She stared at her reflection; she had a blank look on her face. Camille grabbed her brush, smoothing her flyaway hairs. She added a little lip-gloss to her lips and considered changing from her black slacks and v-neck sweater. She was dressed for comfort and after spending the day with Marc, it was too late to change now.
Camille had issues that were more pressing; like dealing with Derek. She had to keep her feelings in check and be prepared to plead her right to continue this case.
“Are you all right in there?”
“Yeah, I'm coming right out.” Here goes nothing. She left the bathroom, ready to face Marc in the small closed-in space.
“Camille, come here.” Marc patted the space beside him. He was resting on the end of the bed as if it was normal for them to share a space.
She picked at some invisible lint on her sweater. Sitting on the bed could spell trouble. In response to his request, she shook her head negatively, signaling that she didn't think it was a good idea. Instead, she sat in the chair behind the desk. He smiled as if he was having a good time watching her squirm.
“Camille, sitting over there will only temporarily solve our issue.” His smile was so sexy, she could just lick it off. Where in the hell did that come from?
“Urgh...” Camille released a muddled groan as she shook her head trying to rid herself of that thought.
He laughed.
She was saved by the bell as her cell phone rang. It was Derek. He wasn’t going to make it to Dallas, instead he would meet them in Houston. She nodded as if he could see her responses. All the while, Marc laid back on the bed, his feet flat on the floor, hands resting behind his head. His eyes were closed and it lessened the tension in her chest. Once again, she could tell he was asleep. She was sure he was beat. He had caught an early flight back to Houston, driven them to Dallas, and now he was fast asleep on her bed, again, and she'd let him, he deserved it.
Camille pulled out the documents from the safety deposit box, Ashanta's letter, and her notes. She paused trying to recall whether she'd brought Ashanta's file. While walking to her suitcase, Camille made a mental note to transcribe her comments into her laptop. She chided herself for forgetting the file and would have to make due. She grabbed her laptop and sweatpants and turned on her computer before tiptoeing to the bathroom. She needed to cross-reference her notes between Ashanta's letters and the documents, but first she needed to change since they would not be meeting Derek.
She peeked over her shoulder and Marc was still asleep. Such a beautiful man… However, he was off limits, especially with Derek breathing down her back. She paused at the entrance of the door and watched the rise and fall of his chest. She loved the way his jeans fit snugly on his firm thighs.
Snap out of it, girl.
It was okay to look, but not touch. Now if only she could convince the butterflies in her stomach.
* * *
Marc lay awake for a few minutes before opening his eyes. He could hear Camille singing under her breath. He opened one eye. Her back was turned to him. The coast was clear, so he decided to watch her for a while.
Her ringlets were free, just the way he liked it. She had on a t-shirt and sweats. Her feet were pulled underneath her in the chair as she leaned over the desk, staring at a yellow notepad before typing into her computer. She paused, snapped her fingers and rocked her shoulders to the beat.
It took everything in him not to react to her carefree moment. Marc felt like he was spying. He knew he was getting a rare glimpse of the woman that lie behind those prim and proper navy blue suits.
“I like this side of you,” he finally said.
She stopped and fidgeted while pushing forcefully at something on her computer. The music stopped and the agent returned. He could see her slipping away and he missed her already. Marc stood and closed the space between them in a few short steps.
“You didn't have to turn the music off.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and began massaging the tension he felt beneath his fingertips.
“I didn't mean to wake you.” She sat as stiff as a board.
He continued to massage her shoulders, elated that she had not stopped him. He kneaded the persistent knot, nearly losing his cool when she released a throaty moan. She rolled her head to the left, giving him full access to her bare neck. He knew it would be inappropriate to take advantage of the moment, but he also knew that he’d mentally kick himself later for letting it pass them by.
Marc bent lower and placed a kiss at the base of her neck. He swore he heard a purr of approval, so he continued kissing. He wanted to taste her mouth again. He turned the chair so she faced him and extended his hand. Camille stared at him. Marc knew she was over-thinking the situation. He couldn’t rush her, but he wanted her….now.
“Baby, stop thinking so much and come here.”
She grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Marc wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He tilted his head, ready to sample the most delectable treat.
Marc slipped his hand around her neck as his fingers played in her hair. He inhaled her intoxicating scent, and then stopped a short breath away from Camille's lips. He used the end of his thumb and lightly traced her chocolate freckles that danced across her nose.
“What are you wearing?” he whispered, his mouth over hers.
“Sweats and a t-shirt.” Her husky voice carried through the room over his labored breathing.
He laughed, pulling her body flush with his own. “No, love, your perfume.”
“I'm not wearing any...”
He captured her mouth in a kiss that sent a chill of awareness through his body and settled in his groin. He felt a throb that he tried to ignore, but he couldn't, any more than he could live without breathing.
“Camille, I know it's soon, but I want to make love to you.”
She nodded her consent and he slipped his hand beneath her shirt. He lifted it to find the cutest pink lace bra. He used his finger to trace the chocolate buds awaiting his attention. She sucked in her breath while arching her back. Following his lead, she reached for the button of his jeans.
“Marc...” She purred, grabbing the back of his head as he played with her perky small breasts.
He pulled away and looked into Camille‘s eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, this may complicate things, but yes. I want this.”
Marc gathered Camille in his arms, carrying her a few feet to the king size bed. He laid her down…slowly as he removed her sweatpants. He was pleased by what he discovered. She wore tiny pink panties. She was a girly-girl underneath her tough exterior.
She lay like a sexy temptress with her sandy locks flowing and her caramel sun-kissed skin clad in pink. He let his index finger trace a seductive line from the base of her neck, down the valley between her breasts, and low to the pearl that made her squirm and whisper his name beneath her breath.
Marc let his pants drop lazily to the floor as he climbed in the bed. His weight caused the bed to shift. She grabbed his manhood.
“Are you ready?” he asked, kissing his way down her stomach.
“Yes...”
Chapter 19
Talib sat behind the wheel of his rented SUV, waiting for a passing vehicle to clear the road. He had a few men with him and a tinge of guilt was rattling his mind, but he was not here to make friends. He wanted his money. His intuition told him that Camille knew something from Ashanta’s letter.
The street was filled with parked cars and he didn't see any oncoming traffic. He ran his hands along his head, feeling his knit hat in place. He gave the men, dressed in all black, their marching orders and they moved in sync. Talib was several steps ahead. He reached in his pockets, removed his black gloves, and slipped his hands into them. He wiggled his fingers, ensuring they were secure.
Talib could see Camille's beautiful face and he stepped through her silhouette as he watched a man kneel to pick her lock. With one forceful push, he crossed the threshold entering Camille's
home.
He watched them move through the condo with ease. He closed the door as they cut through the night, quiet as the evening breeze. He wouldn't have known they were present if he didn't catch slight flickers of their flashlights. He supervised stepping over the tossed belongings. He reached for the door to the coat closet.
“I checked that closet. There are only jackets inside,” D called out from across the room. He was a local contact that helped from time to time.
“And…” Talib asked annoyed. His gaze sent D on his way. He stepped into the closet to find several neatly hung jackets, a luggage set, and a small metal file cabinet.
Talib heard a crash coming from the back of the condo. He closed the door and headed toward the sound. Walking in Camille's bedroom, he could still smell her scent lingering in the air. He wished he had the words to describe it. His growing awareness to her subsided when he heard a crunch underneath his feet. Talib stepped back and noticed a glass vase shattered on the floor.
“I told you to keep the damages minimal. What part of that don't you understand?”
“My bad. It was an accident.” D nonchalantly shrugged. Talib was not amused.
He scanned the room, noticing one of the men going through Camille's dresser drawers. He was tossing things about, he stopped and ran his hands through her drawer of underwear.
“Get out of there!” Talib growled, startling him. He slammed the drawer shut and continued to move about the room.
“Get your boy.” He looked at D and continued. “We are looking for files, memory sticks, data CDS, NOT panties, bras, and fucking shit up! Understand?” Talib let his voice rise and it echoed through the condo. All three men stopped.
“Yes,” the trio reluctantly mumbled.
Satisfied that they understood, he went back to the front closet. Talib opened the top drawer of the metal file cabinet and began scanning it when his cell phone rang. He answered. It was Dalmar, his right hand man.
“Yeah...”
Dalmar ignored his sullen mood and gave him an update on the operation. He was one of the most innovative businessmen he knew. He and Dalmar met in their late teens and Talib promised he would take Dalmar along for the ride. He kept his promise and as a result, Dalmar was the closest thing to family that he had. He paused to consider Ashanta, but whatever potential their relationship held had died with her. He reasoned that she knew better than to fuck with his money.
Talib never thought he would find his work with the group appealing. His first intentions were to kill everyone that harmed his family. The members of the Imperial Dynasty raided his village and were responsible for the deaths of many of the villagers including his mother and sisters. He had been forced to watch several men rape and then kill his sisters.
He knew a part of him died that day. His mother made him promise to care for his sisters and he failed.
“Man, are you there?”
“I'm sorry, I'm kind of busy. How are things going there?” Talib left Dalmar in charge of operations in his absence since he was the only person he trusted. They had been through a lot together.
“We’re moving along as planned. I completed the contract negotiations with our new contacts in Liberia and Democratic Republic of Congo. We’re on target to triple our revenues and we’ll have distributors on every continent. You’re one clever man.”
Talib nodded his approval of their progress while walking through Camille’s condo.
“That's enough gushing for one day.” Dalmar laughed at his own joke. “I selected our next scholarship recipients. We have five students. Two are heading to the United States, one is studying in China, one in Switzerland, and the other is in London. I just need to announce the date for the ceremony. When should we expect you?”
Talib expected to feel happy or at least successful, yet the more money he made, the more isolated, and alone he felt. He was no fool and knew he worked in a cutthroat environment. He'd reinvented the workings of a rebel group. They did not deal like the rest of them and it was causing them to stand out on the international scale. At first, he found building business alliances fascinating. He had people acknowledging their work. It opened doors to deal with legitimate businesses and universities around the world. Now, he was more like a walking target. He was clearing billions and it attracted people that wanted to befriend him or kill him to acquire the status that he achieved. He had more people wanting him dead than alive.
“I hope to be out of here in a couple of days.” He motioned for one of his rent-a-thugs to check the storage closet off the patio. Talib walked through the house, checking behind the men. They pulled together documents and began stacking them on the coffee table. He lowered himself onto the couch. Dalmar continued to talk, bringing him up to date.
The operation was simple. He took his men from being controlled by force to being controlled by money. They did not use the normal recruiting tactics. They did not sit around plotting to take over the government. No, his men and women were educated. They used technology to further their cause, and it was all based on mutual financial gain.
Talib knew money made the world go ’round. The Dynasty’s growing financial obligations included paying for college tuition, cars, houses, all-expense paid vacations, and in exchange, they gave him their loyalty.
“Cool, I will give them the green light. We have some contracts you need to review, I’ll fax them over. Geoffrey’s already given his approval, now I need your signature to move forward.” Dalmar focused on completing his tasks, ignoring Talib's unresponsiveness. Geoffrey was their attorney and another proud product of his leadership.
“Send it, I'll take care of it and get it back to you before I leave. How is Minkah?”
Talib used Ashanta's mother as an example. He built his reputation and empire on follow-through and that's where Saul had gone wrong. He would always find himself on the short end of the stick. People would not believe him because he was weak and issued idle threats. Talib could not afford that luxury because if he did, he'd find himself dead somewhere by some young blood trying to make a point. He didn't kill her, but ...
“She is recovering.” He waited a few seconds before asking the next question, “What about Ashanta?”
“I handled the situation,” Talib said. Dalmar knew he did not explain his actions to anyone, and he didn't plan to start now.
Talib walked back to the closet. They needed to leave Camille's soon and he wanted to go through the file cabinet. He lowered his body and began finger walking through the files. He passed over several names, looking for something familiar. He stopped at “Ashanta Kenani.” He grabbed the file and walked back to the couch.
“Dalmar, if that's it, I have to go.” He opened the file on the coffee table and began extracting the handwritten papers.
He said his goodbyes and sat bewildered as he focused on the handwritten notes. He called for a flashlight. He pulled the top sheet closer to his face scanning the light across the words. His thoughts moved from shock to anger.
She was some kind of cop or something. He saw the stats and entries chronicling Ashanta's company moves for the past two years. Camille is a cop!
Chapter 20
They went from awkward to mind-blowing to awkward again. Camille and Marc rode in silence and neither broached the subject. She sat on the passenger's side watching the cars pass by, letting the music keep her company.
“Should I apologize for moving too fast?” Marc asked.
Camille turned to appreciate his profile. She knew it would be tacky to say, you rocked my world or you complete me or even what the hell were you waiting for? She laughed at her runaway thoughts. He misunderstood her laughter because his facial expression turned hard.
“No, why should you apologize? You asked and I answered. We're grown and I enjoyed it.” She reached for his hand, which rested on the gearshift. He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I think it was kind of liberating,” she rambled. “I am not looking for any
thing permanent and neither are you. We can enjoy each other and when it's done, we'll part friends.”
Marc's stoned expression returned. Camille stopped and focused on the landscape.
“Friends?”
“Yes, friends.” She turned, resting her back on the car door. She gave in to her physical need when she said yes, and she didn't regret it. She would not confuse lust with love, she'd been there, done that. She would call it like she saw it, enjoy their time and move on.
He rode the remainder of the trip in silence. She wanted to talk, but she decided to hold on to their Dallas moment.
Marc made the trip in record time, parked outside her door and turned off the engine. Neither moved. She grabbed her handbag and prepared to get out the car. Camille opened the door, but Marc leaned across her lap and pulled the car door shut. She sat in shock with her mouth hanging open.
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