Fake It
Page 6
“Would you like to watch one of them after dinner in the theater?”
My eyes stretch wide. “You have a theater?”
He nods as a smug smile spreads across his face. “I do.”
I smile, giddy and excited. He may be an arrogant douche, but he’s playing nice and I’m not about to pass up the perks that come with this arrangement. “I’d love to!”
After dinner, Cameron leads me up to his room. I’m a little confused about why we’re in his bedroom, but I’m completely overwhelmed by the vast interior. There is a massive bed and several doorways to what I assume are closets and the bathroom, but then he opens one and leads me into a dark room. Soft lights flicker on and there are several rows of comfy-looking reclining chairs sitting in front of a wall-sized screen.
“Have a seat. I’ll start the movie and grab us some snacks. Any must-haves?”
I plop down and pull the blanket off the back. “Cherry Coke, buttery popcorn, and Red Vines?”
He smiles and nods before sliding his hands into his pockets. “Coming right up.” He leaves me alone, and I’m speechless. Who the hell actually keeps all that on hand just for a movie night?
He’s so different from how I thought he’d be. Since he’s brought me into his home, he’s been kind and gracious, not spoiled and entitled. Sure, he’s got that cocky grin, but I probably would too if I had built this kind of life for myself.
I think El would be surprised to know this side of him. She’s only ever heard of his softer side from Griffin. It makes me wonder more about Griffin and their friendship. Have they known each other long? Did they grow up together? Does he know the reason Cameron pushes everyone away? Finding out about his family makes my heart hurt for him in ways I didn’t think possible.
Before, when we had only met at our business dinner, I thought he’d be cold and mean. I thought he was the type of man who used women, and I guess, maybe he is. But now I know why, and it makes me want to help him—to show him he doesn’t need to be this way, and that he could really find someone to be his actual fiancée if he’d stop pushing them away.
And like that, my mind is made up. While I’m not the woman Cameron needs, I will make him see what he’s worth, make him understand he can have it all, and hopefully with any luck, help him repair the relationship he has with his family.
Moments later, the room darkens and the screen lights up. Cameron comes back into the room—arms loaded down with all of our snacks. He hands me my Cherry Coke, a big bowl of popcorn that’s glistening with butter, and several packages of candy.
“I know your only request was Red Vines, but I like to have a little variety. I have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I always have an ungodly amount of candy on hand.” He sits in the reclining chair next to me and makes himself comfortable as he flashes me a toothy, boyish grin.
“Which movie did you pick?” I ask, tossing a few pieces of popcorn into my mouth.
“You’ll see,” he says around a smile as he lifts a remote and clicks a button.
The room fills with sound and my eyes leap up to the screen in time to see the words Fried Green Tomatoes.
I giggle. “I can’t believe you have this movie. It’s so old, most people don’t even know what I’m talking about. And in my experience, most dudes aren’t jumping at the chance to watch an emotional chick flick.”
He gives a little shrug as he looks over at me, “It’s one of my favorites too.”
A small tingle runs through my body and it feels like there’s an electric current bouncing between us. It makes my stomach tighten with anticipation and confusion. I’m not supposed to have these feelings about him. He’s supposed to repulse me—this man who goes through women like water and hires one to make him look like a “family man.”
But there’s something I can’t put my finger on. It’s not the luxury he’s exposed me to or his good looks. It’s little things like the way he smiles at me and the way his eyes darken. It’s like I’m seeing the real him for the first time—the person he hides away from everyone else—like he’s letting his guard down just a little with me, and I like it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CAMERON
I find myself watching her more than the movie. I’ve seen this movie a thousand times. It’s one of my favorites…yeah, yeah, I know that’s lame for a dude to admit, but I guess I have a soft spot in me somewhere. But watching her watching it is like experiencing it for the first time. I can’t help but smile when she laughs, and I love how giggling causes wrinkles to form across her nose. When her eyes tear up and she gently wipes at her nose, it feels like my heart skips a beat. I don’t even really know this woman, but it hurts to see her sad.
My body tingles as a need to make her feel better takes over. My eyes drop to her full, plump lips as her tongue darts out to lick some leftover salt from the popcorn. The butter has left them glistening, and I can’t help but imagine nipping one of them and then slipping my tongue between them.
I grip the arms of my chair to hold myself back. This is business, I remind myself. She isn’t a friend. She isn’t a girlfriend. She’s an employee, and that’s how I should treat her. I need to keep my distance. I’m not the kind of man she needs or wants. I’m nothing more than a means to an end for her. I’m a giant dollar sign that promises to pull her out of her misery. She could never look at me and see anything more, and even if she did, I’d do nothing but hurt her. I don’t know the first thing about relationships.
I tell myself that what I’m feeling is nothing more than confusion. I’m not used to spending this much time with a woman. Usually, I find one in a club, rock her world, then leave her behind satisfied. Just the fact that I’m spending this much time with Sam is confusing my body. But I know I have to keep it straight in my mind.
When the credits begin to roll, I turn off the movie and look over at her. She’s wearing a sad smile as she turns to me. She reaches out and places her hand on my forearm in sincerity as she presses her other hand to her chest.
“Thank you, Cameron. I’ve really enjoyed spending the evening with you.”
Hearing those words causes my heart to race. I nod once. I can tell she’s one of those women who cares about the little things—the gestures, and the small selfless acts that usually go unnoticed. Whoever she ends up with will be a lucky son of a bitch. I just hope he doesn’t break her heart.
“I have as well, but I think we should both get to bed. We have an early morning ahead of us.”
She presses her lips together and nods once. “Right, a morning full of pain and embarrassment.” She stands. “Good night.”
“Good night,” I whisper, watching her walk away. Once again my eyes fall to her firm, perky ass I watch her delicious hips sway back and forth with each step.
When she slips out the door, I groan and let my head fall into my hands as I rub them vigorously across my face. Finally, I stand and head for my room. I strip out of my now-wrinkled suit and crawl beneath the covers, drifting into a deep Samantha-less sleep.
MY ALARM GOES off at five a.m. I roll over and silence it quickly, then push myself up, refusing to lie in bed any longer. I’ve never been a lazy, lounging-around kind of person. It drives me crazy to relax. I much prefer getting up and having an early start to my day. I step into the shower, washing my body quickly before thoughts of Samantha’s lips or ass can permeate my brain again. Once finished, I quickly towel off and shave before dressing.
Since it’s Sunday, I ignore the row of perfectly pressed suits and grab a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. I roll the sleeves up to my elbows, then pull on a pair of comfortable boat shoes. Even though it’s the weekend, I still always make sure I’m dressed well, something I picked up from my father. I look myself over in the mirror and spray on some cologne. Checking the clock, I see it’s now going on six. I open the door and step out into the hall, needing to wake Sam for her day of grooming.
I knock lightly before opening her door. The light from the hallway floods into h
er dark room, lighting up a small sliver across the floor, wall, and bed. Her fluffy black cat lifts its head and yowls at me; I swear it’s cussing me out for waking it.
I step into the room and place my hand on Sam’s exposed ankle, gently shaking it. “Time to wake up, Samantha. You have a busy day ahead of you.”
She jerks her foot away, grabs something off the nightstand, and throws it my way. I quickly dodge it, suddenly remembering her warning.
“Hey!” I shout, walking around the bed to take away whatever is left on the bedside table. “Wake up,” I tell her again, hitting the button on the remote to turn on the light.
“Ouch!” she cries, covering her eyes with her forearm.
“Get up,” I try again.
“No, give me that remote.” She begins to push herself up.
I take several steps backward. “Come and get it,” I tease.
Her eyes narrow into small slits and her brows pull together, causing a crease to form between them. She stumbles across the floor toward me, but I quickly sidestep in the direction of the bathroom. I pretend not to notice her erect nipples through her barely-there t-shirt as she lunges toward me. Her long, shapely legs are exposed beneath the oversized shirt, and I can’t help but quickly wonder if she has anything on underneath.
“There, you’re up. Now, go shower and get ready.” When she steps toward me in an attempt to get the remote, I gently push her toward the bathroom.
She shoots me a dirty look, but then walks into the bathroom and shuts the door between us.
“She wasn’t kidding, was she, Cocoa?” I say, tossing the remote on her bed and heading for the door.
The cat lifts its head to look at me once again before closing its eyes as if I don’t even exist.
I shake my head. “Typical. Why the fuck am I talking to the cat now?” I ask myself, stepping back out into the hall to go downstairs.
I go into my home office and turn on the lights and computer before heading back out to the dining room. The table is already set and covered with platters of food.
“Good morning, Mr. Styles,” Kathy, the maid, says.
“Good morning. How are you?” I ask, taking my seat while she pours me a cup of coffee.
“Very well, thank you. Are you ready for breakfast or just sticking with coffee for now?” she asks, handing me the morning paper.
I look over the selection. “I’ll take some coffee, orange juice, fruit, and toast. Thank you.”
She picks up my plate and serves everything I’ve asked for.
I’m done eating when Samantha walks into the dining room. She sits across from me and pours a cup of coffee. I fold up the paper and look directly at her.
“How was your shower?” I look her up and down and note she’s wearing the Gucci athletic outfit I bought her yesterday. The spandex material hugs every curve of her body so well that it looks like the outfit was made specifically for her. Her dark hair is sopping wet and pulled into a messy bun atop her head, and her face is completely bare of any makeup. It’s obvious she’s not a morning person.
She frowns. “It would’ve been better had I gotten up at noon instead of six.” She shrugs. “But, whatever. What’s for breakfast?”
I let out a chuckle. “If you want something you don’t see here, all you have to do is ask.”
She stands and puts a little of everything on her plate: a few pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, strawberries, and then a heaping serving of biscuits and gravy. She pours a cup of coffee and sits down, tearing into a slice of bacon. She closes her eyes and moans softly. “This is amazing,” she whispers to herself.
A soft laugh escapes my lips at the fuss she’s making, but it’s more to distract myself from my growing erection that soft moan of hers caused. An image of me licking every inch of her naked body spread out across the breakfast table bounces through my brain.
I clear my throat to bring my mind back to where it needs to be. “With all of the moving day excitement yesterday, I forgot to give you this.” I pull my wallet from my back pocket and open it. Removing the white envelope, I lean forward and hand it to her.
She takes it and looks it over before opening it. Inside, she finds a check for twenty-five thousand dollars and a key to the house. Her eyes grow wide with surprise, and I see her swallow.
“Wow. I mean, I knew what I was getting paid, but actually seeing it makes it so…surreal.”
“The key will let you in the front door and the entryway gate if for some reason there is no guard on duty or if the keypad isn’t working. I also had an email sent to you with the gate code as well as the garage and the alarm system codes.”
She nods and places everything back into the envelope before setting it on the table and continuing to eat. She picks at her food for a moment as she falls silent. I don’t know for sure what’s bothering her, but I’m sure the fact that I just handed her a check for her “services” has something to do with it.
I fold up my paper and place it on the table. “I’ll leave you alone to enjoy your breakfast in peace. There are some last-minute things I need to take care of before we leave for the week.” I stand. “My driver is on standby to take you to your appointments.”
“Cameron?” she asks, causing me to stop before I leave the dining room.
“Yes?” I turn back to face her.
Her eyes are downcast, staring at the food on her plate. “Will you come with me? I’m a little nervous.” The tone in her voice tells me she’s filled with uneasey. I can tell by looking at her that she isn’t the kind of woman who is new to the salon.
My smile cracks, but I’m not sure why. A part of me is screaming “no,” but something deep inside me is happy that she wants me there with her.
“Finish breakfast while I get some things done, then we’ll go together.”
Her eyes jump up to me and her wide smile takes over. “Really?”
I press my lips together and nod once before turning and heading for my office.
I take a seat at my desk and turn my attention to the computer screen. I check my email and send replies, then move on to confirming our flights in the morning. I go over my schedule for the month, RSVPing to every event—a way to show off my new fiancée—then shut everything down. I’m walking out of my office just as Sam comes down the stairs.
She motions toward her body. “Do I look okay or do I need to go back up and change? I mean, I realize that I’m wearing, like, two thousand dollars’ worth of spandex, but you are a lot more dressed up than me.”
I smile. “You’re beautiful.” I’m not sure why I chose those words to affirm that her outfit was fine for the occasion. “Shall we?” I hold out my arm.
She loops her arm around mine, and I lead her out the door to the awaiting limo. We both climb in the back seat. “Would you like something to drink? The car is fully stocked.”
Her brows lift with surprise. “Maybe a strong drink will help settle some of these nerves.”
I laugh and pour two glasses of champagne. “It’s really not as bad as you’d think. There is numbing cream. Really, it’s more awkward than anything else.”
“I hope so,” she whispers, lifting the glass to her lips and swallowing down a sip.
I sit back in my seat and take a sip of my own drink. “How about we keep your mind off it, huh?”
“And how do you suggest we do that?”
I didn’t mean anything dirty by it, but somehow, it’s been twisted that way. I can’t hold back my grin or the wink I send her way.
She laughs loudly, then smacks my bicep playfully. “Nice try, but it will take many more of these before that happens.” She holds up her glass. I’m taken aback by how free-spirited and confident she is in herself—letting her loud laugh fill the car without a second thought. The women I’m used to being around are insecure and constantly fishing for compliments and affirmation.
“Good to know,” I shoot back.
She rolls her eyes, but she can’t hold back her smile.
I shrug. “I don’t really know. We’ll be staying on Mr. Smithfield’s estate, in his guest house to be more specific. I’m sure I’ll have a few meetings with him, we’ll have dinner, and they’ll probably take us out to show us how they spend their time—really drilling into my head that they prefer church services and square dances over clubs and drinking.”
She snorts. “So, I’ll need to be dressy-casual.”
“I’d vote to bring a little of everything. I’m nothing if not prepared.”
She nods her head just as the car comes to a stop.
“Shall we?” I ask, pushing for her to open the door and climb out.
She takes a deep breath and swallows the last of her drink. “Let’s do this.”
WE ARRIVE BACK HOME JUST as dinner is being placed on the table. Sam is being dramatic, walking with her legs stiff and bowlegged.
I laugh. “It’s not that bad,” I tell her, removing her jacket and handing it off to the maid.
“How would you know? Do you have a vagina? Have you ever had boiling-hot wax spread across your bits and then had your hair ripped out by the roots?!”
I snicker. “Well, no.”
“Then don’t tell me it’s not that bad.”
“The soreness will fade. Let’s have some dinner, then you can go up and soak in the tub. Epsom salt will help with the pain and aid in the healing process—just don’t use super-hot water, otherwise it could get infected,” I say, leading her into the dining room. I pull out her chair and she sits down. “You’re hair looks beautiful, by the way.”
This causes her eyes to brighten. “I do love the hair. It’s so shiny and smooth. I have to get that hair treatment more often. And I have to admit, the nails are pretty cute.” She holds up her hand to show off the manicure. “By the way, how do you know so much about waxing?”
Before I can answer, she throws her hands up in the air and follows up her question with a quick, “Never mind, I do NOT want to know!”