Penthouse Prince

by Nelson, Virginia

  “So tomorrow we do it? We get married.”

  Again, she found herself unable to meet his gaze, so she focused on his collar as she nodded. The collar moved, and she realized he’d offered his hand. Shaking it awkwardly, she gnawed her lips until she’d ensured she regained the ability to speak without stammering. “Agreed. Tomorrow, we get married.”

  Once the words were spoken, she slipped her hand out of his and practically ran back to her room. Staring at the gown, still hanging in silent accusation, she bit down on her knuckle before moving back to the window to gaze into the night. “Oh, I hope I’m making the right choice.”

  The cityscape below, though, offered no answers.

  Chapter Twenty

  Camden watched the last dregs of night slip away as the red glow of the sky grew and, one by one, lights flicked off on the street below.

  Today is my wedding day.

  He’d hoped she would come to him in the dark. The light under her door never went out, not that he’d paced past it a dozen times through the night. He wondered what she was doing, how she spent her night before their vows. He’d held his hand up, ready to knock, and stopped himself a dozen times, but he didn’t quite have the courage to knock.

  Today, he’d marry the woman of his dreams, who came with a child he cared about and who made him smile. They’d walk down the aisle, exchange vows…

  And then what?

  He’d get the shares, cutting his father out of a controlling position in the company. Revenge for the fact his mother suffered from depression for years and eventually buried herself in a bottle to escape her philandering husband seemed like a hollow victory. It wouldn’t bring his mother back. It wouldn’t do anything except for prove, once and for all, that he could be a bigger bastard than his father.

  Whoopdie doo.

  He’d coordinated with Lowe to create a honeymoon trip—only the remainder of the weekend away, so they could get back to Kaycee—and the thought of being alone in a bedroom with her left him hard and throbbing. Would she want him to touch her, his purchased bride, or would she rebuke him?

  She wanted him, her body told him as much. If Lori hadn’t interrupted, they might have made love days ago…in an organic way, rather than an it’s our honeymoon and we should probably have some sex now sort of way. Did he want her to submit to him simply because he put a wedding ring on her finger?

  He wanted her to want him. He wanted the full breadth of her devotion, her love, her protectiveness to umbrella over him. He wanted her crying out his name, begging him for release he would wait to give her…until she lay boneless and trembling.

  He wanted a lot of things, and none of them involved a quickie wedding to satisfy an edict from his father.

  Sipping a bottle of water—because he wouldn’t shame her by being drunk on their wedding day, but was already too jittery to need coffee—he wished she’d come to him. That they could talk, alone. Maybe he’d find the words to make her understand…

  No words came to mind. But he felt sure they would, if she came to him. If she walked in the room right then and moved to the window to twine her soft arms around his waist…

  Wishing didn’t make her appear.

  Today is my wedding day, and I’m getting everything I thought I wanted.

  But behind that came a more sobering thought.

  And nothing that will make me happy.

  …

  She’d dozed off somewhere near dawn. There was, after all, only so long she could cry. Moving to her window, she gazed out, wondering if he stood somewhere in the house doing the same thing. The wedding gown still hung, a beacon of white symbolizing both so much and so little all in one flowing white confection.

  A soft knock at the door made her spin.

  Maybe it’s Camden. Maybe he’s changed his mind, or realized how big a mistake this could be…

  “Come in,” she said.

  “Hey, how are you holding up?” Lori peeked in, her hair unfettered around her cheeks.

  Jeanie breathed out a sigh and headed into the bathroom. “I’m getting ready. Should be ready for the pre-wedding breakfast shortly. If you want to head downstairs to the coffee shop, and grab me a gallon or two of espresso, that would be swell. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Normal to be jittery on your wedding day,” Lori advised. “Why, when I married my Danny—”

  “See, that’s the thing. You were getting married. I’m faking it.” She couldn’t hide the frustration in her tone, and she braced her hands against the counter. Lori touched her shoulder, and she met the older woman’s dark, calm eyes in the glass with her bloodshot, puffy ones.

  “Is it fake? Once you say the words and sign the paper, doesn’t it become real? Hasn’t it—?”

  “I’m not up to playing Pollyanna today, Lori. But the coffee? That would rock.”

  Lori shook her head, sadness warring with her usually unflappable expression. “It will all work out. I’m sure of it. That boy doesn’t look at you like he’s playing a part.”

  The door closed behind Lori with a soft click, and Jeanie blinked back a fresh wave of tears. Apparently, she still had some crying left in her after all. Of course Camden didn’t look like he was acting. What kind of actor revealed he was playing a part?

  Stepping into the shower, she just hoped she’d manage to keep up her end of the deal for the day. One more day and he’d have his shares.

  Then what?

  She couldn’t begin to speculate about what he planned to do once they were tied ‘til death do they part, nor did she want to.

  …

  The pre-wedding breakfast had been planned by his father as one last chance for everyone to crowd them with congrats. Even knowing her part, Jeanie couldn’t resist sipping the mimosas with a bit more enthusiasm than normal.

  She wondered if she could drink her way into a stupor, thereby erasing this day from her memory.

  A throat cleared behind her, and she turned, trying not to dribble the sweet drink. “Yes?”

  Gray-haired, stoic, condemnation in every inch of his rich frame, Camden’s father glared at her. “You’re seriously going to go through with this?”

  Pitched low enough that no one would hear his words but her, and yet she looked around, just to make sure no one overheard him. “Hello, sir. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to get to know each other better before—”

  “Drop the act. I brought your mother.”

  His words sent ice to wash over her skin, chilling her to the bone. “My—”

  One sidestep revealed Calliope stood behind Camden’s father, her smile absolutely triumphant.

  “Yes, your mother. She told me all about your little scam to steal your sister away. Fitting, I guess, that a liar and manipulator chose my son, but his participation in this ruse has gone on long enough. I’m demanding you back down before you’ve taken this too far. You’re in over your head.”

  She swallowed and shook her head slowly. Lord only knew what lies her mother had filled his head with. This was just the sort of thing she’d worked so hard for years to avoid. Now? Calliope stood there with a man who had the power to mess with Camden’s world, not to mention Kaycee’s.

  “Did you hear me, girl? I want you to nix this little wedding before it happens. I know my son is a fool, but this is fresh even for him. I think we both know how much damage I can do to your reputation with just a word to the press, not to mention what damage your mother can do. Tell my idiotic son you’re backing out.” The man adjusted his suit. He looked like he was secure in his position.

  He shouldn’t look so certain. “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “I think I made myself perfectly clear.”

  “Yeah, you really did, didn’t you? Your son is neither an idiot nor a fool. A simple Google search shows how you ran this company into the ground, too busy cheating on your wife—who suffered from depression, you ass—to pay attention to the fact your board was robbing you blind. It wasn’t until my fiancé, your son, too
k over that you made it back into the black. Since then, you’ve done everything you could to undermine Camden. He’s not a fool or an idiot, sir, and your disrespect of the man I plan to marry cannot be tolerated. I’m all about respecting my elders and would be happy to show you the respect you deserve as his father…if it wasn’t for the fact you aren’t acting like a father any more than you acted like a husband. So you can—”

  The hand sliding around her waist a moment before his lips grazed her ear left her flushing in embarrassment on top of righteous fury. “Dad? Ah, and Calliope.” Camden’s voice sounded calmer than she felt, and she relaxed into his embrace, facing off as a unit against their parents.

  “Camden.” His father had the grace to shift from foot to foot, looking slightly ashamed, perhaps, that he’d cornered her. “I just wanted a word with your bride after I was—”

  “Lied to by a woman I already warned. Yeah, got that. Calliope, you and I discussed the repercussions of another attempt to blackmail my bride.” Tsking, he shook his head. “Luckily, I advised my lawyers and my PR specialists this would happen. I’ve taken steps against you. By the way, a temporary order of emergency custody has been issued to Jeanie already. You should be getting a copy today, if I understand all the ins and outs. Since the medical records verify, and multiple witnesses are willing to appear and testify, that Jeanie has maintained custody for years while you collected government checks intended for your child, I’m sure you’ll want to contact a lawyer.” He smiled at Jeanie. “I’d forgotten to mention it, darling. Please consider it an early wedding present.”

  His words sank into her brain. “You knew?” she whispered.

  “She made the mistake of trying to come to me when you’d not fallen into her latest round of lies. Big mistake. Huge.” He placed a kiss on her neck before lifting his head to his father. “And you’re a batty old fool to fall for her bullshit. I saw through it in a blink. You’re losing your touch, old man. Then again, you never could tell the difference between a real woman and a manipulator. Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s our wedding day.”

  He spun her away. She leaned close to him and whispered, “You fixed it?”

  “Yup.”

  “Camden, wait.” His father’s words caused tension to lock up Camden’s body, the tight muscles obvious to her as he continued to hold her close.

  “Camden?” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry.” The words shook, and she turned to see his father’s face—to see if his tone matched his expression. With his defenses down, the man looked more like his son than any time she’d seen him over the past weeks. “I keep doubting you, but it’s because I want more for you. I don’t want you to end up like your mother.”

  Camden shook, fury cutting stark lines into his handsome face. “Don’t you speak of her.”

  “You were a kid, son. You didn’t realize… She had a sickness, and it gobbled up her world in huge bites. I tried to keep you away from it, had to separate myself from it or be drawn into the darkness with her. We didn’t understand depression back then, not like they do today with their pill for everything. She drank, she wallowed…the weakness of it—”

  “Don’t. You. Speak. Of. Her.” Camden took a step forward, no longer keeping his voice hushed, and guests began to turn, to consider them.

  Jeanie squeezed his arms, causing the cobalt of his gaze to shift her way. “It’s not worth it,” she whispered. “He’s not worth it. Walk away.”

  “Don’t attempt to interrupt a family discussion, girl. This is between my son and—”

  The words were the wrong ones for his father to choose, and she recognized it, even though she’d only known Camden for a relatively short period of time. “She is my family, father. If you’ll be so kind as to remember, today is our wedding. She will be my wife. She is my family. And you? You walked away a long time ago.”

  With that, Camden pulled her away, leaving the ghosts of their past together, while he led her to the elevator.

  …

  He’d fled to his penthouse, but there was no escaping the ghosts of his past.

  Damn it. He should’ve expected the attack from his father, but even if he’d expected it, he wouldn’t have prepared for Jeanie to come to his defense. Her reaction touched him—no one ever tried to fight his battles for him.

  They’d parted ways, and Jeanie’d left the penthouse to go where he didn’t bother to guess, but likely to prepare for the wedding.

  Refusing to admit he was waiting for her to return, he paced at the windows and kept an ear out for the elevator anyway. When it dinged, he didn’t turn away from the window. Lowe, probably, stopping to make sure he was okay. He wasn’t okay. He wasn’t forgiving…

  Then her scent reached him. Exotic, delicate, smelling like home to him, he tilted his head back to soak it up. She’d come to him.

  On his turf, his lair as she’d jokingly called it. He stilled, hoping she’d pass him by and go to her rooms, since he was in no shape to talk to her. Not when his feelings were this close to the surface and before he’d had time to really stuff them down. Her hand closed on his arm, and he snapped his eyes closed, sucking in a breath. He didn’t want to talk to her, to fill the air with more plans and discussions. He simply wanted to taste her.

  Part of him, some rational part separate from the more animalistic bit that currently had the wheel of his emotions, pointed out he should tell her to go get ready for the wedding. Warn her, even, that he wasn’t wearing his polite face, not right then, and that his control had worn very, very thin from fighting his attraction to her.

  The thought of those long days and nights of resisting—of walking away when he only wanted to take everything she so causally offered with her kisses and responses—drowned out the rational voice. He ached for her, and she was here.

  He opened his eyes and focused on her.

  She was standing so close with that single hand resting on his arm. “I’m sorry about what happened down there,” she said. “I just wanted to tell you—”

  Whatever she wanted to tell him didn’t matter, not now. To stop the flow of her words, he spun and captured her waist, lifting her as he turned her to push her against the wall. All she managed was a tiny squeak of sound before he’d captured her lips with his own.

  For a moment—a single, horrible moment while he worried she’d not respond, that she’d reject him or push him away—she didn’t move as he teased at the corners of her mouth, begging her silently to respond.

  Then she moaned, just a little, and her arms wrapped around his neck. He needed no further invitation, slanting his mouth across hers and releasing the grinding hunger which had plagued him since the whole illusion began.

  Her body, so warm and welcoming, curled into his, and he cupped her ass to increase the contact. As the kiss deepened, hunger giving into desperation, he spun her and carried her, one destination in mind.

  Upon reaching his bedroom, he kicked the door closed behind him, not willing to release her and let her come to her senses. If he was stealing moments with her, they’d be as many as he could get. Releasing her to slide down his body, he didn’t end the kiss, starved for the mysterious flavor of her and unwilling to lose even a second of the taste.

  She twisted away from his lips, breathing hard. He stilled and let go of her, and his hands clenched in fists. She’d walk away, he knew. He waited for the blow of her leaving.

  Instead, her fingers fought the buttons on his shirt, and he released the breath he hadn’t realized he held. He helped her remove his shirt, then reached for hers. They shed garments as they stumbled for the bed, and the little rational voice in his mind warned him to stop while he still could.

  If she’d haunted him before, these stolen moments and the actual knowledge of what her body felt like under his would be a hundred times worse. It was one thing to imagine how she’d feel coming apart under him and shouting his name. The torment of imagining would pale in comparison to the hell of knowing, for a fact, what he’d l
ost.

  But it didn’t matter, not really, not when she was here, she was his, and she’d chosen to stay.

  Finally revealing her flesh in the bright sunshine lit bedroom, he breathed out a little raggedly. Lovely. His bride-to-be was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. Stroking his hand down her flesh, he watched his fingers shake at the weight of the moment.

  And then he stopped thinking and sank into his fantasy come to life.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  They should talk about everything that happened. About where they wanted to go, about the coming wedding and the discussion with their parents. Logic suggested she stop him, stop herself, and insist on those conversations.

  Although she knew the wise choice was to slam the brakes on the madness overtaking her system, she wasn’t quite in the mood to care about wisdom. She always made the right choices, took the safe bets, did the things she should do. For just once, for a stolen moment in time, she wanted to risk it. She wanted him, and damn the consequences.

  She didn’t know why he’d spun on her, twisting his hand in her hair, and pinned her to the wall like a starving man who could no longer hold himself back. She didn’t care why, thrilled that he’d done it. She wrapped herself around him, determined to see this through and give herself over to her carnal side which demanded more flesh, more kissing, more everything.

  Dimly aware he carried her, she didn’t release his mouth, afraid if he came up for air, he’d rethink and realize what a horrible choice he’d made. That he’d reject her or slide on the cold mogul mask and deride her for giving in to him.

  When he closed the door to his bedroom with a click of the lock, her breath shuddered out. She pulled back, searching his face. If she saw even a hint of the sarcastically cold expression, she’d walk away and not stop.

  Instead of the icy chill of his distant mask, she saw his lips twisted in carnal need. His cobalt eyes were glazed with passion, and his fists clenched until his knuckles went white. It was as if he fought himself not to touch her and to allow her the moment she needed to escape him.