Galen grins sadistically and unhooks the rope to allow them admission. Bastard. “Sure, have a seat. Cam’s feeling a little blue. Maybe you can cheer him up.”
The women take up positions to my left and right. I pretend to scroll through messages on my phone to avoid conversation. Galen calls for more drinks. The whiskey starts to do its magic, loosening the kinks in my muscles and blurring the whir of thoughts in my brain. It’s hard to concentrate, however, because the only girl I ever loved is standing a few yards away, and I can’t have her.
28
Vanessa
Today
The hottest club in the city is Dystopia. The line for entrance winds down the sidewalk and around the corner to the next street. The waiting patrons are an eclectic mix, elaborately dressed, and exuding excitement. Four gigantic men dressed in black suits flank either side of the enormous glass entrance. Their heads turn when our limousine maneuvers to the curb, and one of them speaks into a microphone clipped to the cuff of his jacket, presumably to announce our arrival.
Sam’s driver, Rockwell, lowers the partition to the back. He’s been Sam’s chauffeur since childhood and is more of a friend than employee. He’s the same handsome, stalwart man I remember from my youth. His hair is silver instead of dark, but his eyes are still pale blue. Seeing him brings back pleasant childhood memories and a lump to my throat.
He turns to look at us over the back of his seat. “Hang on a second, ladies. Your security is right behind us. They’ll walk you in.”
An unpleasant reality of being a high-profile person is the constant risk of kidnapping or bodily harm. I grew up in the spotlight and have come to accept the constant flurry of bodyguards. They lurk on the periphery of my life, doing their jobs with quiet efficiency. Most of the time, I can pretend they aren’t there. Tonight, we have an absurd amount of security due to Venetia’s friend Sydney. She just starred in a blockbuster movie. Her likeness is plastered on a billboard across the street.
Rockwell opens the door. Our security builds a wall with their bodies to protect us from the chaotic whir of camera shutters and curious onlookers. A murmur of excitement ripples through the crowd as Sydney gets out of the car. She smiles and waves. I’m the last one out. To my relief, no one notices. They’re too busy fawning over Sydney.
“It’s so nice to see you, Rockwell,” I say and give his forearm a squeeze.
“And it’s terrific to see you, Miss Vanessa.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles back at me. “I’m so proud of you.”
No one has ever been proud of me before. The sting of tears blurs my vision. I clear my throat. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.”
“No need to thank me. Just stating a fact.” He winks and nods toward the door, reassuming his professional demeanor. “Enjoy your evening, ladies.”
Venetia and Sydney greet the bouncers with a wave. The bald one steps forward. “Right this way.” He hands us lanyards on delicate silver chains. “VIP passes.”
People swarm around us, their voices buzz like bees. My feet stop moving. I stand rooted to the black marble tile in the entryway. An enormous crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting prisms of light on the walls. The steady thump of a bass drum permeates the walls. Dakota bumps into my back.
“Is something wrong?” she asks. “Why’d you stop?”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” I haven’t been to a club in years, and now I know why. The atmosphere is charged, the people glamorous, and the hour late. “I’m too old for this.”
“Me too, but we’re doing it anyway. We’ve been working our asses off. We deserve a break.” Dakota grabs my arm, swinging me toward the bar. Venetia and Sydney, crowd behind us, blocking any hope of escape.
“You have to at least stay until one o’clock,” Venetia says. She looks like Sam, taller and blonder than me. I remember her as a little girl. The resemblance is still there, but she wears an attractive air of confidence. “Beckett is watching the baby, and I haven’t been out in ages. Besides, Sydney’s here, and we have to celebrate.”
“Hell, yes,” Sydney replies. Her black hair is swept to one side, held in place by a glittery comb. She smiles, parting red lips, revealing perfect white teeth. I have to admit that I’m a little bit star-struck. “Stick with me, Vanessa.” She hooks an arm through mine. “We’re going to have a great time.”
“Fine. I’ll try.” My feet ache from the stiletto heels. I tug on the hem of the dress Dakota loaned me. It’s shorter than my normal knee-length wardrobe and exposes a maximum amount of cleavage.
“Your boobs look enormous in that dress,” Venetia observes, echoing my thoughts. “Why didn’t I inherit big boobs? It’s so not fair.”
“Because you got long legs. Don’t be greedy.” We exchange smiles. I hardly know her, but I feel an innate pull. The bonds of sisterhood run deep. I hope we can make up for lost time now that I’m back. She seems happy with her amazing boyfriend Beckett and their sweet baby. My family and circle of friends are expanding by the day. I need to be thankful for their presence and support. I tug on the dress one more time. “Can you see my bra?”
“No,” Sydney and Venetia reply in unison.
“It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s looking at Sydney,” Dakota says.
Sydney rolls her long-lashed blue eyes, demonstrating one of the many reasons movie cameras love her. “Not that guy.” She points across the room to the VIP section, to Cam. My insides shrivel. Holy crap. He’s the last person I wanted to see.
“Don’t point at him,” I say and duck behind the nearest person. “I don’t want him to see me.”
He’s behind the velvet ropes, lounging on a sofa, a trio of beauties at his side. One of his arms is slung along the backrest. His knees are spread wide, long legs stretching into the aisle. The throat of his shirt is unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to expose sinewy forearms. He looks relaxed. A half smile plays on his lips.
“You know him?” Sydney’s eyebrows lift. “Very nice.”
“Who? Cameron Blackwood?” Venetia follows the trajectory of our gazes. “He’s always here on the weekends.”
I roll my eyes. “Would you stop looking at him?”
“I should have known he’d be here.” Dakota frowns. “He’s buddies with Galen.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” I want to crawl under the nearest table, but it’s too late. Cam’s gaze lands on us. My knees liquefy as our eyes meet. “Please tell me this isn’t happening.” I try to push my way toward the door, but Dakota and Venetia grab my arms. When I turn back around, his attention has returned to one of his pretty female companions. A twinge of jealousy tweaks my self-confidence. I don’t know why I care. He’s not mine. He never was.
“Oh no,” Venetia says. “You aren’t going anywhere until we’ve had at least two drinks and danced.”
Tristan steps into my line of sight, blocking Cam from view. “Hello, ladies. You’re looking lovely tonight.” His gaze drifts past Venetia and Dakota and stops on Sydney. “I don’t think I know your friend.”
“Tristan, this is Sydney. Sydney, Tristan Avondale.” I bite back a smile as Tristan kisses the back of Sydney’s hand. She endures his flirting with good grace. He is, after all, a handsome guy with a crap-ton of money.
“Nice to meet you,” she says. His face falls when she turns to chat with the young man next to her.
“Don’t worry, you’ve still got it,” I tease. “She’s not your type anyway.”
“What do you know about my type?” He lifts an eyebrow. “I used to think you were my type.”
“I was never your type.” He places a hand over his heart, like I’ve wounded his ego. We both laugh. It feels good to smile again, and a bit of my strain ebbs away.
“Dance with me.” He guides me toward the dance floor for a slow song. His arm slides around my waist, and we fall into step. He’s comfortable and familiar in a brotherly sort of way. I’ve missed him more than I care to admit. His left hand slips to my b
ottom. I move it to my waist. Same old Tristan.
“Tristan!” His chest shakes with laughter. He’s teasing me. Mischief sparkles in his eyes.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying, can you?” He guides me expertly around the dance floor. “You looked like you were at a funeral. At least I made you smile.”
“Cam looks like he’s having a good time.” The statement slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. He hasn’t looked in our direction even once. Jealousy turns my vision red when one of the girls offers him the cherry from her cocktail. She dangles the berry over his mouth. He bites it from the stem, garnering smiles and laughter from his fan club.
“Cam always has a good time,” Tristan says, adding fuel to the fire already burning in my chest.
“He’s accomplished a lot, hasn’t he?” Part of me is proud of the way he’s built an empire from nothing. The rest of me is still reeling from our last meeting. Gaston’s parentage hangs over my head like a thundercloud. I can’t look at Cam without thinking of all the complications in our future.
“I’ve never seen anyone so determined to succeed, Vanessa. There’s nothing he won’t do to get what he wants.” After a pause, he adds, “I’m sorry about the way things turned out with Seaforth Media.”
“He’s really going to pull out of the partnership, isn’t he?” I ask, but I already know the answer.
Tristan nods. “I don’t know why you guys can’t work this out. Whatever happened between you was a long time ago. You’re both different people now. No matter what you might think, the two of you have a lot in common.”
“I tried to talk to him, Tristan. I really did, but he was so—so arrogant and condescending.” Thinking about his behavior fires up my temper again.
“Deep down, he’s a good guy. You have no idea the things he does to help people,” he says, reminding me of Cam’s charity work. My anger recedes to a slow simmer.
“I found out about the domestic violence shelters,” I say. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs. “Not my place. His employees are required to sign non-disclosures concerning his personal life and our jobs. If you want to know something about Cam, ask him. He’s very candid about his past and his work.”
“You really like him, don’t you?”
“I’ve known him a long time. He’s more family to me than my blood relatives. I’d trust him with my life.” His arm tightens around my waist as he guides me through the crowded dance floor. I follow his lead, moving automatically, while my mind churns.
“He’s done some terrible things.”
Tristan studies my face before speaking. “Can you blame him? The odds have been stacked against him since birth. Despite everything, he’s managed to succeed. Maybe he walked over a few people to get there, but it’s no worse than anything my father did or yours. At least he’s committed to making the world a better place.”
We fall silent as I contemplate Tristan’s words. Cam has had every disadvantage in life. He was born to a murderer, lost his mother and sister to violence, had no money, no help. Even with these caveats, he used the few gifts he was given to forge an empire.
The slow song comes to an end. We walk back to my friends, but Tristan pulls me aside before we reach them. “Put in a good word for me with Sydney, will you?”
There’s no chance for matchmaking. The music swells. Sydney and Venetia scream and clutch each other. “This is our song! We’ve got to dance. Come on, you guys.”
They’ve known each other forever. I’m envious of their friendship. They drag me to the dance floor. Their enthusiasm is infectious. We dance for what seems like hours. I force myself to ignore Cam. We’re less than nothing to each other. His behavior has proven it time and time again. Instead, I let myself get lost in the thumping bass and driving beat of song after song. A cute young man in his twenties joins us. He puts his hands on my hips, grinding against my bottom. He’s talented with the moves, and I fall easily into the beat until suddenly he’s gone, and a pair of icy, blue eyes stare down at me.
Cam slides an arm around my waist and yanks me against his chest. With a practiced twist of his arm, he spins me out and back again. His knee slides between mine so I’m straddling his leg. We’re locked together now, swaying in time to the music. He stares into my eyes. The crowd falls away, leaving the two of us alone. I’m propelled backward through time to a place where he meant everything to me. I remember loving him more than life, counting the days until I could be with him in New York, aching for his touch.
Perspiration trickles between my breasts. I lift my hair with one hand to cool my neck, placing the other on Cam’s chest. He’s big and virile and moves with sinful grace. The women around us stare in envy, but he only has eyes for me. A coil of need tightens deep in my belly.
At the end of the song, he threads his fingers through mine and drags me toward one of the private alcoves. I follow, a tad inebriated, and too stunned to protest. The alcove is dark and deep, couching us in shadows, hiding us from view. He crowds me against the wall, placing one hand on the plaster beside my head, the other on my waist.
“You never asked me why.” It’s the first thing he’s said to me all night. The rough timbre of his voice rattles through my chest.
“Why what?” Having him so close destroys coherent thought. His cologne drifts between us, spicy and sweet, drugging my senses.
“You never asked me about the women I slept with. You never gave me a chance to explain. Everyone in my life has let me down at one time or another, but you? You were the only person I ever trusted, Vanessa. I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you when I got back that morning.” His hand skates up my ribs, cups my breast then climbs to my throat. Fear saps the strength from my legs. Not that he’ll strangle me, but that I was wrong to run out on him, to deny him the chance to come clean. “Once we started seeing each other, I dropped all my clients. I worked three jobs to pay the rent. I was just waiting for the right time to discuss it with you, because I knew you’d be upset.”
“What was I supposed to think? My name was in your book. And there were so many others.” Even after all these years, I’m still jealous of the women who used his body for their pleasure.
“But you were the only one who mattered. Ever. Then and now.”
His lower lip trembles. The tiny display of vulnerability cracks my heart in two. I want to throw my arms around him, comfort him, make his pain go away. It hurts even more knowing that I betrayed him.
“You should have told me sooner.”
“You should have waited. Why did you have to marry him?” He pushes away and runs a hand through his hair, as if collecting his willpower. The line of his jaw squares. “You didn’t trust me then, and I can’t trust you now.”
With a shake of his dark head, he walks away. I watch him leave, feeling the pain of our breakup all over again.
29
Cam
Today
After the run-in with Vanessa at Dystopia, I’m too rattled to sleep. A glass of bourbon does nothing to help. I toss and turn in the hotel bed until I hear the door across the hall open and close. It’s her. Knowing she’s so close, yet completely unattainable renews my frustration.
Two minutes later, there’s a tentative knock on the door, so faint I think I’m imagining it. When the second knock happens, I’m on my feet, ready to give someone a piece of my mind.
Vanessa barrels over the threshold. She’s still in her sweet little dress, barefoot. I scrub a hand over my face. Am I dreaming? This can’t be real.
“Always have to get in the last word, don’t you?” I ask.
“It’s a Seaforth thing,” she replies. Her cheeks are flushed, breasts heaving. Damn if she isn’t even prettier when she’s mad.
“Yeah, well, I’ve had enough of the Seaforths for one night.” Curiosity stops me from throwing her out. I stare down at her, wondering why I can’t let her go, even after all these years.
“I know this is crazy, but—”
I don’t give her a chance to finish. I shove her against the wall, pinning her arms above her head, and take her mouth. No holds barred. No prisoners. The burn of vodka peppers her tongue. She pushes her hips into mine.
“Fuck,” I mutter. There’s no point in fighting against the pull any longer. I pick her up. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I walk her to my bedroom.
“Just for tonight, let’s forget we’re enemies,” she says against my lips.
“Anything you say, princess.” I toss her onto the bed. She bounces and crabwalks up the mattress. In one fluid motion, she hauls her dress over her head and throws it across the room. I struggle out of my shirt, shove down my pants, and lunge for her mouth.
We’re savage and primal, like two furious lions mating. Her nails rake down my back. I twist her hair around my wrist and yank her head to the side so I can suck on the flesh of her neck. Heat radiates off her tight little body. The lace of her bra feels textured beneath my palm. I drag down one of the bra cups, nuzzle her nipple with my nose then draw it into my mouth. She hisses and arches her back.
I want to ravish her, punish her for every sin she’s committed. All this time, I thought it was over between us when I was really waiting for someone to replace her. Now, I know it’s impossible. She’s one of a kind.
My hands smooth over her torso, remembering, savoring every inch, the full curve of her hips, the soft skin of her thighs. I grab her ankles and jerk them apart, preparing to drive into her, overcome with the need to conquer and claim.
“Condom. Condom,” she pants.
Jesus, what’s wrong with me? Never, in my life, have I had unprotected sex, but I was about to take her bare. I fumble through the drawer of the nightstand until I find a foil packet. She takes it from me, ripping the wrapper with her teeth. Together we slide the latex over my length.
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 101