Chapter 7
IVY
I woke up with a start, the events of last night flooding back in a rush. The kiss. Oh God, the kiss. I could still feel the press of Cameron's lips against mine, the warmth of his hand on my face, the way my heart had leaped in my chest. My fingers brushed over my mouth as if the ghost of his lips lingered there.
Groaning, I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow. What had I done? Scratch that. What had he done? And why hadn't I stopped him? Why had I kissed him back?
"Get it together, Ivy," I muttered to myself, sitting up and running a hand through my tangled hair. It was just a kiss. A stupid, impulsive, amazing kiss. That's all. It didn't have to mean anything. It couldn't mean anything.
Liar.
His mouth had been a brand, and I'dmelted, like some blushing schoolgirl who didn't know better. But the worst part? If he walked in right now and did it again, I'd let him.
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 7:03 a.m. We had breakfast together in less than an hour. Great. Just great.
I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, hoping the hot water would wash away the memory of his touch. It didn't. By the time I was dressed, in a simple blouse and slacks, nothing too flashy, I was no closer to figuring out how to act around him.
When I walked into the hotel restaurant, Cameron was already there, seated at a table by the window. He looked as put-together as ever, but there was a stiffness in his posture that hadn't been there yesterday. His eyes met mine as I approached, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, the air between us filled with everything we left unspoken.
"Morning," I said, forcing a cheerful tone as I slid into the chair across from him.
"Morning," he replied, his voice clipped and formal. He glanced at the menu in front of him, avoiding my gaze.
An awkward silence stretched between us, broken only by the clink of silverware and the low hum of conversation from the other tables. I fiddled with my napkin, my mind racing for something to say.
"So, the conference went well yesterday," I ventured, cringing internally at how awkward I sounded.
"It did," he agreed, still not looking at me. "You were great," I added, trying to inject some positivity into the conversation.
He finally glanced up, his sharp eyes meeting mine. "So were you. You handled the crowd better than I expected."
"Thanks," I said, though his words felt more like an observation than a compliment.
The waiter arrived to take our orders, and I seized the opportunity to break the tension. "I'll have the eggs Benedict and a cappuccino, please," I said, flashing a smile.
"The ham and cheese omelet, black coffee," Cameron said curtly, handing the menu back without a word.
The waiter nodded and left, leaving us in another heavy silence. I took a sip of water, trying to steady my nerves. This was ridiculous. We were colleagues, professionals. We could handle one kiss without letting it derail everything. Right?
"Look," I began, my voice firmer now. "About last night—"
"It was a mistake," he interrupted, his tone cold and final. The words hit like a slap. His coffee cup trembled slightly before he fisted his hand, the same hand that had cradled my face so gently last night. "It won't happen again."
I blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. "A mistake?"
"Yes," he said, his gaze hardening. "We're here to work. Not whatever that was. I let my guard down, and it won't happen again."
His words stung, but I refused to let it show. "Got it," I said, forcing a smile. "We have to put the company first above all, right?"
"Exactly."
The waiter returned with our drinks, and I busied myself with my cappuccino, the bitter taste a welcome distraction. Cameron's rejection hurt more than I wanted to admit, but I couldn't let it affect my performance. I had a job to do, and I wasn't about to let him sabotage it. After we successfully launched the new meal kit lines and turned CCC's reputation around, I would look for a new job and put all this behind me.
By the time we arrived at the conference center, I'd steeled myself for the day ahead. The second day of FoodieCon was just as busy as the first, with attendees flooding the booths and networking events filling the schedule. I threw myself into my work, answering questions, demonstrating the meal kits, and charming everyone I met.
Cameron stayed close, his presence a constant reminder. He was all business, his demeanor cool and detached, but I could feel his eyes on me whenever I wasn't looking. It was unnerving, but I refused to let it throw me off my game.
During a break in the afternoon, I found myself alone at our booth, rearranging the samples and tidying up the display. The conference hall was quieter now, the buzz of the morning giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere. I was grateful for the moment of solitude, a chance to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.
But the peace didn't last long.
"Ms. St. Clair."
I turned to see Cameron approaching, his hands shoved into his pockets and his expression unreadable. My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my face neutral, determined not to let him see how much he affected me.
"Mr. Fitzgerald," I said, my tone polite but distant.
He stopped a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over the booth before settling on me. "You've done well today. The new kits are generating a lot of interest."
"Thank you," I replied, folding my arms across my chest. "I'm glad they're getting a positive response."
He hesitated as if weighing his next words carefully. "About this morning…"
I shook my head, cutting him off before he could continue. "It's fine. You made yourself clear. Let's just focus on the conference, okay?"
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Alright."
We stood in silence for a moment. Finally, Cameron exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair.
"Ivy, I—" he began, but before he could finish, the lights in the conference hall flickered and then went out completely, plunging the space into darkness.
I gasped, instinctively taking a step back. "What's going on?"
"Power outage," Cameron said, his voice calm but edged with irritation. "Stay here. I'll find a staff member."
He disappeared into the darkness, leaving me standing alone. I reached out, feeling for the edge of the booth to steady myself, but the sudden loss of light was disorienting. Shouldn't there be emergency lights or something? Moments later, a hand gripped my arm, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"It's me," Cameron said, his voice close to my ear.
"You scared me," I said, my heart still racing.
"Sorry," he muttered. "The staff said the storm knocked out the power. It's going to take a while to fix. They're advising everyone to return to their hotels."
I nodded, even though he likely couldn't see me. "Alright. Let's go."
The darkness swallowed everything, the booths, the exit signs, even my own trembling hands. Somewhere to my left, a panicked voice yelped, followed by the crash of toppled displays. I stumbled backward, my foot catching on a loose cable.
Strong fingers closed around my wrist, yanking me upright before I could fall.
"Easy," Cameron said, his grip searing through my sleeve. "The floor's littered with debris. You'll break your neck."
I tried to pull away. "I can manage."
My foot slid on something slick. Oil? A spilled sauce? Suddenly I was falling again, but this time his arm banded around my waist, hauling me flush against him. Every hard plane of his body burned into mine.
"Christ, Ivy," he growled, his breath hot on my temple. "Stop fighting me."
I went rigid. Yesterday, that tone had melted me. Today, it was a reminder. "Ms. St. Clair. A mistake." But the conference hall was a minefield in the blackout, and his chest was a solid wall of heat at my back. I hated how my body obeyed, sagging against him like his touch was home.
His hand slid down my arm, fingers threading through mine with shocking gentleness. "Follow me."
Someone bumped into us in the dark, and Cameron let out an animalistic snarl as he pulled me close to him. As we made our way through the conference hall, Cameron guided us skillfully through a minefield of toppled chairs and spilled sample trays, as if he had secret night vision.
For a moment, I thought it was a figment of my imagination, but then, I was sure that I felt it, his thumb stroking my knuckles tenderly. What was he doing? One moment, he pushed me away, making me feel like a dirty secret he was ashamed of, and then, he was the caring protective man I thought he was underneath his cold exterior.
"Why do you keep doing this?"
"Doing what?" he bit out.
"Pushing me away, then pulling me back."
Then, the emergency lights flickered on, bathing the room in a ghostly blue glow. His eyes glowed with raw hunger. We had made it almost to the exit. I stood still, demanding an answer from him.
Cameron dropped my hand like I had burned him.
"Because I'm a selfish bastard," he said and walked out the door, leaving me standing there, his parting gift the ghost of his thumb stroking my knuckles. A whisper of what could've been.
I followed him out onto the street, where a storm raged in full force. Rain lashed down, soaking us within seconds, and the wind howled, blowing us sideways with almost hurricane force. Cameron uttered something, but it was lost in the wind. He tightened his grip around my shoulder, pulling me closer as we hurried toward the hotel.
By the time we reached the lobby, we were both drenched and shivering. The power outage had affected the hotel as well, leaving the lobby dimly lit by emergency lights.
"Looks like we're stuck here for a while," Cameron said, his voice low.
"Guess so," I replied, glancing around. "At least we're out of the rain."
We made our way to the elevator, which was thankfully operational on backup power, and rode up to our floor in silence. The tension from earlier had returned, magnified by the close quarters and the lingering warmth of his hand in mine.
When we reached our rooms, Cameron paused outside my door, his expression unreadable. "Will you be okay?"
I nodded, though my heart was pounding. "Yeah. You?"
"I'm fine," he said, his voice gruff.
We stood there for a moment, neither of us willing to be the one to break the peace. Finally, I opened my door and stepped inside, turning back to look at him. "Goodnight, Cameron."
"Goodnight, Ivy," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
I closed the door behind me, leaning against it as I caught my breath. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions, confusion, longing, frustration, and something deeper I couldn't quite name.
I changed into dry clothes and wrapped a blanket around myself, sinking into the armchair by the window. The storm raged on outside, lightning streaking across the sky and thunder rumbling in the distance. It felt like the universe itself was mirroring the chaos inside me. I couldn't stop thinking about Cameron, the way he'd held my hand, the way his voice had softened, the way he'd looked at me in the dim light of the lobby.
Was this just a fleeting moment of vulnerability, or was there something more between us? I didn't know, and that uncertainty was driving me insane.
A soft knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. My heart leapt into my throat, and I hesitated for a moment before crossing the room and opening the door.
Cameron stood there, his hair still damp from the rain, his suit jacket slung over one arm. He looked not only disheveled, but vulnerable, and it threw me off balance.
"Cameron?" I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't say anything at first, just stared at me with an intensity that made my knees weak. Then, in one swift motion, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
"Idream_about you." His voice cracked. "Your laugh. The way you bite your lip when you're concentrating. The fuckingcherry scentof your shampoo." He raked a hand through his hair, wild-eyed. "Do you have any idea howpatheticthat is? A grown man, brought to his knees byyou. And I don't know what to do about it."
His admission caught me off guard, and I could only stare at him, my mind racing. "Cameron, I—"
Before I could finish, he closed the distance between us, his hands cupping my face as he kissed me with a desperation that took my breath away. It wasn't like the kiss from last night, this was deeper, more urgent, as if he'd been holding back a part of himself and finally let it go.
I melted into him, my hands gripping the front of his shirt as I kissed him back with everything I had. All the conflicted emotions and fear, it all faded away, replaced by a clarity that felt almost overwhelming. This was real. This was happening.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other as we tried to steady ourselves.
"Ivy," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I don't know what this means, but I can't pretend it isn't there anymore."
I reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Me neither."
He hesitated, his eyes searching mine. "This complicates everything. What if we fuck everything up?"
"I know," I said softly, my heart pounding. "But maybe we could figure it out together."
He stepped back, running a hand through his hair as he paced the small room. "I've spent my entire life building walls, Ivy. Keeping people at arm's length. And you just waltz in and tear them down without even trying."
"I didn't mean to," I said, my voice trembling. "I'm just me."
He stopped pacing, his gaze locking onto mine. "That's the problem. You're you. And that's more than I've ever allowed myself to want."
I wanted to reach out, to close the distance he'd put between us, but I stayed where I was, giving him the space he needed to process.
Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing, Ivy. But I do know I can't walk away from you. Not now. Not after this."
My heart skipped a beat, and I took a tentative step toward him. "Then let's figure it out. One step at a time."
He stared at me for a long moment before closing the distance between us, his hands slipping around my waist as he pulled me into a tight embrace. "One step at a time," he repeated, his voice muffled against my hair.
We stood there for what felt like forever, wrapped in each other's arms, the storm outside mirroring the chaos inside. It wasn't a solution, not yet, but it was a start.
Finally, he pulled back, his hands lingering on my shoulders. "Get some rest," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "We'll deal with this tomorrow."
I nodded, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. "Goodnight, Cameron."
"Goodnight, Ivy," he replied, brushing a kiss against my forehead before stepping out of the room.
I closed the door behind him, leaning against it as I tried to process everything that had just happened. My heart was still racing, my lips tingling from his touch, and my mind was a whirlwind of emotions.
One step at a time. That's what he'd said.
But as I climbed into bed, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket, I couldn't help but wonder where those steps would lead us.