Chapter 9

T he cursed spirits were vengeful today, I guess, because I stepped out of my car in front of the complex and the car parked next to me suddenly blew something in the engine, and I clocked the guy locking himself out of his car checking out what it was while I was walking towards the entrance. I kept my gaze ahead, telling myself it was just a coincidence—that I was looking for bad luck around me, so I was seeing it everywhere—but admittedly, it had stuck in my head when Adam Garcia had told me my consciousness seemed misaligned and that it was going to cause disturbances around me.

I wasn't a spiritual person, but…

An older white man sloshed his coffee on his table in the café attached to the lobby when I stepped inside, and I heard a woman cursing at her phone in Spanish nearby as I headed for the elevator, and I just prayed I wasn't going to bring Cameron bad luck, too.

The tower was a new development, beautiful and modern, with a tall, glass-domed lobby warmly alive with chatter, and I pushed through the lobby with my heels clicking over tile, slipping past people, and I stepped into the elevator and hit 3, letting myself relax against the wall. I had a week with four different showings for Cameron, and if I managed to sell her on one, I'd be heading to the conference a winner. If I didn't?

Someone missed the elevator, the doors shutting right in front of them. I winced. I hadn't had time to catch the doors for them. At this rate, Cameron would wave to me and fall off the building.

Thinking about Cameron left heat blossoming through me. I'd told myself I was not going to wear the Heaven's Kiss set today—that I'd dress normally and not tempt myself. But I'd been getting ready before heading out here, and… well, one way or another, I was here, with the soft lace of the garter belt snug under my clothes. Putting them on had been intensely erotic, thinking about Cameron's hands having designed every inch of the lace… about her imagining me in them. I wondered if she'd still been thinking about it.

Or maybe she'd been too busy dealing with her husband. It should have felt salacious that I'd slept with a married woman, let alone our client, but… I couldn't find any regret in my system.

The elevator stopped with a chime, and the back door opened to the parking garage, with perfect timing—a car pulled around the corner, a simple gray sedan with tinted windows, unremarkable to the core, and it pulled to a stop at the end of the parking row. The door swung open, and the sight of Cameron stepping out left my stomach fluttering.

She'd dressed lighter today, wearing a baby blue dress shirt with straight-leg trousers, a few gold statement bangles on one wrist, high sandal heels. Simple and casually stylish, with one little catch—the tiny peek of red lace where her top button was open. Black would have been passable—just a nice bra underneath that showed a bit too much, overlookable. Red? Red was a whole different story. And it was written in a language only she and I knew.

"London," she said, her voice light as she started towards me, but tinged with an unmistakable warmth underneath—a husky sort of anticipation that left me buzzing. The look in her eyes answered all my earlier questions. She'd been thinking about me. And it was only clearer when her eyes flicked down my body, clearly wondering if I was wearing it. I blushed despite myself.

"Cameron," I said. "Good to see you made it. Traffic wasn't too bad?"

"Traffic? That's the small talk we're going with?" She laughed, relaxing in front of me, a flirty playfulness in her eyes. "Well, works for me. Quite clear, actually. I hit every green."

"Huh." That didn't usually happen when people were running to meet me. "Well, I'm glad I got here early too, then. Shall we check out the building? We'll go down and then up, and we can see the building lobby before we go to the penthouse. There's a café there, if you like Cuban food."

"Again—would I live in Miami if I didn't?"

"Touché." I turned back to the elevator, leading her inside with a swipe of a keycard. "Your regular order?"

"Getting to know me?"

I'd already gotten to know her plenty. Still, I couldn't help returning the playful look she gave me, punching in the button for the lobby. "It's a salesperson's job, isn't it?"

"I don't have a regular order," she said lightly. "Tell me yours."

"Medianoche and a Cubano. If they look like they know what they're doing, tostones."

"I'll take that, then."

Well, wasn't she easy to please?

Still, it felt like a veil—like all of this was just a game to her, and that look in her eyes only confirmed it. Slipping around me, keeping me at arm's length. Were we dancing together, or was she making me dance for her?

Anyway, there was never a bad Cuban sandwich, so at least I was safe there. The cooks weren't—I heard one of them drop a bottle of sauce on the floor, cursing, and it only took a quick glance to confirm it was while they were working on mine.

We sat close to the window, looking out over the lot in front surrounded by lush greenery, palm trees swaying against the clear blue sky, and Cameron closed her eyes as she bit into one of the tostones, letting out a long, happy sigh. I watched her, studying her as she ate, but she didn't give anything away. Eventually, I asked.

"You haven't been going out for food that often, have you?"

She opened her eyes, a surprised smile flickering over her face. "On the contrary, I do it all the time. Now, tell me what made you think I didn't?"

We were playing the game again. This time, though, it felt more like when we were in Club LIV together. I let the question sit in the air for a second before I said, "You like it too much."

"Ah. Giving myself away by enjoying things too much again."

"I don't think it's a bad thing."

She smiled wider. "Well, if you like it, then I'm happy."

I got a flutter in my stomach, and I pushed it down. "You didn't used to? Before you moved to your apartment?"

It was too loaded, too personal, but the apprehension that flared over her eyes faded into a distant smile, turning to the window as she bit into her sandwich. Once she'd chewed slowly and wiped away a bit of mustard from her lip, she said, "I've been enjoying this past year."

I studied her for a while, wondering how far I dared step. I knew where the line was—a client's personal life and their life as a client were inextricably entangled, but I always knew where the line was. It was all in the job. It was one thing to know that she wanted a luxurious space all to herself after everything with her husband. Caring beyond that? That was over the line.

But… she drew me in. Maybe it was because I'd met her as Amelie first. And this was where I really could not afford to step over the line—all of Queen Pearl and my future on the line—but I couldn't escape her magnetism.

And I asked the question that had been haunting me ever since LIV, even though I knew I shouldn't have. "Why was he calling you?"

She sighed, setting her sandwich back down. "You."

My heart jolted. "Me? I'm not that important."

"Please." She gave me a dry smile, wiping her fingers on her napkin before sipping her coffee. "Let's not talk about it here. A little too… open."

Cameron going upstairs with me not just for the tour of the space for sale, but to have a conversation this private, this loaded—at LIV, it had been a rush to let go of the reins, to let her lead me. Outside of it? Half of me felt the same way, and half rebelled at the danger of letting someone else decide how I felt.

Curiosity killed the cat. "I'll ask again once we're upstairs. If you decide not to, then… well, we never had this conversation, and then I'll look silly for asking about it, won't I?"

She smiled lightly. "Are you this considerate with all your clients?"

I took my time eating a tostone—they knew what they were doing at this café—before I caught her eye and smiled, provocative, almost flirtatious. "I thought I was the one who asked for affirmation that way."

She laughed, eyes sparkling, the shadow from earlier gone. "Expertly played. I walked right into it. Now, are you going to answer the question? Because maybe I am needy about affirmation."

"Of course, I'm considerate with all my clients," I said, taking just the second necessary for the disappointment to set in her expression before I finished. "So it's quite special that I give extra consideration to you. Who knows. I guess it's that preternatural charm of yours."

She licked her lips. So much for having control of the conversation. I turned into putty just seeing it. "Really," she said lightly, stopping to polish off the last of her sandwich. "We're not even started on our second tour, and you've already got me wrapped around your finger."

She would say that if she was leading me on. Of course—she'd also say that if this spark, this chemistry that had been explosive between us since we met at LIV was real, and she felt the same heart-pounding attraction that I did.

Who could say? Maybe she had me wrapped around her finger too.

We finished our meal and took our coffee upstairs, getting into the elevator and riding up to the top floor. Once again delighted by the penthouse elevator, Cameron was back to that starry-eyed look like a kid at a candy store, and when we came out to the dazzling space of the living room with floor-to-ceiling wraparound windows, she just about danced into the center of the room, turning slowly, taking it all in, laughing, eyes sparkling. I'd come prepared this time—I pulled the remote from my pocket and started up the sound system, a dreamy EDM number kicking in over the speakers, and Cameron gave me a wild-eyed smile.

"London," she said, her voice a playful you-shouldn't-have. "You can't make me fall in love this quickly. This is supposed to take longer. Hurry up and tell me the drawbacks."

I couldn't help myself. I put the remote back in my pocket and gave her a sidelong smile. "Well, let's see. I'm not a very good cook—spend a little too much money eating out—and I come as a set with my cat, who's convinced he rules the world."

She laughed, the sound bright and clear—just like at the other property, when she was like this, the veil lifted, and it wasn't Cameron playing her cards close to her chest anymore, just… radiantly and honestly her. It made my heart beat faster. It was getting harder and harder to dismiss my attraction as just physical. "You're adorable, London," she said, turning back to the room. "What's your cat's name?"

"Earl of Westlake. Earl for short."

"I think maybe his perception that he's ruling-class might originate from somewhere…"

"I plead not guilty."

She walked on ahead, along the length of windows, looking out over Miami Beach and the ocean spilling out below. "Tell me what we're looking at here."

"This one is just a bit under your budget at fifty-six. Another new development, it's a bit smaller than the first property, and isn't suited to hiring staff in the same way, but… well. If you like a rooftop party, this is the one."

She glanced back at me, a smile playing on her lips. "Do we get to start at the rooftop space this time?"

I put a hand on my hip. "And kill the anticipation? Not a chance. Let's start in what your office would look like here, shall we?"

"You're killing me," she laughed, but she stuck close to my side as we walked.

I couldn't get enough of her enthusiasm, her excitement about the place, leading her around and showing her the design elements, the views, the features. The bedroom with the seamless glass wall integration into the romantic vine-draped rooftop space got a breathless wow, and then a laugh as she twirled in the center of the room, taking it all in. A king-size four-poster with the most luxurious linens set against a classic theme of black and silver, it was made immaculately, and I was hoping we wouldn't mess it up, but Cameron grabbed my hand and tugged me into the bed with her. I fell with a gasp, fumbling as she laughed, until we ended up lying side-by-side breathing in the cool, clean air, watching clouds roll by over the city out the sweeping vista of the window.

Cameron fell into the kind of quiet where I knew she was about to say something, and—on some level, I just had to inwardly remark that I even knew the weight of all her pauses. She was an expressive woman. And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't attractive.

"It's not just you," she said. I was damn impressed I figured it out, turning back to where she lay next to me.

" You being what, then? He's upset with the women you…?"

A smile danced over her lips, but it was hollow. "He does not like that in the slightest. He hates the Amelie thing. But no, not that. He was calling because he'd found out I'd signed up with Queen Pearl."

I frowned. "And…?"

Her expression darkened, and she gestured to the window, the pool outside it rippling. "And this. He's furious I'm living like a monarch. Says we agreed to live like normal people no matter how big we got."

I wrinkled my nose. "As if he has a say in that after he's the one who called things off between you?"

She gave me an impossibly fond look, and it sent my thoughts reeling. "I need to keep you around just to validate me when I'm frustrated."

"Well—" I was suddenly awkwardly embarrassed, and I prayed I wasn't blushing. "It's your money. And if you're separated, what does it matter to him if you're living in a luxury penthouse suite right across from a Saudi oil billionaire?"

She pinched her lips, relaxing against the headboard, looking up to the soft concealed strip lighting at the top of the room. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm doing this."

"Doing what?"

She gestured to the room around us. "Buying a place like this. What use do I actually have for it?"

My stomach lurched. I couldn't afford to have her back out of this deal. None of us could. But I couldn't push back directly, or I'd break this… rapport. "From the sounds of things, he knows how to get you to question yourself."

She gave me a grateful smile. "You're not wrong. He always talked me out of wanting things. Not even wanton expenses—just a thirty-dollar bottle of wine from the grocery store, or getting the blue car instead of the silver one."

"He was insecure about you being wealthier than him, sounds like. Wanted to make sure he didn't get any reminders of it, reduce your money to just an arbitrary number."

"So maybe I'm just overcorrecting," she said. "I couldn't get a thirty-dollar bottle of wine, so I'm getting a sixty-million-dollar penthouse. I'd always been a spiteful, willful child. When my mother told me I couldn't have sweets after nine, I hid and stockpiled a secret trove of candies and cookies only I knew about, and I ate ten times as many sweets after nine as I would have if she hadn't told me not to. Maybe I'm just doing the same thing."

My chest ached. María and I needed this case to close—for Cameron to slap down sixty million on the table for us to take our cut. But this part of me that was growing impossibly attached to Cameron didn't want her to go through with something like this if she didn't really want it.

Finally, though, I rolled onto my side to face her, and I said, "Did you stop hoarding sweets after nine?"

"Mm-hm. When I got to high school, my mom stopped trying to enforce it, saying I was a big girl and I could make my own decisions. Then it wasn't as exciting to sneak cookies."

"Maybe this is the same," I said. "Maybe you don't really want this and it's just a way to show that you can. So, you buy it, enjoy it while you're here, let yourself have the things you want, and then if a time comes where you realize this place isn't actually bringing you happiness, you sell it and move onto what makes you happy next."

She arched her eyebrows at me, studying me, before she broke out in a radiant smile. "You're just saying that to close me on the deal."

It should have been. But I didn't feel like I'd actually been called out. I didn't want to think about why. I tossed my hair back. "Hey, the Earl has to eat."

She kissed me.

It happened in a rush, Cameron shifting forward and her lips finding mine, and embarrassingly, it didn't even enter my mind to fight it. I pressed my lips against hers with a soft moan, sinking against her, and she rolled me on top of her, lying on her back and caressing her hands down to my waistline, sneaking under my shirt. That perfume, the most erotic thing I'd ever known after everything I'd associated it with, flooded my senses, and the touch of her delicate fingers against my skin, her lips moving with mine…

She broke away from the kiss, a smile with a craving hunger in her eyes. "You're wearing it."

"I—" I felt my face prickle. Her fingers caressed the garter belt, slipping along the length of it, and my whole body responded, aching to show her—to stand up and bare myself to her, let her see everything she wanted to. Touch everything she wanted to.

But with the heated awareness came back the sense of reality, and I pulled back, breathing hard.

"Cameron—it's not safe to do this," I blurted. Disappointment flared over her eyes, but she didn't lose the smile.

"But that didn't stop you from wearing it."

"I…" I couldn't meet her eyes. "I told you I would…"

"As did I." She undid the top button of her shirt, and I lost my breath at the sight of her lacy red bra, subtle black and gold accents giving it an elegant, sultry touch. I swallowed hard.

"Cameron…"

"I know, " she sighed, buttoning her shirt back up, and I wanted desperately to undo it again—to strip those clothes away and see that full set on her. To see what she looked like in this bed, wearing that…

I looked away. "We're… here in a professional capacity, Cameron."

She bit her lip. "We are…"

"So—"

She sat up with me, tugging my shirt between the top two buttons, teasing and almost playful. "At least let me see."

It sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I closed my eyes with a sigh, nodding. I hadn't even meant to—my body responded automatically, and I watched in helpless need as she undid my shirt buttons, going slowly. My belt, too, undoing the button before she slipped my shirt off.

"Oh, London," she whispered, tracing her fingers reverently over my body, along the bra, the garter belt. The look in her eyes—I couldn't find any description for it, couldn't believe she was looking at me that way. She drank me in like I was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, like she couldn't believe I was real, and it was a feeling I could get drunk on. "Oh, London, " she repeated, breathless.

"I'm… sure you've seen plenty of women in these things."

"Not one of them has ever made me feel this." She bent in and kissed my chest in the dip of the bra, touching her tongue to my skin, and I arched against her, arousal shooting through me like electric current.

"Oh—fuck, Cameron—we can't do this—"

"I need to see the rest," she whispered, and I couldn't fight her as she dropped her hands to my waist, pulling my pants down. I let out a helpless whimper as she tugged them off, keenly aware of the size of the window and how exposed we were, but with the way Cameron looked at me… my core ached, and I could feel how wet the lace thong was getting already. It had already had my body humming with anticipation all day, and every time Cameron looked at me—

She turned us around, pinning me down in the bed under her, her eyes roaming me, ravaging me, and that hazy awareness hit me again—all she had to do was ask, and I would have sex with her, again, despite everything. There was nothing in the world I wouldn't have done right now.

She danced her fingertips over my body, leaving fireworks in her wake. "Every inch of you, London… I've never seen anyone so beautiful. I've never seen my designs look so beautiful. You are perfect. "

I bit my lip, hard, my head spinning. My eyes flicked down to the peek of red under her shirt, and she caught my gaze, giving me a wicked smile before she sat up straighter, unbuttoning her shirt.

I watched, awestruck, as she slipped her shirt off, and then her pants, too, kneeling over me in the most ludicrously sexual crimson lingerie set. I found my eyes dancing over every part of her, not even sure what to drink in first—the intricate ribbon patterning on the bra, the lacework on her garter belt, the thin lines of her panties. Somehow knowing that every line of it was her work elevated it—a walking artwork, a masterpiece of sexual energy.

"I love the way you look at me," she whispered.

"You… you're so gorgeous," I blurted, a desperate breath breaking free from my lips. She smiled wider.

"I would do anything right now for a chance to feel you," she whispered. "But… we've probably already pushed our luck enough."

I'd been the one arguing for it, telling her we needed to stop, so I shouldn't have felt so disappointed, so keenly like I'd lost something precious, to hear that. "I… I guess…"

She bit her lip. "I want to take a picture of you before that. Like this. In bed."

I nodded, helpless. "It's… clearly giving you some design inspirations."

She laughed, biting her lip. "If I had my way with you? Well… I'd probably actually get no designs done. I'd be too busy with your face."

I felt my face burn, but it wasn't like I would have said no.

I hated that I had to right now.