously over the pool surface.

Finally, I spoke softly. "Do you like the person you are now?"

She shrugged, staring straight ahead, out the window. "Never really thought about that."

"So… think about it."

She chewed her lip.

"What kinds of things do you think about yourself? When it's just you and your mind."

Slowly, Cameron dropped her gaze to the floor. And slowly, she stood up, turning to me with a look of finality.

"I don't think what we're doing is safe, London."

My stomach lurched. I rose with her, my heart in my mouth. "How do you mean?"

She folded her arms, looking out the window. "You're the only person around me to ask me things like that. I like it too much. I like you too much. At this rate, I'll want to start calling them dates. And then it's trouble for everyone."

God, but if I didn't want that. It almost bowled me over with the intensity of the feeling—how raw the desire was, flying in the face of everything I was supposed to be feeling. I wanted to be her trouble. Wanted her to be mine. Wanted to damn what María would say, what her husband would say, fly the image of me on her arm for all the world and see what the gossip rags would run about it.

But she was right. With her husband wedging his way into things, it wasn't smart for either of us right now. Cameron Mercier was a married woman.

Turned out I was bad luck for her, too.

"So…" I turned to the window with her, pushing down the roiling in my stomach. "No more clandestine rendezvous."

She sighed, hard. "We're both being irresponsible. And we've known that from the beginning."

"Not that I haven't enjoyed it, but… this was definitely your idea."

She gave me a dry smirk. "And yours was to hit on my assistant, so, who's really the angel?"

I put a hand up. "Hey. Not saying I didn't make irresponsible decisions. Just that this irresponsible decision was you."

She closed her eyes, smiling distantly, turning back to the window. "I'll have you know I've… enjoyed our time together very much."

I swallowed the sick feeling in my throat. "Me too. And… for what it's worth…"

I trailed off, suddenly awkward. She cracked her eyelids, giving me a look. "Don't leave a girl in suspense," she said. I looked away.

"For what it's worth, I'd still make the bad decision."

"London." She sighed, a hand to her forehead. "For Christ's sake. Don't tempt me."

"Sorry."

"You are not."

"Admittedly—no."

She took my hand, and moving all in a blur, she pulled me into a kiss. I tumbled a little, lips pressed against hers, my heart soaring, and I caught myself on her—suddenly kissing her like I'd suffocate without her on my lips. The all-consuming awareness that it hadn't been just me—and then feeling it all slip away through my fingers.

It was for the best. But that didn't mean I wouldn't kiss Cameron like my life depended on it right now.

She pulled away, a distant light in her eyes, and she brushed a thumb over my cheek. "Let's see the rest of this place. I might just like it. We'll see, though."

I had to hope she wouldn't. I'd burn Queen Pearl to the ground for her if she asked. Compared to that, selling her a twelve-million property instead of a sixty-million was nothing.