Collecting Secrets (Friends & Lovers Book 1)

by PE Kavanagh

  She moved toward the door, but he took her arm. “There’s one more thing, dear.”

  A brick dropped in the bottom of her gut. “Yes, sir.”

  “This thing with you and Jackson…”

  Her face began to warm.

  “I love my son, and I’m proud of all he has achieved. I’m just not sure…”

  Camille sealed her lips shut.

  “I’m not sure he’s husband material.”

  Camille could not hold back a gasp. “Sir, we have just begun a relationship. It’s not-”

  “That’s what I mean, Camille. He has created a certain lifestyle for himself, to my dismay. You deserve better than that. I would hate for my son to do anything that would hurt you.”

  Camille opened her mouth to speak, but her body shook so badly, she couldn’t manage a single word. A thread of terror wrapped itself around her throat. There was nothing good about what Jackson’s father had just said to her, whether it was true or not.

  “I hope you can take this in the spirit it was given. I really care about you, Camille. I only want the best for you.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Camille brought her hand to the cool brass knob, turned it to open the door and stepped out of the room.

  * * *

  Jackson took her hand as they drove home. He had not stopped sneaking looks at her. “What’s going on, love? You look upset.”

  “I’m so tired. That’s all.”

  “What happened with my father?” She could tell he was working to keep his voice calm.

  “He’s investing in a company he wants me to work for.”

  “Still with that? He’s the only person on the planet who thinks that working at Google isn’t good enough.”

  “He did make a point. I can’t deny that I’m in a position that I could take big career risks without the fear of being homeless.”

  “Because of your inheritance?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But that doesn’t mean you should. Not everyone is suited for that. Maybe you’re super happy at Google. Maybe you enjoy being part of a globally impacting company, as opposed to working out of some kid’s garage.”

  “Yeah…” Camille’s head was spinning so fast, she had no idea what she wanted.

  * * *

  Camille hardly slept, so disturbed by Jonathan’s statements about his own son. How dare he? She knew better than to bring it up with Jackson until she could do it without emotion. His rage would be bad enough, without her adding to it.

  She woke up to find him gazing at her. “You look exhausted, love.” He ran his fingers across her brow. “How about I cook you dinner tonight, we eat in our pajamas, and get an early night?”

  “That sounds perfect, honey. You always know what I need.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  When she returned home after work to find her apartment cleaned, and smelling like an Italian restaurant, she almost forgot the burden she had been carrying all day. Jackson greeted her with a deep kiss and an extended hug.

  She softened in his arms. “I could get used to this.”

  “Please do.”

  “So, you’re going to quit that pesky professor job and just be my houseboy?”

  “You have no idea how much I’m considering that idea. And we have all summer to actually test it out first, don’t we?”

  Even though it had been years, Camille consistently forgot that Jackson had the summers off. Unlike most of his peers, who had to teach classes and push brutal publishing schedules, his fame and the resultant attention it gave the university allowed him much more flexibility.

  “It looks like you spent the whole day cooking and cleaning.” The degree to which he had worked on her apartment became evident as she looked around. No one would ever accuse her of being a neat-nick. And her place almost gleamed.

  “No. It didn’t take that long. I actually got through all of the edits on the new book. All that great sex has definitely fueled efficiency in me.”

  “Glad to help.”

  He brought two glasses of red wine from the kitchen. “Unless you’re starving, let’s sit down for a minute. I have a couple of things I want to run by you.”

  As do I. “I’m going to change, okay?”

  “Can I watch?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Good point.” He followed her into the bedroom.

  It felt so good to kick off her shoes and peel the layers off. Her work environment was casual, but she had decided to always dress professionally. It was hard enough to be taken seriously as a young, attractive woman. She wanted everyone to understand she was very serious about her job.

  He watched her get undressed with a sweet smile on his face. “How was work, love?”

  “Fine. Normal Monday. Your Dad sent me his analysis on that new company, so I spent some time going over it. I have to say their technology was very impressive. I might consider working with them.”

  “Really?” He did not look altogether pleased.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Are you ever going to tell me what really happened with my father?”

  Camille slipped on her favorite sleep shirt, unconcerned with its complete lack of sexiness. “You’re not going to like it.”

  “I figured.”

  “You didn’t press me on it last night. I appreciate that.”

  “I know you, Camille. I’m not always going to get it right, but I hope I can more often than not make choices that honor how you want to be treated.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to be face to face. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

  “Not recently.”

  “Have I shown you how much I love you?”

  His eyes widened. “Cam…”

  Her hands moved swiftly to the button of his jeans, then the zipper, then his black boxers. He pulled his t-shirt off, then helped her with the shirt she had just put on. She pushed him back on the bed, crawled up to meet him, and put his already stiff cock deep into her mouth.

  “Aaaaah…” he growled.

  There was nothing delicate or demure about how she owned the whole of him, sucking, licking and tonguing every part of him. She cupped his balls, pressed the area just behind them, and gripped him as if she was holding on for balance. She did not pause or slow her relentless pace until he erupted into the back of her throat.

  Camille dropped her head on his stomach, panting from the exertion.

  “Holy fuck, Camille. Please tell me you haven’t always been able to do that.”

  She lifted her head. “What?”

  “Come up here.” He hooked under her shoulders and pulled her up to him. “I might have to change my previous statement about it being a good thing that we waited, if this is something you were capable of back then.”

  “Don’t be silly, Jackson. That’s the first blowjob I’ve ever given.”

  He gave her bottom a smack that sounded throughout the room. “I’m going to ignore the sarcasm and tell you that that was amazing. But perhaps you already knew that.”

  She twirled her fingers around the small collection of hairs in the center of his chest, snuggled her head into his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, he was hovered on top of her. She bent her knees to open herself more for him, and shifted her hips to position him at her opening.

  He entered her slowly in small pulses while her body relaxed enough to take him in. She loved the feeling of tightness, the stretching, the pressure of him finding his way inside her.

  She looked up at him, a man in complete control of himself and his environment. There was no sign she could give that he wouldn’t record and utilize, possibly no emotion she would feel that he wouldn’t recognize and respond to. She closed her eyes, unable to focus in the swarm of delights. He was gentle with her, knowing that she was probably still tender, and perhaps knowing that it was perfect for her body and her emotional state.

  When her
breathing accelerated and her groans deepened, he lengthened the strokes. Staying up on one hand, he slipped the other underneath her bottom and brought himself even deeper. This tipped her into the rolling waves of the most buttery orgasm she had ever felt, free of fever and spikes, all languorous slow release.

  She opened her eyes to find him exploring her face with his eyes, full of wonder and awe. “Oh, Camille. I cannot handle how beautiful you are.” He kissed her with a delicateness unexpected after what they just shared.

  When he pulled out of her and lay to one side, she curled into his body. She was wide awake.

  “Tell me about my father.”

  “Jackson, I don’t want to ruin this moment. Why don’t you tell me your news.”

  “I’m thinking of taking a sabbatical.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Jackson!”

  “The idea’s been bouncing around for a while. The next book is nearly done, there’ll be a book tour, media, all that. And I’ve already got an idea for the next book.”

  “But you’ve always done that while still keeping your position.”

  “I know, but I’ve been wondering if I really need to. If I could just write, do some speaking and lecturing, that would be perfect. And frankly, I want to create space in my life for you.”

  A tickle of fear lodged itself at the base of her throat. She waited for it to pass. “Jack, I would never second guess your perspective. You’ve built a remarkable career from nothing. I just don’t want you to make these huge life decisions based on the last week of your life.”

  He turned to face her. “There’s something about that that bothers me, Cam. Are you telling me to wait and see how it goes with us?”

  Sometimes it was hard to have a conversation with someone who was so damn literal. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. But it’s not because I have doubts about us, it’s just we don’t know how it’s going to look. How we’re going to split our time and-”

  “What did my father say to you, Camille?”

  Fuck. There was no use hiding it anymore. “Please don’t think it has any relevance. I know you’re going to draw a thread between the events that just isn’t there.”

  “Spill it.”

  She swallowed. “Mostly, he talked about wanting me to take more risk with my career. Go work for a startup.”

  “And?”

  “He said that he wasn’t sure you were husband material, and that your past behavior might make you an unsuitable match for me.” She wanted to be sick.

  His expression did not change one millimeter, which was the scariest thing she had ever seen. Abruptly, he got up and walked out of the bedroom. She followed him, watching as he took his phone off the kitchen counter, clicked a few buttons and put it up to his ear.

  “Dad? Hi, it’s Jackson. Fine, thanks.”

  His voice was like a blade. “I just wanted to let you know that I know what you said to Camille. I understand that there’s something about me that has always rubbed you the wrong way, but to sabotage the best thing that has ever happened to me has crossed a line I can’t come back from. Please consider this goodbye. I will no longer be part of your life.”

  With an eery calmness, he put the phone back down on the granite counter and turned to Camille. “Ready for dinner?”

  Chapter 11

  Camille recoiled at the look on Jackson’s face. Icy calm was his highest expression of rage, something she’d seen only once or twice in their ten years of friendship. He’d just hung up the call with his father and hadn’t addressed her confession at all. What his father had said was inexcusable. But was she going to be blamed for it?

  “Jackson, please come back in here. Let’s talk about this.”

  “Not right now, honey. I’m starving. You must be too.”

  He moved efficiently through the kitchen, gathering plates, utensils, and platters. He set the table, put all the food out, and sat down while she stood frozen in the bedroom doorway, growing more and more concerned.

  “Come, sit down, Cam. The food’s getting cold.”

  She grabbed a robe from the back of the door and did as she was told. “Jackson…”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. The other reason for the sabbatical is that the next book is going to require a ton of research. I’m looking at the mindset of longevity in intimate relationships. And I was hoping you would help me with it.”

  Camille struggled to hold back the tears burning across her temples. He would never have stated this so casually if he was in his right mind.

  He continued. “But now, I think it’s probably best if I just quit outright. I mean, I really only got that job to impress my father, so he could say, ‘My son teaches at Stanford’, instead of being constantly embarrassed that I only write pop psychology books with no intellectual value.”

  She reached out and touched her fingertips to his forearm. He looked down at her hand, as if it had appeared from a different planet. Then she noticed the quake in his shoulders and the cloudiness in his eyes. Camille pushed out of her chair and pulled his head into her body. The move released the last of the hold he had, and he exploded into her, shaking and sobbing. She stroked his hair, whispered to him, and held on.

  They went straight to bed after dinner, even though it was barely 9pm. He laid his head on her chest.

  Her heart broke for him. “Jackson, you’ve always been the strongest person I know. I want to help you through this, but I just don’t know what to do. I’m sorry. I wish I could be better at this.”

  “Cam, there’s nothing you need to do. This isn’t your problem.”

  She shifted his head to catch his eye. “Please don’t say that. Of course it’s my problem. Because something is hurting you. And I want to help.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? Goodnight, love.”

  She wondered when they were going to talk about it at all.

  Jonathan King was a bit of a legend in Silicon Valley. First as one of the hi-tech originals, then as a brilliant investor and the man behind many of the newest generation of success stories. He had the magic touch in technology. When he walked through the maze of one of the programming floors at Google, whispers followed him like a celebrity sighting. He appeared at Camille’s door, just as his son had several years before. What was with these King men, thinking that they could just show up at her place of work?

  “Mr. King.”

  He placed his hands on the back of the chair meant for visitors. And for sitting. “We have a problem, Camille.”

  “I know. I’m sorry about what happened. It just wasn’t right for me to keep a secret from Jackson-”

  “It’s fine. I should have known. Now, the only question is, how are we going to fix it?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “We?”

  His attention moved to the mess on her desk. “Clearly, I need your help to make a case with my son. He refuses to communicate. It’s been days. I’m sure you can talk some sense into him.”

  Camille tried to inconspicuously bring the scattered papers into a neat stack. “I appreciate you coming all the way down here, but there’s no way I can get in the middle. This is between you and your son, and anything I might do would look like taking sides. I really don’t want to do that.”

  He took one step back. “I’m disappointed by that, Camille.”

  She steeled herself for some further elaboration or a repeat of the request. Instead, he stood silent.

  Camille watched one of the assistants approach the office, stop abruptly, and turn around. There was no winning a stand-off against Jonathan King, who was nearly as hard to refuse as his son. “Alright. Let me talk to him and see what can be done.”

  “That sounds fine. Thank you.” His expression snapped from steely to smiling.

  “Mr. King?”

  “Yes, dear.” Even the tone of his voice softened. This was how she was used to him - kind, caring, even a tiny bit sweet.

  “I suggest being honest with Jackson. For whatever reason, he’s fel
t rejected by you his whole life. I think this was his last straw. Perhaps figuring out why he had that idea, and how you can convince him otherwise, would be a good start.”

  He nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Jonathan patted the back of the chair before walking out of the office. Camille fell back into her chair, heart pounding, wondering how her life had all of a sudden become theatrical.

  * * *

  Camille waited two days to bring up the issue. She hoped Jackson would have changed his mind and offered to talk about it. He never did.

  She approached him at his desk in the spare room furiously typing on his computer. She put her hands on his shoulders. “Your dad came to see me. A couple days ago.”

  He didn’t stop typing. “Yes. He’s been sending me messages. Wants to talk.” He looked up at her. “I’m disappointed it took you this long to tell me. I didn’t realize we were keeping secrets.”

  Now everyone was disappointed.

  Camille shook her head. “I waited because I thought time would provide some perspective. You can’t just pretend nothing is happening. And it’s going to be very difficult to avoid your father for the rest of your life.”

  “I do difficult things all the time.” The gravel of his voice was full of rage and spite.

  She took her hands off him and stepped back. “Are you angry with me?”

  He turned to face her. “I’m frustrated. I’ve told you I don’t want to discuss this with you, and I certainly don’t want you involved, but you keep pushing it.”

  Her heart pounded in her ears. “Why don’t you want me involved?”

  “You and my Dad have some weird thing. I don’t know if he wants you or pities you or something else. But clearly you don’t see straight about each other.”

  The last threads of her compassion and control burst into flames. “You have no right, Jackson. You have no fucking right!”

  She stormed into the bedroom to gather her things, her entire body pulsing with rage. That was the single cruelest thing he had ever said to her. She could hardly recognize the man she thought she knew so well. It wasn’t even clear whose clothes she was shoving into her bag. She just needed to get out of there.