“How is it?” she asks.
“Good.” I nod reassuringly and take a giant gulp of water to wash it down. “Is it supposed to be crunchy like that?”
“I don’t know.” She places a generous spoonful in her mouth and promptly spits it into her napkin. “Oh, wow, it’s horrible.”
“Didn’t you sample it while you were cooking?” It’s all I can do to hold back a laugh.
“No. Was I supposed to?”
“Well, generally speaking, yes.” I decide to take one for the team and brave another bite.
She grabs my hand before I can get the fork to my mouth. “I wouldn’t feed that to my dog.” A smile twitches her lips. I smile back. A chuckle rumbles up my chest until I’m ready to burst. Her green eyes sparkle. We both erupt in laughter. “I can’t believe you were going to pretend you liked it.” She dabs at the tears in her eyes with the corner of her napkin.
“You just seemed so excited. I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”
“Do you want to order in?” Her gaze darkens, focusing on my mouth. The air thickens between us. “Later?”
Never in my life have I been so happy. Every day with Vanessa is more perfect than the one before it. We don’t talk about the future or our relationship. She extends her stay, catching a plane back to San Francisco the day before her classes resume. When she’s gone, the apartment seems empty and sad.
I drop all my clients. The thought of sex with other women is unbearable. The financial burden will be rough, but I’ll manage somehow. A few weeks into the New Year, I call Vanessa. “What are you doing this weekend?”
“Not much. Studying. Why?” Her voice is soft, inviting. “You miss me, don’t you?”
“Yes.” I’ve never put myself out there before, but it comes naturally with her. “Come see me.”
Her laughter rings across the continent, but it’s not a no. “Are you crazy?”
“Maybe.” I draw in a deep breath before plunging in headlong to uncharted territory. “If you can’t come here, I’ll come out there.”
Silence stretches for an eternity before she answers. “Okay.”
We spend every weekend together. And when we can’t, we Skype or Facetime. Kate continues to call and text, but I ignore her. Eventually, she’ll find another boy-toy to occupy her. My project falls to the side. All I can think about is Vanessa and the next time we’ll be together. I’m not sure how or when it happened, but for the first time in my life, I’m in love.
25
Vanessa
Twelve Years Ago
Spring break finally arrives. Cam and I decide to spend it in New York. The city is beautiful this time of year. We take long walks through the park during the day and make love all night long.
“Have you ever thought about transferring to New York?” he asks as I turn out the lights and climb into bed. “There are good business programs here.”
“Have you ever thought about transferring to Stanford?” I throw back at him, certain he’s joking.
“Yes.” His serious tone yanks my gaze to his face. “I’m not sure I can swing the tuition, though.”
“You’d do that?”
“To be with you? Yes.” There is no hesitation in his answer. My heart skips a beat. “You’re all I think about.”
The sincerity in his eyes melts my misgivings. “This is crazy.”
“I know.” He takes my hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and presses a kiss on my knuckles. “The distance is killing me. I want to be with you.”
“Me too.” The words come out in a choked whisper. I’m desperate for him in a way I’ve never known. I smooth my palms over the warm flesh of his back, drawing him closer. My body molds to his like it was made for him. We fit together perfectly, my curves to his hardness. “I was accepted into Columbia. I can look into a transfer.”
The frantic beating of my heart threatens to crack my ribs. He slides on top of me, nudging my thighs open with his knees. Our fingers intertwine. He draws my hands up beside my head and gazes into my eyes. The pure depth of feeling there erases all my misgivings. Common sense flees, and I’m left with nothing but desire for this beautiful man.
“I’m so in love with you.” His confession splits me in two. I lift my hips, taking him deeper. “I want you, Vanessa. All of you.” He rests his weight on an elbow, freeing a hand to caress the lines of my face. “The thought of being without you scares the hell out of me. I know I’m not worthy of you, but I’ll do anything to make you happy.”
Tears blur my sight. I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I want you, too.”
I’m drowning in the pools of his blue eyes, falling without hope of recovery, lost forever. I don’t care about tomorrow or my education or what my parents will think. I only want to be with him.
In the morning, we make love again before Cam showers. I remain in bed and bask in the post-coital afterglow. The muscles of my thighs ache from wrapping so tightly around his waist; my lips are tender and swollen from a thousand passionate kisses. I couldn’t be happier.
Ten minutes later, Cam walks out of the bathroom. A snowy-white towel hangs low on his hips. Drops of water glisten on his black hair. He shrugs on a pale blue dress shirt then bends to kiss my forehead.
“Stay here. Sleep in. I’m going to run some errands.” His eyes are dark and serious. “There are a few things I need to take care of today. When I get back, we’ll talk about how we want to handle things.”
“Sounds good.” I burrow deeper into the covers but not before stealing another kiss. “Or you could come back to bed and worry about real life later.”
His laughter vibrates through my body, all the way into my toes. “Mmmm…that does sound tempting, but no.” He pulls away, shaking his head. “We’ve got plenty of time for that.”
After the door closes behind him, sleep pulls me under once more. I have strange dreams about running through mist, the roar of the ocean in the background. When I awaken two hours later, I’m groggy and disoriented. It takes a few seconds for me to remember that I’m in Cam’s apartment, and he wants me. Just thinking the words causes my pulse to accelerate.
The sound of the doorbell cuts through my romantic musings. Thinking Cam must have his arms full or forgotten his key, I pad to the door wearing only his dress shirt. A petite brunette stands in the hallway. She blinks at me, brows furrowing, then glances at the apartment number over the door.
“Who are you?” Her gaze runs over my bare legs, tousled hair, and kiss-swollen lips.
“Vanessa. Who are you?” The animosity in her tone raises the hackles on my neck.
“I’m Kate. I was looking for Cam. Is he here?” She tries to peer around me. “He’s been avoiding me.”
“He’s out running errands. Can I leave a message for him?” I place an arm on the jamb, blocking her entrance, and muster a polite smile. Cam’s never mentioned anyone named Kate. She might be a crazy stalker or just a weirdo. The city is full of them.
“No. I’ve left him several messages already. I was just wondering why he hasn’t called me back.” With a manicured hand, she smooths her hair. “I thought sleepovers were against his policy. Did you pay extra for that?”
“Excuse me?”
“He told me two-hour sessions, straight sex only, no sleepovers. Threesomes, toys, and role play cost extra. Isn’t that right?”
A cold sliver of disbelief slices through my midsection. My brain struggles to process her words. Toys? Role play?
The woman seems oblivious to my shock. She frowns and rummages through her Birkin bag. After an eternity, she extends a business card. “Here, give this to him. I had to change my number. Tell him I’m going to Vegas next week, and I’d love for him to come along.” She winks. I want to slap the smirk off her face. “Don’t wear him out. Save some for me, will you?”
Her heels click on the tile floor as she heads toward the elevator. I stand in front of the open door, oblivious to everyone and everything but the pain in my chest. The world d
ims and spins. I cover my hand with my mouth and race to the bathroom in time to hurl in the toilet.
The pieces fall into place: this beautiful apartment, his brilliance between the sheets, the case of condoms in the bathroom closet. How many women has he serviced? Is he still sleeping with them now? Thank goodness, we always used protection. I drop my head into shaking hands. Tears ooze from the corners of my eyes. It can’t be true.
I race to his desk and rifle through the drawers. Pieces of paper flutter through the air; receipts, flight accommodations, hotel reservations. In the second drawer, there’s a small black book. I flip through the pages. Names, dates, times, phone numbers, addresses—it’s a cornucopia of information. All the names belong to women of status, some of them I recognize as acquaintances of my mother. Beneath each name is a list of intimate details about each person—food allergies, hobbies, body type, sexual preferences.
A dull ache spreads across my forehead. The magnitude of this discovery rocks my world. I don’t know who Cameron is. He’s certainly not the guy I thought he was. The idea of his hands on another woman blends jealousy with hurt. What kind of guy does something like this? I don’t want to know, but curiosity drives my fingers to the back of the book, to the letter S.
And there I am. Vanessa Seaforth. Blonde. Big tits. Afraid of heights. Loves chocolate and animals. Doggy style, oral. Fire floods through my veins. Has he been playing me from the start? Am I just a meal ticket? I slam the book closed then hurl it across the room.
He’s going to be back soon. I can’t face him. I don’t want to hear his excuses or explanations. Nothing he can say will change the truth. He’s a man-whore. And I’m an idiot.
In less than an hour, I’m in a cab heading toward the airport. From the relative obscurity of the backseat, I release the wall around my emotions. Tears stream down my cheeks. The cab driver asks me if I’m alright and hands me a box of tissues.
“No. I’m not,” I answer between sobs. My heart feels like it’s been ripped in two. I’ll never be alright again.
Somehow, I make it to the correct terminal, but my flight doesn’t leave for another two hours. I spend the time sniffling and avoiding Cam’s calls. He leaves dozens of voice mails along with endless text messages. I delete them all then turn off my phone. It doesn’t matter what he says. Nothing excuses his behavior. His deceit has proven that he can’t be trusted. It’s a mistake I’ll never make again.
I’m about to go buy a second box of tissues when a kind voice interrupts my nervous breakdown. A slender man peers down at me and offers a handkerchief. Through my tears, I recognize Giles Robilliard.
26
Cam
Twelve Years Ago
When the fourth cab rushes past my upraised hand, I burrow deeper into my coat and decide to walk the fifteen blocks to my apartment. Although the sky is clear and blue, the wind is biting. New buds dot tree branches, promising spring. I draw in a deep lungful of air, savoring the smells of the city. The scent of fresh bread prompts me to duck into the bakery on the corner. Vanessa will be hungry and will enjoy a freshly baked bagel.
I’ve only been gone a few hours, but I already miss her. A smile stretches my lips. The man behind the counter hands the box of bagels to me. I give him a twenty and tell him to keep the change, because I can’t wait another minute to get back to my girl. We’re going to be so happy together.
“Cameron? Hey.” The familiar female voice stops me at the bakery door. I turn to see Kate at one of the small tables, alone, a cup of coffee and a slice of coffee cake in front of her. “There you are.”
An ominous shiver courses up my back. “Hi.” I start to leave then think better of it. I need to tie up all the loose ends in my life, put an end to my career as an escort once and for all, so I turn back to Kate. “How are you?”
“Better now.” Her face brightens. She gestures to the chair across from me. “Have a seat.”
“No. Thanks. I’m kind of in a hurry.”
“Oh, right.” She winks. I don’t like the knowing smirk on her lips. “I was just at your apartment.”
The color drains from the room, except for the red lipstick on Kate’s mouth. My mouth goes dry. “You were at my apartment? Why?”
“You didn’t answer my calls, and I needed to talk to you.” A furrow deepens between her brows. “I’m going to Vegas for a conference next week, and I need a date for the dinners. I want you to come. All expenses paid, of course.”
“I told you never to come to my apartment.” The cadence of my pulse quickens to an uncomfortable speed. I can’t breathe. She went to my place. Vanessa is there. Oh, my God. “What did you say?”
“Excuse me?” Kate blunders on, oblivious to my impending meltdown. “I left my information with your girl. No fair, by the way. I thought you didn’t do overnights.”
“Shit.” I don’t wait for her to continue. The bell over the bakery door echoes in my wake. I sprint down the street, losing the bagels in the process, shoving people aside, garnering curses from pedestrians. Defeat nips at my heels. This can’t be happening.
At my building, I take the stairs two at a time. With each step closer to my apartment, desperation grows. The key won’t go into the lock. I pound on the door but get no answer. Finally, the deadbolt clicks. The door bangs against the wall behind it as I blast into the room. It’s empty. She’s gone. And I am so fucked.
27
Cam
Today
By the time Saturday rolls around, my body is a tangle of tension. Tristan suggests a night out on the town to take my mind off the recent trouble with Seaforth Media. A mutual friend, Galen Waltz, is throwing a birthday party for his sister at the hottest club in town. I reluctantly agree to attend.
Galen greets us at the door. He’s from old money, the kind with no beginning and no end in sight. I met him in college, and our paths continued to cross through the years. He ushers us to a VIP section at the back of the bar, the bar he owns. The walls are black. Fog floats in the air, pumped from hidden machines. Bodies pack the dance floor. The richest of the rich are here tonight—socialites, musicians, actors.
The circle of high society is surprisingly small. Most of the people are acquaintances. Some are business associates. Aside from Galen and Tristan, none of them are worth my attention. I’ve worked my entire life to rub elbows with the elite, only to learn they’re no different than anyone else.
“How’ve you been?” Galen shoves a whiskey into my hand and a martini into Tristan’s. He’s a few inches shorter than my six-four, athletic, and dressed in charcoal slacks and a black dress shirt. An air of command envelopes him. Dystopia is his playground, and he lords over it like a king.
“Good.” I’m already wondering how long I need to wait before I can leave. My mind is stuck on Melody’s Hope, the nonprofit organization I’ve set up for victims of abuse. The foundation is named after my sister, who passed away a few years ago. If Seaforth Media folds, the charity will need to find a new source of funding. I have plenty of resources, but I hate to see a decade of work thrown aside.
“Don’t let him lie to you. He’s had a shit week at work.” Tristan smiles at the three lovely ladies across from us. I take a seat on the sofa. Their gazes travel the length of my body. A month ago, I would’ve invited them for a weekend on my yacht. Tonight, however, I can’t help comparing them to Vanessa. Their clothing is too tight, too sparkly, and their smiles too eager.
“Anything I can help with?” Galen was one of the first to invest in my computer hardware company. When he’s not managing his chain of nightclubs, he likes to dabble in other people’s investments. Our little venture put some serious coin in his pockets.
“No.” I don’t want to talk about work on a Saturday night. I came here to forget my troubles, not rehash them.
“He’s having a conflict with his newest partner.” Tristan smiles and waggles his eyebrows.
“Ah, the inimitable Vanessa Seaforth. She’s here, you know?” At the mention of
her name, my gut flip-flops. Galen sidesteps an oncoming waitress and points through a small opening in the crowd. Against my will, my vision follows his finger to the group of women hovering on the fringe of the dance floor. I recognize Vanessa immediately. She’s wearing a short dress with a scoop neck, her ample cleavage on display. Her hair is loose, falling in spirals down her back. Galen studies my face, eyes alight with interest. “Should I invite her over?”
“No.” My answer comes quickly. The last thing I need is a public altercation with my business partner. I’m still reeling from the way we parted. Her disapproval has wounded my pride as well as my heart.
“I’m going to ask her to dance.” Tristan downs his martini in two gulps and shoves the glass at Galen. “You don’t mind, do you, Cam?”
“Do what you want,” I say, ignoring the pinprick of jealousy. To prove to myself that I don’t care, I trade smiles with the girl at my side.
“That’s what I thought,” Tristan replies, a knowing smirk on his face. He straightens the collar of his shirt. “Wish me luck.”
I watch him cross the room, take Vanessa’s elbow and lead her to the dance floor. Her smile lights up her entire face, a smile I used to know so well but haven’t seen in years. Why can’t I make her smile like that? The answer haunts me every night. He places a hand on the small of her back, and jealousy licks through me like wildfire.
“Hey, Cam, how are you?” A woman approaches, one whose name escapes me, but I’m sure we fucked a few years ago. Two friends flank her sides, simpering smiles on their red lips.
“Hey.” I nod and return my attention to my phone.
“Mind if we join you?” They hover hopefully on the perimeter of the VIP section, waiting for an invitation I have no intention of issuing.
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 100