It wasn’t that I was wife-hunting, exactly. I wasn’t sure how I felt about marriage, although I was open to it if it seemed right. But I was well past the I just want to hook up phase, and not really into let’s just be casual and fuck sometimes. I was hoping for an actual relationship with someone interesting.
But normal. Ordinary. Not a woman who carried twenty concealed weapons underneath a black minidress and could use her stilettos as backup if necessary.
“Hey,” Karen said, getting settled in her chair. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
Seconds ticked by in silence. I rubbed my palms on my thighs beneath the table. I wasn’t good at this part. I could face down a corrupt senator and threaten to out him to the rival mafia factions he was scamming, but I couldn’t make small talk with a woman in a restaurant.
“So,” she said, picking up the menu. “The fish tacos are good here.”
“Oh, great. I like fish tacos.”
“Me too.”
I picked up my menu for something to do with my hands. And it made the ensuing silence less awkward. The server came to take our orders and I reluctantly handed over my menu. Kind of felt like I needed it for cover.
We managed a short stint of casual conversation—mostly about the weather—while we waited for our food. The server brought our meals and we both spread our napkins on our laps.
“So what do you do?” she asked.
“I guess you could say I’m a one-man security firm. I just finished up with a client before this, actually. Although I’m planning to retire.”
“That sounds nice. What will you do with your time once you retire?
I opened my mouth to reply, but I didn’t exactly have a solid answer to that question. What did I want to do with my time? More to the point, what did normal people do when they retired? “You know, play golf. Maybe start a small business.”
“Like what?” She took a bite of her food.
“I’m not sure. Lately I’ve been thinking about a food truck. Something I can manage with just a few people. What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m a new accounts manager at a bank.”
I nodded while I chewed a bite. She was right, the fish tacos were great. “Do you enjoy it?”
“Yeah, I do. I have really great coworkers.”
“You know, bank robberies are more common than people think. Modern security technology has helped quite a bit, but the criminals keep getting smarter. You make a better lock, bad guys learn how to pick it.”
She nodded slowly. “Oh. Yeah, I suppose so.”
“And police response times can be abysmal, especially with the traffic.”
“The traffic can be bad.”
“Did you know only twenty percent of bank robbers are caught?” I took another bite.
She paused with her water halfway to her mouth. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“The best thing to do when faced with multiple armed assailants is stay calm and don’t look them in the eyes. No matter how tightly organized they are, once a job gets going, tensions are high. They’re probably nervous, even paranoid. The last thing you want to do is call attention to yourself.”
“Oh.”
“The exception to that is if it looks like it’s turning into a hostage situation.” I gestured idly. “In that case, tell them you have a health condition and you’ll need your medication soon. The vast majority of the time, they won’t want that kind of complication and they’ll let you go. And you definitely want to get out as quickly as they’ll let you. Once hostages get involved, the chance of there being casualties increases dramatically. That goes for any kind of armed perpetrator situation, not just bank robberies.”
She stared at me, her face pale.
“I mean, that’s what I’ve heard,” I said, then cleared my throat.
Son of a bitch. I’d just scared the shit out of her with my rundown on how to handle an armed-robbery-turned-hostage situation.
It was no surprise that Karen picked at her meal for another few minutes, then thanked me and made an excuse about needing to feed her cat.
I finished my dinner alone, feeling like a dumbass. This was not the first time I’d made a date awkward. Like that time I’d explained how to dismantle a bomb on a second date. Or when my date had asked me about places I’d traveled, and I’d casually mentioned there were four or five countries where I was no longer welcome.
It was times like this that I thought maybe I was kidding myself about the whole live an ordinary life thing. I didn’t know if a guy like me could ever learn to be ordinary.
But I had to. Getting back in wasn’t an option. I knew where that life ended for most people. Or more importantly, when that life ended, and it was a lot sooner than I’d like. It was why I wanted to retire. I needed to put all the cloak and dagger shit behind me.
The truth was, I was tired of being alone. Tired of feeling like I couldn’t trust anyone. My handful of friends and acquaintances were fine, but I felt adrift. I wanted connection. Purpose.
Otherwise I was always going to be the odd loner with the past he couldn’t talk about.
2
Cameron
Form-fitting gold Versace gown. Check. Shimmering gold Louboutins. Check. My favorite sassy red lipstick. Check. Gin martini. Double check.
My dignity? That one was debatable.
Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling in the Biltmore Hotel ballroom. I glanced at the one above the silent auction tables, wondering how much it weighed and whether they’d had to retrofit reinforcements into the ceiling when it was installed. An odd line of thinking during a black-tie charity auction, perhaps, but that’s how my mind worked.
It wasn’t really the building’s structure that had me gazing up at the ceiling with a drink perched in my manicured hand. It was a very satisfying fantasy of the giant chandelier breaking free from its supports and crashing to the ground. Right on top of Aldrich Leighton. He wasn’t even here, and I was imagining his demise beneath a ton of crystal, glass, and metal.
“Cam?” Emily nudged me with her elbow. “Hello?”
Blinking, I tore my eyes away from the crystal monstrosity. Emily Stanton, one of my best friends and a biochemistry genius turned billionaire CEO, rocked her hot red dress like nobody’s business. Her blond hair was perfection and a pair of very tasteful diamond earrings sparkled in her ears.
“Sorry, I was just… thinking.”
She rubbed a hand up and down my arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” I took a sip of my martini as if to emphasize my okayness. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Emily opened her mouth to answer but Luna swept up, her big brown eyes shining. “Have you tried the vegan spanikopita? It’s to die for.”
“No, I’m sticking with gin.” I lifted my glass. “Clear fluids are good for you.”
Luna tilted her head, her long brown hair brushing her bare shoulders. Her white strapless dress practically glowed in the low light. Luna da Rosa—known as Moon to her closest friends—was a popular Instagram brand and the founder of Wild Hearts, a cruelty-free cosmetics company. Her big heart was my daily reminder to be a better person. Tonight that big heart seemed intent on mothering me.
“Sweetie, you need to eat,” Luna said. “I’ll get you something.”
“I ate before we left,” I said, but Luna ignored me in her quest to find one of the appetizer-bearing waiters.
“Maybe we should have stayed in tonight,” Emily said, her voice laced with concern.
“It’s good for me to be seen,” I said. “If I disappear it’ll just blow the whole thing out of proportion.”
Emily gave me the side-eye while she dug her phone out of her clutch. A little smile crossed her lips as she typed. She’d been dirty texting her boyfriend Derek all night. We’d only been gone for a few hours, but the four of us—Daisy was around here somewhere—had come to the Florida Cancer Research
Society’s fund-raising auction as each other’s dates. A slightly stuffy version of girls’ night, but at least we were here for a good purpose.
“I’m not going to lie, Emily. I’m a little jealous of the hot sex you’re going to have tonight,” I said.
“What makes you think I’m having hot sex tonight?” Emily asked.
It was my turn to give her the side-eye.
Her lips turned up in a smile. “Okay, fine.”
Luna came back and handed me a cocktail napkin with a pastry triangle.
“Thanks, Moon.” I took a bite and the flaky pastry practically melted in my mouth. “Okay, you were right, these are to die for.” I wasn’t sure how Luna lived without bacon—or cheese—but I admired her dedication to her principles. And this spanikopita was amazing.
“Has anyone told you how fucking fantastic your ass looks in that dress, Cam?” Daisy appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my ass cheek. “I swear to god, whatever Inda makes you do is working.”
“She loves to torture me,” I said. Inda was my personal trainer and an Israeli goddess. My girl crush on her was no secret. I wasn’t sexually attracted to women, generally, but if Inda had been single, I’d have given it serious consideration.
Daisy leaned back to check out my ass again. “Worth it. I’d totally do you.”
“That would make for some fun gossip.” I sipped my drink.
“If you want to go make out in a corner, let me know.” Daisy winked at me. “Give them something else to talk about. I’ve got your back, babe.”
“Careful, she’s probably not kidding,” Emily whispered.
I knew Daisy wasn’t kidding. Her impulsiveness and flair for the dramatic meant you never knew what she was going to do next.
“Tempting,” I said. “My hair does look great, so I’m camera ready. Although I think a public display of sexual experimentation might be the wrong PR move for me right now.”
“Disagree, but suit yourself,” Daisy said.
“Have you bid on any silent auction items?” Luna asked.
“I’m getting that.” Daisy pointed to a large jewel-encrusted glass giraffe. “Isn’t it fabulous?”
It was hideous, but that was probably why Daisy had to have it. “Why do I suspect they procured that specifically because Daisy Carter-Kincaid was on the guest list?”
Daisy was another member of our odd little foursome. On the surface, she looked like a socialite party-girl, with her constantly changing hair and intentionally scandalous wardrobe choices. What the gossip rags neglected to mention was how hard she worked managing—and expanding—her family’s real estate empire.
A man in a black tux paused by the item and wrote on the bid sheet.
“Oh hell no. He is not getting my giraffe. I’m going to go outbid the shit out of him.” Daisy paused, her lips curling in a smile. “I might do more than outbid him. He’s cute.”
“Girls’ night, Daisy,” Emily said. “No dates.”
“Who said anything about a date?” Daisy asked. Her hips sashayed in her shimmery hot pink dress as she sauntered over to the silent auction tables. Poor guy didn’t know what was about to hit him. Daisy was on the prowl.
The hairs on the back of my neck kept standing up, like someone was watching me. I glanced around the cavernous ballroom. Guests in designer gowns and custom-tailored tuxes milled around the auction items. Others were seated at their tables, finishing their desserts or sipping drinks. Clusters of people stood in knots around the room, chatting with cocktails in their hands.
And a fair number of them seemed to be casting judgmental glances in my direction.
“People are watching me, aren’t they?” I asked.
“Yes,” Emily said, and I appreciated her no-bullshit answer. “But can you blame them? It’s been all over the news.”
“What?” I hissed.
She looked at me like I’d suddenly gone insane. “You saw the articles. We were talking about them last night.”
“Oh, the thing in the parking garage.”
“Cam, someone basically attacked you. How can you be so flippant about it?”
“He didn’t even get my purse.”
I wished everyone would stop making such a big deal out of the so-called attempted mugging. Some random guy in a mask and hoodie had tried to grab my purse after work the other night. I’d stomped on his foot with my heel and rushed back into my building while he wailed in pain. It had barely been an incident worth mentioning, but the press was acting like it was big news.
“Do you really think that’s why people are staring?” I asked.
“Why else would they be staring at you?” she asked.
“Because of the fucking sex tape,” I said, lowering my voice.
I drained the last of my martini. Fucking Aldrich. A little over a year into our relationship, when I’d thought Aldrich might be the one, he’d talked me into letting him take a video of us having sex. I’d had a glass or two of wine and the allure of doing something a little bit kinky had overridden my good judgment.
Although I wasn’t watched by the press like Daisy, being the CEO of a major aeronautics company and one of only a handful of female billionaires in the country meant I was susceptible to public scrutiny. It made me extremely careful to curate a professional public image. I acted the part. Dressed the part. And one little lapse in judgment—one night—was looming over my hard-fought reputation like a thundercloud.
I’d trusted Aldrich. That was what really stung. Aldrich’s country club buddies weren’t passing that video around because some jerk had hacked into Aldrich’s computer and stolen it. He’d sent it to them. Sent a video that should have remained private. A video he’d assured me he had deleted long before we’d broken up.
Deleted, my ass.
“If it gets out, Derek and his team will help,” Emily said. “And I don’t think many people have seen it.”
“God, I hope not.”
Luna rubbed a few circles across my back. “It’s going to be fine.”
“Thanks. I should go bid on some things.” I set my napkin and empty martini glass on a passing waiter’s tray.
Daisy was busy flirting with the guy who’d bid on the ugly giraffe—which didn’t say much about his taste, but to each his own. I wandered around the auction tables with Emily and Luna, absently bidding on things.
It had arguably been one of the worst weeks of my life—attacked in a parking garage and a potential sex scandal just days apart—so I was glad to be out with my girls. At thirty-six I still loved playing dress-up, and a black-tie event was a great excuse to dress to the nines. I’d hoped a killer gown and stilettos would take my mind off everything else.
So far I’d spent most of my evening fantasizing about bad things happening to my ex and having imaginary confrontations with him in my head. The good news was, if I did run into him, I had at least a dozen zingers ready.
Aldrich wasn’t here, however, and I couldn’t decide if that was a very good thing, or a massive disappointment.
We’d broken up six months ago, and until Monday, I’d been completely over it. Early in our relationship I’d imagined a future with him, but I’d eventually realized we were totally wrong for each other. Even in the immediate aftermath of our breakup, I hadn’t been grieving him so much as the loss of nearly three years with the wrong man. I hadn’t shed any tears. Mostly ranted to my friends while we drank wine in Daisy’s hot tub.
After that it had been business as usual. I had an aerospace empire to run.
But Monday, a friend of his who was not a total douche had called to let me know Aldrich had shared the video with a handful of his buddies. His friend had thought it was a dick move and wanted me to know.
I’d thanked him and started plotting Aldrich’s murder.
Except not literally.
Daisy sidled up next to me and slipped her arm around mine. “I think you need another drink.”
“What happened to giraffe guy?”
“He
was cute, but he’s American, so, you know.”
Daisy only dated European men. If you could call what she did dating. I admired her give-no-fucks spirit. Daisy Carter-Kincaid forged her own path and didn’t care what other people thought.
Luna and Emily joined us, and we made our way to the bar for another round of cocktails. We wandered back to our table—it seated eight, but we’d kept it to just the four of us by buying out the other seats—and sat down with our drinks.
“Cam, there’s another reason we all came out tonight,” Emily said.
“You mean other than the chance to bid on jewel-encrusted zoo animals? Do tell.”
“Just hear me out.” She glanced at Luna and Daisy. They both nodded.
Oh lovely. The vagillionaires—Daisy’s term for the four of us—were about to gang up on me.
“You need personal security,” Emily said.
“At least until we can be sure it was an isolated incident,” Luna said.
“It probably was,” I said. “And I have security.”
“Not personal security,” Emily said. “Derek knows someone who’s very good.”
“I appreciate what you’re all trying to do, but I’m fine. I don’t need some scary dude in dark glasses following me around everywhere.”
“It’s not nearly as bad as you think,” Daisy said. She glanced around and waved to her bodyguard. “Alessandro’s the man. You just need to find someone you like.”
“I agree,” Luna said. “It’s comforting to know someone has your back.”
I took a sip of my martini and set my glass down. This wasn’t the first time they’d brought this up and I was bristling hard at the idea of a personal bodyguard. It felt so stifling. I already had a staff of people surrounding me. I didn’t want to add someone whose job was essentially to follow me around all the time.
“We have building security at work,” I said.
“That didn’t stop some jackass from trying to snatch your handbag,” Daisy said.
The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy Page 2