by Ryan, Alison
Afterwards I sat in my chair for a while, watching as happy fellow graduates trailed off, exchanging hugs and high fives, shedding tears of joy, moving on to their new lives, to trips, to parties, to families.
I wouldn’t cry. Not there. Only later in my hotel room.
But just when I was ready to stand up and leave, another surprise.
“Camilla…” Nolan’s voice.
My stomach sunk. My palms started sweating and my heart raced in my chest at the sound of him saying my name. I turned, half hoping I’d imagined it, and half hoping it was true.
But it was him. Nolan Weston.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. Seeing him again was both what I wanted most in the world, and what I’d dreaded most.
He stepped toward me. He looked sexier than I’d ever seen him in a heather gray tailored suit. I wanted to strip him down right then, right there, in front of everyone. I would have sunk to my knees and serviced him if he’d commanded it.
“I needed to be here,” he said. “To explain things. And to see you graduate. Someone needed to be here.”
“Ha,” I scoffed, walking away from him and back toward the parking lot. “Poor me, right? Little Orphan Camilla with no one left to love her. Well, it’s a story I’ve gotten used to, Nolan. I don’t need your fucking pity. Go. Leave me alone.”
His hand reached for my arm. I wanted to push him away but it was impossible. I wanted him to touch me. Even just being near him, as angry as I was, made me feel that familiar heat again. I missed the heat of his body near mine. I missed his voice saying my name.
I missed everything. And he’d sent me away. He’d killed my heart.
“No,” he said, the familiar authority of his voice making me stop. “You have to hear me. You will hear me, Camilla.”
I looked up at him. His voice was stern but those hazel eyes were pleading. For the first time I felt like I had a lot of power. I could wield it if I wanted to. If it was more important for me to bring him to his knees, I felt like I could have done it in that moment.
But the power he held over me was so much stronger. It would always be.
“Come back with me,” he said. “To my house.”
That’s right. The home he’d lived in my entire matriculation at college. That’s where he wanted me to go with him. To his house of lies and deception.
I shook my head, “Not there. It’ll just make me angry. Or weak. Or both.”
He sighed, “Where can we talk?”
“I’m still in my dorm until tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll take you there. Tell me what you need to, but promise to go. Promise not to let me…” I didn’t finish the sentence.
“I’ll promise to eventually go,” he said. “But I promise nothing else.”
********
My dorm room was pretty barren. I’d packed up almost everything, even most of my bedding. I hadn’t planned to stay there the night; I’d rented a room at the Omni downtown. From there, I wasn’t sure what would happen next.
Three months ago, I would have said the day after I graduated I would be on my way with just a backpack and my phone to Europe. Then Asia. Then every other continent and country I could reach. I’d had adventure on my mind, a longing for places I’d never been or even heard of before.
But the greatest adventure would never compare to Nolan Weston. And there was a disappointment in knowing I had tasted the greatest thing I would ever taste, and never have a chance to taste it again.
Yet he was here now. Despite what had happened. I couldn’t lie- a small part of me was thrilled to see him, thrilled to know he was close by. Seeing him was like a shot of the best drug on the market. It instantly revived me. I’d been practically asleep emotionally the last few months.
I walked in front of him the entire way to my dorm, not daring to look back to make sure he was following me. I knew he was. I had to try my best to be cold to him, to not crumble like I wanted to.
When we entered my room I had to grope around for the light switch.
“Wow,” Nolan said, stepping inside. “So this is where you live.”
I shrugged, “You act you didn’t spy on me for four years.”
He laughed, “I would hardly call it spying. For instance, I’ve never been inside this building.”
I walked over to my bed and sat down, still in my graduation gown, clutching my black mortarboard in my hands.
“So what do you want to tell me?” I asked.
He was pacing now and for the first time since I’d known him, Nolan Weston looked nervous.
“First off,” he said. “You look beautiful. I mean, stunning. I saw you across the lawn and… I could barely breathe at the sight of you.”
I looked at him, surprised.
“Thank you. I guess,” I said, already feeling my guard going down, something I couldn’t allow to happen.
“Second,” he said, as he knelt in front of me. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for how I treated you.”
Tears stung my eyes. His face was genuine and kind, just like it had been our last night together, before the morning that everything changed.
“You hurt me so bad,” I said, my lip quivering. “I still don’t understand why.”
“Because I was terrified,” Nolan said, taking one of my hands. He made circles on my palm with his thumb. “Terrified of how I felt about you. And what it could mean. And I was covering my tracks. The person on the phone… It was a client. Someone I was trying to hide the truth from. Camilla, being with me puts you in a lot of danger. I can’t allow that to happen.”
“What could it mean?” I asked. “I was just sex to you. You said that.”
He grimaced, “I know. It was fucked up. Because it’s not true. Of all the lies I’ve had to tell in this line of work, there’s never been a bigger one than that.”
He leaned forward and put both his hands on my face, his mouth inches from mine. He was still on his knees, but I was the one who was at his mercy. As always.
“Tell me the truth,” I whispered, staring into his eyes.
“The truth,” he said. “Is that I love you, Camilla.”
There was a long silence between us. I had no idea how to respond.
“Why couldn’t you tell me that?” I asked. “Before? And why did you have to be so fucking cruel? What kind of game is this, Mr. Weston?” I spat his name back at him, knowing how it would hurt him.
But I deserved a shot too. After what he’d done to me.
“It’s not a game,” he said, quietly. “You don’t understand this, but my love is not a safe thing to possess. The things I love are used as weapons against me. Weapons that can also be destroyed, in order to get to me. Loving you is the worst thing I could do for you.”
The tears were falling now. None of it made sense.
“How can that be?” I said. “Your love is the only thing that makes me feel like I fucking matter. It’s the only thing that I have ever truly needed. You knew that too. You knew I loved you, and you still chose to obliterate me. And I hate you for that. I hate that you’re this important to me, this vital to my soul. Fuck you, Nolan!”
I was sobbing now, angry at myself for letting him see me like this when I had always promised myself I would never allow anyone to see me vulnerable again. I had been sure I could cut that part of my heart off, like a limb I could no longer find use for because it was covered in gangrene.
But Nolan Weston retained that part of me. It wasn’t mine to cut off. Because it would always belong to him.
He wrapped his arms around me then, and I was too exhausted to pull away from him. The smell of him and the feel of him held a power over me, even now.
“Camilla…” he said. “There’s no way you could ever hate me as much as I hate myself.”
Okay, now I could pull away. Because now I was just pissed.
“It’s all about you!” I screamed standing up. “What did you come here for? Forgiveness? Well, guess what? You’re never getting that. I
’ve already given you way too much. I refuse to give you anything else. I want you to go.”
He stared at me, dumbfounded.
“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” he said. “I just wanted you to know the truth. I didn’t expect you to forgive me. I’m not worthy of shit. But I couldn’t keep the truth to myself anymore. I get paid to keep a lot of secrets, but that was the one I couldn’t take to my grave. And maybe that makes me a selfish prick, putting this on you. But what would be worse? Never knowing?”
“Well, if nothing can come of it, that would make it worse,” I retorted. “Great. You love me. And you can never be with me, for your own reasons. Where does that leave me? In the same place I was before.”
He shook his head, “You’re acting like I have a choice. If I had any kind of choice do you think I would actually choose a life without you?”
“You act like you sold your soul to the devil, Nolan,” I said. “You work for a company. Not God.”
“It might as well be,” he muttered. “Selling my soul to the devil would be a much easier contract to get out of. I’ve pledged my life to my job. And I had no problem with that. I pledged my allegiance to your father. And he trusted me with the one thing he loved… Not realizing I would love you, too.”
“And now he’s dead,” I said. “So who the fuck cares? You don’t owe anyone anything. Except me. But I don’t count for shit!”
I walked away then, for good. He’d said what he needed to say. And dammit, I had to leave before he said anything else. I had to leave on my terms for once.
“Camilla,” he said as I opened the door. “There’s more. You need to sit down.”
“Stop telling me what to do,” I said. “You’re not my mentor anymore. I graduated. From college, from you. I’m serious, Nolan. Just leave me the hell alone.”
“It’s about your father,” he said. “You need to know this.”
“It’s pretty shitty to bring him into this,” I said, turning around. “Just to get me to stay.”
“You and I both know I wouldn’t need to use your father to make you stay,” Nolan said.
I rolled my eyes and leaned against the threshold of my door.
“Fine,” I said, exasperated. “What do I need to know about my father?”
“Your father,” Nolan said. “Is not dead. Your father is very much alive.”
THE END OF THE MENTOR
It’s cruel to leave it there, but trust me… It will be worth it. Nolan and Camilla are coming back! Look for the next book THE MOGUL this June. On the following pages enjoy an excerpt of my new novel, REVEL, coming out May 8th. And to get news on releases and giveaways, sign up for my newsletter! No spam, just fun. Unsubscribe at any time.
Chapter One
Declan DeGraff was hungover.
It was the kind of hungover he hadn’t been since his fraternity days at the College of Charleston. And that had been almost a decade ago.
After graduating, he’d grown up a bit and only imbibed when in the presence of his business colleagues; to network and close deals. And it was always bourbon for him. Beer was for college kids and shrimpers. And he was no longer the former and never the latter.
Returning to Charleston, however, meant a return to old vices.
He stood up and immediately smashed his head against the ceiling above him. Right. He’d forgotten he was on his yacht. In a bunk. Naked.
He was really too old for this shit.
“Dec-laaaaaaan,” a faux high-pitched voice yelled down to him from the deck. “Get your drunk ass up. Your daddy is calling your phone.”
Ugh, Declan thought. His father was the last person he needed to hear from at the moment.
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” Declan said, jumping down from the bunk, still naked. He noticed two slender girls were sleeping on the bottom, their legs intertwined and their breasts mashed against each other. One was a blonde and the other a red head. And he couldn’t for the life of him remember either of their names.
It didn’t matter. They’d be gone in a few minutes anyway.
His best friend Winston Ravenel handed him his buzzing iPhone.
“You look like shit,” he told Declan.
“Thanks,” Declan replied. “Can you get those girls dressed and out of here? I want to go to brunch. I need to eat.”
“Why can’t they come with?” Winston asked. Declan gave him a look and Winston dropped the subject.
Declan didn’t take women to brunch. He took them to bed.
Declan answered the phone, “Hey, Dad. Everything okay?”
“Where are you?” his father, Henry DeGraff, bellowed into the phone. “I’ve been texting and calling you all morning.”
“Well, I’m on the boat,” Declan said, trying to be patient. “Why? I told you, your nurse was coming in…”
“I just fired her,” Henry said. “She was incompetent.”
Declan was angry now, “Fired her? Today was her first day. You’ve fired every nurse we’ve hired in the last month. This is getting out of control. You will not fire her. I’m not dealing with this bullshit, okay? I have a life to live and handle and you’re making that very difficult.”
“Oh, so sorry Declan. Didn’t mean for my pancreatic-fucking-cancer to be such a burden on your life. You know, the one you still get to live? With all the money your family made for you.”
Declan sighed. They had this same exact conversation every damn day lately.
“May I remind you,” Declan said. “That our family money is now actually money I’ve made. That our old, aristocratic money ran out and I went and made us more so you can have all the nurses and care and morphine in the world! Or is your memory going, too? Because if that’s the case, I can always put you in a home- “
“Stop.” His father said it every time. Before Declan would say something he regretted. It was one his father’s few mercies.
They were both silent.
Declan spoke more softly now, “Dad, I’m just asking that you give the nurse a chance. And if she’s that bad, I’ll get rid of her, okay? But we’re running out of nurses, Dad. Charleston isn’t a major metropolis.”
He heard his father relenting, “Okay, son. But I don’t have to like her.”
“Dad, you’ve never liked anyone. Why start now?”
They hung up.
Declan walked over to the side of the boat. It was docked in Charleston Harbor, right next to the Charleston Yacht Club, where he planned on having brunch in just a few moments.
He watched as the two leggy coeds disembarked and sashayed their way down the plank and onto the sidewalk that led to the stairs that went up to the parking lot. He noticed one of them had a magnificent ass and suddenly he remembered a little bit about last night, just enough to put him in a slightly better mood.
“Hair of the dog?” Winston asked, handing Declan a glass of Maker’s. “Thought it would help.”
“Always does,” Declan said, taking a long drink.
“Hey, another thing,” Winston said.
“What’s up?”
“Can you please put some pants on?”
Chapter Two
Charlotte had been driving for two hours. She’d left Nashville that morning after a brief goodbye with her sister, Vanessa, punctuated by a promise to be back in a week, two weeks at the most.
She hated lying to her younger sibling.
“Why Charleston?” Vanessa asked. “You haven’t been back there since college. Right?” Vanessa leaned against Charlotte’s very sensible Volkswagen Passat, her hand shielding her freckled face from the Tennessee sun.
“Right,” Charlotte said, shoving the last of her suitcases into the back seat.
“So why go there now?” Vanessa asked. “It’s not about…”
Charlotte slammed the back door shut and started walking toward the other side of the car.
“What?” Charlotte said. “About who? Declan?”
It had been years since she’d spoken his
name out loud to anyone.
“Yeah, I mean,” Vanessa couldn’t look her in the eye. “I just don’t know why else you’d go. That city is him.”
Charlotte sighed, “It was almost ten years ago, V. If I’m not over Declan yet, that would be pretty pathetic. Besides, I don’t think he lives there anymore. Another perk of going.”
“So you keep up with him?” Vanessa was smirking now.
“No,” Charlotte said, emphatic. “He was in the New York Times a couple months ago. When he sold his company. He’s now one of the youngest self-made billionaires in the country.”
Charlotte thought about the long-form interview on the front of the New York Times’ business section. She’d been in her office at the hospital, eating a bagel, turning the pages of the paper over to look for the style section when his face suddenly appeared and she’d almost choked. There was Declan DeGraff, all six-foot-three inches of handsome leaning against a sleek, black Range Rover, his arms crossed. He smiled at her from the photo almost as if to say, “Miss me?”
She’d thrown the paper across the room, but then picked it up and folded it, right through his picture, and hidden it in her desk the past few weeks. Whenever she was feeling out of sorts, or like one of her panic attacks was on the horizon, she’d peek into her desk and look at his knowing smile.
For some reason it could still comfort her. Despite the past.
“Declan DeGraff is a billionaire now?” Vanessa guffawed. “Is he married?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Charlotte said. “But the interview said he lived in California. Probably with a harem for all I know. It doesn’t matter. He has nothing to do with why I’m going.”
Vanessa sighed, “I just don’t understand any of this. You worked so hard to become an obstetrician. You loved your job, you helped people. And now you’re suddenly referring your patients to other doctors and giving up all your plans to take some random trip to Charleston. I mean, are you okay? Is this about turning 30? Are you having a crisis?”