by Falon Gold
“Camron, are you sure this is a good idea?” Lance asks from the bedroom, which is too damn close. “She seems…well, ill by the whole situation. I can’t say I blame her. What kind of man makes a woman give up her life to be with him?”
Why didn’t I think to ask that? Right, I have other pressing problems.
Another bout of sickness clogs my ears up before Mr. Powers replies.
The lights come on. Instantly, I know who’s braving my purging in the dark.
“Go. Away,” I get out before another onslaught overtakes me.
The crystal knob on the closest sink turns on without a squeak, before a cool cloth is held firmly to my forehead. I snatch it off, tossing it behind me. It gives off a whacking noise as it collides with the basin of the jacuzzi, the only satisfiable hitting that’s going to go on with him in the room.
He heaves air into his lungs above me. I couldn’t care less that’s he’s irritated by my childishness, or that he’s trying to take care of me. I have my own heaving issues, which stop abruptly, allowing me to tip backwards to the floor on my butt and catch my breath. Why is he trying to take care of me anyway? He never wanted to before.
“Amari, let me help you to the bed.”
Waves of revulsion punch me in the abdomen. “Never will I ever sit on that bed, playboy.”
“The linen is clean.”
“Don’t care. Nastiest bed in the city.”
“Which I’ll take you on first instead of the one on Blanchard Row if you don’t go back to acting like an adult.” Which means we’ll be having sex on it one day, technically more satisfiable hitting… for him.
I wish I could contest that announcement, but it’s not worth the aftermath that won’t fall on only me. Still, he’s going to learn to compromise today.
“I will not go anywhere near that bed until I get a tetanus shot and bubble wrap for the mattress, and you’ve provided a clean bill of health after your next checkup. I know you’ve been with over half of the women in this state alone… if not all of them.”
“Not one of them ever mattered to me, Amari, and I never slept with anyone unprotected.”
“Wrong. They all matter. At least to them and their families, they do.”
I can’t get his words ‘not one of them ever mattered to me’ out of my head. Where is this man’s heart? If he truly has one, why is he trying to stick me on the black side of it with everyone else?
I scramble to my feet, rush to the running water, and scoop some into my mouth, rinsing it out, praying it washes away the new ripples of revulsion for him.
“Fine, Amari. They matter, just not like you do. When the newest update of my medical records posts online with everyone else’s, then I’ll have you in every way I can think of.” That’s a promise if I ever heard one from his mouth.
“Yeah, I’m sure you will, lover, but you’ll get tired of me eventually. Then I’ll forget you ever existed.”
I cry bull…
Shut up.
…shit.
“Don’t count on it, Amari. Three months is a long time to be around someone. You might find I’m not as bad as you think I am.” That’s what I’m afraid of, along with the systematic reprogramming of me that he’ll do.
It’s not his fault you’re half in love with him already.
Whose is it then? And who asked a part of me to be honest with me? There’s nothing wrong with sticking my head in the sand concerning Mr. Powers. It’s how I’ve endured his employ this long.
Barely living, sleeping alone…
Oh my God! Shut! Up!
I prop myself on the edge of the countertop with trembling hands, head hanging low. “I don’t think you’re bad, Mr. Powers. I knew you were when you were too stupid to hide the scores of women you’ve played with in here. So many more would do you just for the bragging rights. If you’d bypassed all of them just to waste your time on me, you’re even more twisted than I thought.”
My head swivels to him behind me. He’s got a cruel twist to his lips, the very same egotistical expression inherited from his father that I was expecting when he crushed my first efforts to combat his manipulating.
“We’ll see who’s more twisted when I’m done with you, Amari.”
I raise one hand above my head. “It’ll be me for sure. Can I be alone now, please?”
He chuckles and moves toward Lance, who’s waiting in the bedroom with the scent of uncomfortable wafting off his camel-colored Tom Ford suit like cologne. Both men vanish into the office, talking amongst themselves too low for me to hear. Minutes later, I retrace their steps to the client’s side of his desk, where Lance perches on the edge one of two leather and silver-trimmed chairs.
Lance’s unease will become a shared experience as he explains each clause of the contract to me. They’re simple. Camron Powers and I are an exclusive couple with full benefits that he can reap wherever he desires, whenever, however, and I have to keep it all to myself. Whatever he tells me to do, I must do in a timely fashion. If I renege on the gag order or just one of his commands, I forfeit every penny any of the Spencer’s and immediate relatives every saved.
I’m enslaved to Camron, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
The question is why does he really want you so damn badly.
I must be the one that got away.
You offered yourself to him, so that’s not it.
Then what is it?
He’ll tell you in time.
Time with him will work against me.
If you know that, then you already know what not to do.
Fall in love with him completely. That’s much easier said than done when your heart is stupid.
Then concentrate on just not falling in love… completely.
“This is an illegal document, Amari,” Lance says suddenly, disrupting the nagging thoughts flitting through my head. “It won’t hold up in a court of law.”
“I know, Mr. Armstrong. But if I don’t commit to it… to him, I might not get back everything of mine before I can prove he took anything from me in the first place, or he takes something else. I would take that chance, but my brother Brandon certainly can’t support a growing family on nothing. My parents’ savings have to last their lifetimes. My father’s condition could make him keel over into his grave from the stress of losing their home, cars… their customary way of life.”
It’s astonishing how I got us all into this mess by simply looking for the root of Mr. Powers’ success. I’ll get us free of his grip come hell or high water. There’s one silver lining in these thunderclouds hovering over the Spencer’s though, the time limit. If there’s a God in heaven, all my future scars will be on the inside after this ordeal is over.
Lance hands a Rosewood Executive pen worth hundreds of dollars to me. “Call me Lance. No need for formality when we’re all in this circus together. Are you sure you want to do this, Amari? You don’t have to sign this contract.”
My head wrenches upward, looking for some indication that he may be able to rescue me from the ringleader of this circus. There’s only sympathy swimming in the sad, green depths beneath a brunette, hundred-dollar haircut.
“Do you have three hundred grand, Mr. Armstrong?”
He shifts in his seat and side-eyes Mr. Powers, who winks and smiles.
The prick.
Lance breathes out heavily. “No. I’m prone to spend money sometimes faster than my check clears.” And Mr. Powers knows Lance wouldn’t be able to give me a handout or a hand out of this hole that he’s has dug for me.
I’m going to have to shovel all the way to China, as he always intended.
“Then you can’t help me, Lance, but thank you.” I sign my name on the dotted line.
When my prison sentence is secured in black ink, I jack rabbit out of my seat.
“Wait!” Camron orders.
I palm the doorknob before stopping, craving to be on the other side of the barrier I should’ve never entered… ever. His presence emer
ges behind me, casting his shadow over me, and I should get used to being swallowed up by him right now.
“Our agreement goes into effect immediately. I’ll pick you up at your apartment tomorrow at four. You take nothing with you from there but the clothes on your back. We’ll go straight to your parents’ home in Winchester, where you’ll introduce me as yours. Call your parents and let them know we’re coming tomorrow tonight for dinner, please.”
Well, he didn’t say I have to announce myself as his, so that’s something.
Not much, but he used manners. Where did he buy them at I wonder?
“They’re expecting me today, Mr. Powers.”
“But not me. I’ll be grateful if you’ll all wait one more day. I trust you’ll give them a heads up.” Without actually giving them one about the true nature of our association.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Hatred bubbles underneath the weight of his arrogance, superiority, and demand for obedience and respect that he isn’t due that’s pressing into my chest. “Yes, Mr. Powers.”
“Amari, we’re not colleagues anymore. Call me Camron.”
Call him… I thought…
Just stop thinking at this point, and go with the flow. He’s more confusing than a Rubik’s cube.
And his request for less formality isn’t unreasonable. Wouldn't have dreamed of calling him by his given name four years ago.
But you have dreamed about it.
Once.
Try in the triple digits.
Try shutting the hell up sometimes.
I glance back at him. “I can do that.”
“Then say it,” he whispers. “Please.” Pleading.
“Camron,” I murmur.
Using his first name feels too damn intimate while I’m looking at him. It’s as if I’m crossing a line I never wanted to with him.
Oh, you wanted to. You just gave up on it a long time ago.
And now the boundaries I set are already distorting.
Imagine how fast they’ll disappear when he’s inside you.
I snatch the door open, petrified of what I can’t control. With one foot outside out the office, I’m seized by the waist, tugged backwards into a hard body.
“You didn’t let me say thank you,” Camron whispers directly into my ear, too close for the flow of my blood to not screech to a halt in my veins.
Something much more terrifying takes its place, a pulsing within that pushes against places too sensitive to be ambushed. Heat waves undulate through me. Yet, I shiver. Strange.
His head dips, lips setting down on the side of my neck, the equivalent of getting smacked by a runaway train. On impact, I gasp loudly. Moisture pools within my thighs. I barely resist turning in his arms to kiss him earnestly. The power it takes to hold myself back compels a whimper from me.
Suddenly, he steps back, setting me adrift in the middle of unknown territory. His. “See you later, sweetheart. Go enjoy your day.”
How could I after this morning’s disaster and the storm brewing and thrashing around inside me? With hardly any money in my purse?
Don’t have the answer to either of those questions. Haven’t been this broke since college, but you need to get it together. You’re loitering. Can’t afford to break even a minor traffic law right now.
“O-okay,” I stammer then stagger into the hallway, as if I’ve been drinking since sunup.
Why did he have to put his mouth on me?
Felt damn good to me.
Too good.
*********
~Camron~
Again, it’s hell to let Amari go anywhere without me, but Blake’s advice comes to mind in ghostly chains rattling around my skull: give her space. She’s still willing to believe the worst of me, even less ready for me to tell her why I destroyed her credit and maimed her good name temporarily. Unwilling to even trust me. And I’m worried about her. She appears unstable while sauntering for the elevator in skin-tight jeans that mold to the half-moons of her ass like she melted down and poured herself into them.
I let her out of my sight only when she disappears into the lift, then I pivot to Lance approaching me. It’s written all over his face that he’s still concerned about the arrangement with Amari—he wanted no parts of it. Just witnessing could cost him his right to practice law, ever. He didn’t hesitate to inform me of that, loudly.
Unlike Deon, bribing Lance didn’t pan out. He swapped the much-needed extra payday in exchange for speaking his mind, starting with what he thinks of me. Apparently, I need a long stint in an insane asylum for conjuring up the idea of entangling Amari in a contracted relationship. I think he called me a savage too. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but Blake says I should and that Amari hates me because I don’t. Lance even warned me that he’d help Amari if she asked for it. Thank God, he burns through money like a fire-alarm blaze, and she doesn’t.
“Camron—”
“Save it, Lance. I have to go.”
He squints at me. “Go? What about the Dubai contract? The contract in my hand?” He waves it at me.
“Tear them both up.”
“Do what?”
Don’t have time for this.
Exhaling, I do something rare: make time. “I said—”
“I heard you. I just don’t know why you went through so much to obtain both deals only to tear them up.” Then his eyes bulge out of his head. “Ohhhh!”
Who asked him to figure out anything?
“Anything concerning the matters of my heart is above your pay grade, Lance.”
He grins. “I see. Alright. I didn’t want to wheel and deal with the Dubai lawyer anyway. I can barely understand a thing the man says.”
I snort and turn around. “Cool. I’m gone for the day.”
“Can I ask where you’re going?”
I stop to. “If you must know, I have to see my doctor. Need to confirm that my body’s not crawling with something, and then call in reinforcements. There’s a store I need to buy out. Apparently, I have several birthdays to make up for. Although, my efforts will probably be deemed useless.”
Suddenly, Lance looks as if he needs the nearest bathroom. “Crawling? Yeah, I can’t help you there, but I wouldn’t be so quick to think whatever you do is useless. I heard Amari’s reaction to your stolen smooch, and no one pants like that unless they’re affected by the one doing the stealing.”
I hope that’s not all she lets me steal.
“Bye, Lance, and thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome, Camron. I'll walk out with you… and good luck with Amari.”
“I’m going to need it.”
Chapter Four
~Amari~
I arrive at the apartment in one piece. My emotional state doesn't. It's all over the place now that Camron has worn off. He’ll probably be pissed when he learns I sent a quick text, asking my mother to set one more place at the table for a friend tomorrow. She’s disappointed in the change of plans and that I didn’t just call, but understands it’s more sensible to wait than make two trips to Winchester. Fortunately, she’s not fond of texting. I avoid the third degree, not ready to lie to her face just yet about what Camron really is to me, even if he’ll penalize me for not following his instructions.
The serenity in my home doesn't calm me for the first time, while I rack my brain for ways to get ahead of his maneuverings with my finances. The only peace I discover comes from wearing a path in every room’s carpet, wringing my hands like washed clothes that won’t release the water. It's impossible to eat, relax, or adjust to abandoning everything I know to be ensnared like a wild animal in the gilded cage of Camron's house. It’s where I'll be waiting to be led to the slaughter by the strings of my own heart.
Can't bear to think about how far astray that organ will go if given half a chance, or if Camron sneaks me from behind with more affections that I haven't braced for. Evidently, I haven't erected enough walls or lines between us yet, so I vow to be indifferen
t to him until I have. Then, I point my focus elsewhere: my struggle with bowing down to him until the proof that he's a blackmailing cutthroat is in my hand before the three months are up.
Now that I don’t have to respect Camron as my boss, instinct will demand I push back every time he commands me to do something, or bail on him altogether, ultimately my family too. Since he's goes out of town on business trips regularly, and I’m not his PA any longer, I should have enough space to uncover at least one loophole in his conditions. It would be much easier to take the contract to the cops as proof of his thievery… if I had a copy of it.
Why didn’t you ask for one, idiot?
In my defense, it's hard to plot on someone when my world is being turned upside down and I need to get far away from the madness.
It's hard for you to plot at all.
Hopefully, searching through other people's belongings is a different matter.
If I'm lucky, Camron will be gone even more frequently from home. Or I'll locate the original document quickly. If it's not locked away safely in the Powers Enterprises building that I no longer have access to.
Insurmountable obstacles crop up in each plan I concoct, each disappointment shredding my faith in beating Camron at his own game. It’s rigged, so I can't play it with him on equal footing or lose.
You'll just have to come out somewhere in between, with your mind and heart intact.
I just can't see how yet, not as long as my body reacts to every skin-to-skin contact he instigates.
The hours rebel against becoming a part of the past. Repeatedly, I catch myself memorizing the formation of my furniture. When it’s too dark in the apartment for that, I watch the neon green hands circle the clock below the multi-fruit strips of wallpaper in the kitchen, from the couch. Night comes gradually then hangs around.
No, you’re just really, really slow about accepting your fate, Amari.
And my new position in Camron's life too.
If you would, you’d be asleep by now.
Rather be awake, thank you very much.
Eventually, the new day beats the darkness back to mere shadows in every corner. When it’s down to ten minutes before four, I'm exhausted and tempted to resurrect old Amari, who wears cheap, dress clothes, glasses for reading, and a ponytail. Camron might just make me change just because he can, wanting me at my best. In the bathroom, I wash up, brush my teeth and hair, snubbing the makeup I’ll be unable to repair it if I start to cry again.