Penthouse Prince

by Nelson, Virginia

  The bank of elevators loomed, and she stopped before the doors, remembering her first trip up to his private world. In an almost ironic parallel, a group of banker-looking people gathered around her, waiting for their ride up. She almost smiled at the memory of that fateful day. It seemed so long ago, but then she’d been a different person at that point.

  The doors opened, and she stepped inside. In moments, she was surrounded by the banker-types, so she stared at the gleaming brass. The blurry reflection in the polished metal didn’t look much like the frizzy haired girl who’d tried to save her job. Her stomach still flipped with a blend of panic and dread, only barely spiced with dregs of hope, but her mask of composure didn’t reveal it—also thanks to practicing hiding what she felt when she’d been with Camden.

  A slight shift in the floor signaled they’d arrived, then the doors swished open. Her heart raced as she lifted her chin, but she didn’t need the illusion of the group to get where she was going.

  The marbled floor, slick under her low heels, led into a conference room to the left and an office on the right. The men filed in to the left, and she smiled at the guy in front of her when he turned and caught sight of her. If she was correct, it might have been the same man who held the chair out for her on the day she’d met Camden. She shook head at her own reminiscing and turned the knob on the office, not bothering to knock. She breezed past the secretary and inside, to where Lowe waited.

  “Lowe, you said you were going to finalize the paperwork, but I wanted to talk to you.” Facing him, actually seeing his model-perfect features again, brought it all back in a way that squeezed her heart. She would rather have talked to Camden, but she’d decided this route would be the best way to gain the Penthouse Prince’s attention. Surely, as a dedicated businessman, he’d appreciate her using legalities rather than an emotional display to make her point.

  “Jeanie, how have you been? I’ve been worried, but I didn’t want to overstep…” His dark brows initially startled upward at her barging in, but now quickly scrunched in concern. He came around the desk, slung an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her farther into the office. He shoved the door closed. “What did you want to talk about?”

  She relaxed into his embrace for a second, then sucked in a jagged breath. “About the paperwork—”

  A soft knock snared her attention, but the visitor didn’t wait to be called in. The door opened and revealed Camden pushing past Lowe’s secretary. Behind him, she could see the boardroom door also stood open, and the men inside peered curiously across the hall. His father stood at the head of the table, just visible from her vantage. The older man didn’t look pleased to see her.

  For a moment, all the air seemed to be sucked from the room, suspending Jeanie in a vacuum. Camden looked so good, so damned perfect, and she wanted to run to him. To ask him if he’d missed her, thought of her, to see if he smelled the same.

  To confess she loved him. And if he didn’t love her? It didn’t matter. She’d take his caring, if that was all he had to offer, so long as it meant she could be with him.

  She didn’t say any of it. Emotions clogged her throat to the point that she couldn’t breathe past the ball of them no matter how many times she swallowed. She’d already been down that road. Now she knew better.

  “Hey, Lowe, I thought I saw—” Camden’s words snapped to a halt when his cobalt gaze rested on her. Like clouds chased across the sky by fast winds, expressions flitted across his face while she watched. “You’re here.” He practically whispered the words, yet each one seemed to echo in her mind with a jarring resonance.

  She couldn’t seem to slow her heart. Adrenaline pumped through her system with each beat and left her restless. She searched for the words that would answer him without admitting he’d hurt her. Her mind seemed trapped on a loop, repeating their time together until she viewed everything differently.

  Even when he’d acted as if what they shared didn’t matter, how many times had she seen his hands tightened to fists as if to resist touching her? Then, when he had touched her, the fine tremors that had shaken his fingertips, as if he were touching something precious?

  He might not ever call it love, but she’d had time to decide which mattered more—a man willing to say he loved her or one who showed it in a hundred ways but couldn’t say the words.

  He slid into motion first, crossing the floor to stand in front of her. Murmurs from behind him suggested the members of the board and his father hadn’t stayed in the boardroom and instead had come out to see the rest of the show.

  She opened her mouth, sure she’d find the right words this time.

  He held up a single hand. His gaze darted behind him, then focused on her. “Can you give me a second?” he asked.

  She blinked, startled, and then nodded jerkily. Of all the things she’d imagined he might say when they were face to face again, him asking for a second and basically putting her off hadn’t been a possibility.

  He loosened his tie, seemed to brace himself before facing the men behind him. “Dad, I’m going to be honest and admit the whole relationship with Jeanie was faked. I hired her to pretend to be my fiancée when I heard Tasha got caught cheating in Cannes.”

  “I knew it,” his father practically crowed.

  “That said?” Camden continued, his brow arched and posture lacking any defeat. “I’ve never believed in love, so there wasn’t even a possibility I’d have a real marriage when I hired her. You were right about me, everyone was. You paraded women in and out of my life, I’ve always felt that you killed my mother, and I’ve been entirely sure I wasn’t loveable, if such an emotion did exist. I was honestly sure love was a lie—something people used to explain biological and economical needs—and everything I saw proved me right.”

  Jeanie slumped a little, any pretended composure dragging under the weight of his declarations.

  “I’ve made it clear…” Camden paused and scanned the gathering employees and onlookers, “that I didn’t believe in love, and that anyone who claimed to was fooling themselves. So, yes, Dad, you were right. My engagement to Jeanie was fake, and my marriage was a lie. However, you’re a very intelligent man, Dad, so I’m sure you’ve noticed I used the past tense. You were right about me. My marriage was fake. But now you’re wrong.”

  His father grumbled, but Jeanie didn’t look at him, too intent to hear what Camden might say next.

  “At first, when I saw Jeanie, something clicked—I knew I had to convince her to pretend to be my fiancée. As time passed, I realized I loved her smile, the way she snarls at me, even her perfect moral compass—especially compared to my obviously broken one. I loved her smell, the way her hair looked in sunlight, and the way her eyes turned all mysterious at night. She saw me, really saw me, when no one else ever bothered to try. Little things, really, yet they built up.”

  Her hand seemed to move of its own volition, covering her mouth as if she could hold in the emotions threatening to spill out. Could he mean…?

  When he faced her, her tears erupted, streaming down her face. Even in front of his father and the members of the board, his mogul mask was gone. The tired man, the tender one, gazed at her—exposed to the room and vulnerable. “So, I’ve realized you’re wrong, Dad. About me, about what I want out of life, and more importantly about what matters most.”

  With a hiccup of a sob, her vision blurred. She scrubbed her hands against her eyes, not caring if she trashed her mascara, and blinked fast to clear her eyes.

  He reached for her hand, and she gave it to him, stunned when he dropped to one knee. “I thought you said if you ever knelt, I’d be the one begging,” she managed.

  “I didn’t do this right the first time, so I’m trying again.”

  “Camden—” she began.

  He touched a fingertip to her lips. “Shh. Let me do this right.”

  She couldn’t speak, hoping he might say the words she’d longed to hear.

  He shrugged. “It turns out I’m not alw
ays right. I’ve missed you. My life has been empty without you. I didn’t think I believed in love, and even if I had? I felt really certain I didn’t deserve you. You should have someone better, someone not as stubborn and maybe someone who isn’t as blind as I’ve been.” He looked down and then glanced past her toward Lowe’s office. “But dammit, I’m selfish, and I don’t want to lose you, even if you do deserve better. Will you marry me? In fact, not pretend, and be my wife, not the woman playing the part?”

  She knelt next to him, but he hadn’t released her hand. “Cam—”

  “Look, Jeanie, you left these behind, and I’ve kept them on my desk since you left. I get that I can’t buy your love and that I’m probably going to find new ways to screw things up. I get that I should have said all that instead of telling you I cared, but I didn’t. I can’t change any of that, but I love you, dammit. And you said that would be enough.”

  He squeezed her fingertips, and she opened her mouth to answer, but he interrupted her again. “Besides, I tried giving you everything I thought any woman would want. I made sure Kaycee was safe, planned everything and nothing went right. I tried everything except this—I love you. I don’t care why you stay with me, just don’t leave.”

  She clamped her hand over his mouth and snickered. “If you’d shut up, I could answer you. You don’t have to ask me to marry you, Penthouse Prince, because I’m already your wife. I wasn’t going to let you go. I love you, and my father always said that anything worth having is worth fighting for.” He leaned closer, and she met his lips in a quick brush before adding, “And I think you’re worth fighting for. I love you, Camden James.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  He hadn’t planned to propose in his offices, hadn’t planned to declare how he felt in front of his father, but it brought him a strange sense of peace to have done so. He’d looked at people who believed in love, who used that four-letter word, as weaker. It turned out that in practice, saying it gave him strength. He’d proclaim it on the cover of People magazine if she required it, because loving her could easily be called the best thing he’d ever done.

  When she said she found him worth fighting for, though, he wished they’d had a bit more privacy. Although slanting his lips across hers—the taste of her sweeter than water after being trapped in a desert—could never be considered less than satisfying, the cheers that erupted reminded him they weren’t alone. “Come home with me, wife,” he whispered.

  Her lip stuck out in a pout. “We are home, or one floor down anyway. You live in your office, rich kid.”

  “Good point,” he agreed. With her lip sticking out that way, he remembered their first meeting and his curiosity over how her mouth would taste. Now that he knew, for a fact, it tasted wonderful, his body stirred to life. He scooped her into his arms and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m taking the rest of the day off, so hold my calls.” The cheer roared back to life, muted as the elevator doors closed behind them.

  Her eyes were still a bit puffy from crying, but her smile lit up parts of him he hadn’t realized were dark. “Oh, you think you’re clever, Mr. James.”

  “I know I’m clever.”

  The doors whispered open, and he strode to his rooms and headed for the sitting room facing the bay windows. He put her on her feet, then turned to lock the door.

  He led her to the seat where she’d spent the night in his arms. He sat and carefully replaced her wedding rings on her finger. Her soft sigh was a balm.

  He nodded, satisfied to see the rings back where they belonged, then tugged her off balance from her elegant heels so she landed in his lap, an exotic-scented bundle of woman he couldn’t seem to get enough of.

  “That’s better. I wanted to be alone with you. I’d come up with all these plans…but then I saw you and decided it would be now, here. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t get to give you the grand romantic gesture I owed you.”

  Her fingers toyed with his hair, and she relaxed into his embrace. “Did you have to wait a whole week…?” She trailed off and met his gaze with her emerald one.

  He pinched her ass, and he was pleased to see her squirm. “Hey, you left me, not the other way around.”

  The glint in her eye warned him before her nails dug into his scalp, and she moved to straddle him rather than sit across his legs. “I didn’t leave you—you’ve haunted me every moment.” A swivel of her hips made his chair squeak as she rubbed against his rock hard cock, and his breath stuttered out on a sigh. “I’ve missed you,” she confessed, voice breaking a little.

  He slid one hand up her waist and toyed with one nipple until it tightened sufficiently to poke out visibly beneath her bra and silky blouse. More interested in her eyes, he watched as they glazed in passion. He could spend the rest of his life simply watching her emotions drift like clouds across her expressive face.

  He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, and his tongue dampened her blouse to the point that he could see the dusky skin peeking through her lace demi cut. He leaned back and considered his handiwork. “I’ve missed you, too, and I’ve been putting a lot of thought into ways we can make this work. I told you I didn’t deserve you, and I don’t, but I’m going to do my best to make you happy, Jeanie.”

  She watched him closely as she streaked kisses over his chest. “I’ve been thinking quite a bit, too. I don’t want to be one of those rich wives who just sits around all day getting bits buffed and waxed. I’m going to deserve you, too, since I think you’re a lot more special than you give yourself credit for being.”

  “What do you want to do?” He freed the buttons on her blouse and pushed it from her shoulders. “Although I’ll happily buff and wax you all day if you change your mind.”

  “Well, I’ve always been good with numbers, which means I could do something in accounting—Oh.” As he tugged the bra down so he could give the hardened nipples more attention, she sighed, and her hips shifted again. “I’m not eliminating accounting entirely, but I think I want to do something to help children, if that doesn’t sound too ridiculous.”

  “Doesn’t sound ridiculous at all.” It seemed he’d craved just the sight of her. The taste and feel of her fried his ability to think. The thread of the conversation slid away as he focused on her reactions, not pleased until her thighs trembled around him and she cried out her building need. Her hands became frantic, as if his starving hunger for her was contagious and she’d been infected by proximity.

  His eager bride soon helped him strip her and they joined in desperation.

  Her cries became words. “Camden. God, I love you.”

  “And I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I love you, so damned much.” As they raced toward the peak of tension, he realized she’d given him the greatest gift he’d ever received. Her. His only remaining task was making up to her all the moments she should have had. Luckily, he had a lifetime to make up for his mistakes.

  Epilogue

  The morning of her vow renewal ceremony—or real wedding, as she’d come to think of it—dawned with a storm blowing in. Camden fluttered around, frustrated because, yet again…

  “I’ve planned the perfect romantic scene, and it’s going to shit.”

  Jeanie didn’t get concerned. One hand rested on the glass as she looked out on the beach and watched nature throw a tantrum. She knew it would be perfect because no storm had the power to ruin this day. After all, she was marrying her handsome prince.

  When the clouds finally broke up a little and the rain stopped, she lifted her skirt and walked out onto the sand. The wind caught her hair, tangling it, and the sand stuck to her dress where it dragged behind her. The sun hung low in the sky and would set soon, the storm delaying the time of their ceremony by a couple hours from when they planned to say their vows.

  Instead of the original plan, she got to be on the beach at sunset.

  “We’re not going to get any decent pictures.” The wry twist of Camden’s lips didn’t fool her. She understood most of
his worrying was because he wanted this to be a magical moment for her.

  “Quit worrying. It’s perfect. We don’t need pictures. I’m never going to forget this, are you?” He reached for her hand, and she squeezed their fingers together before pushing him away. “Go, be a groom. You’re supposed to stand over there.”

  The minister waited, book in hand, a serene look on her face.

  Camden’s dad came up behind her. He cleared his throat, and she turned to look at him. He was a jerk, a manipulator, and he was far from perfect, but his son’s choices seemed to have made him rethink his own life. He’d been present, a first according to Camden, and seemed to be trying to get to know his son. It didn’t hurt that he adored Kaycee, frustrating Camden with the easy affection he shared with the child—a direct opposite of Camden’s distant and cold childhood. Both men were learning to love, lessons no one picked up overnight.

  Lori snuck up behind the rich old man and pinched his butt as she passed to move to her position near the minister. Jeanie choked down a chuckle as the man adjusted his tie and collected his composure. “I meant to ask this sooner, but, well, I wasn’t sure how to broach the topic—”

  “Might want to speed this up a bit. My husband looks antsy.” She looked away from her husband, who faced them, arms crossed, waiting for her to cross the beach to his side. “Not to rush you, but you know how he gets.”

  The older man cleared his throat again and spoke softly. “I’m ever grateful for what you’ve done for my son. Since your father isn’t here to give you away, would you like me to do the honor? And I mean that, it would truly be my honor to give you to my son in marriage.”