Chapter 5 Camille
FIVE
CAMILLE
The contractor had been pacing Camille’s assistant office for fifteen minutes while his voice grew increasingly agitated. She sat behind her desk, her fingers gripping her tablet with white-knuckled determination as she tried to project competence she didn’t entirely feel.
“Look, miss, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’ve got a crew sitting idle and losing money every minute we’re not swinging hammers.
” Jake Morrison was built like the buildings he demolished—broad, weathered, and unmovable.
His hard hat dangled from one meaty fist while he gestured with the other.
“Your boss said demolition starts today on the east building. Not next week.”
Camille forced her voice to remain steady despite the flutter of panic in her chest. This was only her second day, and already she was drowning in corporate waters she had never navigated.
Her architecture degree felt suddenly theoretical against the reality of angry contractors and permit confusion.
“I understand your frustration, Mr. Morrison. There must be some kind of error in the documentation. Mr. Drake is incredibly detail-oriented—he wouldn’t have made a mistake about something this important.”
Jake snorted, clearly unimpressed by her defense of Leander’s reputation. “Detail-oriented, huh? Then why am I standing here with a permit that says one thing and a schedule that says another?”
Heat crawled up Camille’s neck. In the charity foundation world, disagreements were handled with polite smiles and careful diplomacy.
Here, men like Jake expected immediate solutions from people who knew what they were talking about.
She was an heiress playing at being an assistant, and it showed today.
Think, Camille. Use your brain, not your pedigree.
“Let me pull up the permit files on my tablet,” she said, her fingers already moving across the screen. “Maybe we can figure this out together.”
The digital folders appeared with a few taps. She navigated to the Lexington project files, scanning through permits until she found the demolition authorization for the east building.
“Here it is.” She turned the tablet toward Jake, her voice gaining confidence. “East building demolition, scheduled for today. You’re absolutely right.”
Jake leaned forward, squinting at the screen. His expression shifted from irritation to confusion, then to something resembling embarrassment.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He reached into his leather portfolio and pulled out a crumpled permit. “I brought the wrong one to the job site. This is for the west building—next week’s project.”
Relief flooded through Camille so powerfully her hands shook. “It happens to everyone. Let me print you a fresh copy of the correct permit.”
She moved to the printer with quick efficiency, the machine humming to life as it produced the document Jake needed. The familiar smell of fresh toner and warm paper grounded her, reminding her that she could handle this world if she stopped doubting herself.
“Here you go,” she said, extending the permit with a smile.
Jake accepted it with a sheepish grin that transformed his weathered features. “You’re a lifesaver, miss. Most assistants would’ve just told me to wait for the boss or blamed it on someone else.”
The elevator chimed behind them, and Camille’s pulse quickened before she even turned around. Leander strode into the reception area with predatory grace, his green eyes immediately scanning the scene with protective intensity that made her breath catch.
“Jake.” His voice carried alpha authority that filled the space. “What’s the situation?”
“No situation at all, Mr. Drake.” Jake held up the freshly printed permit. “Your assistant here sorted out my screw-up. I brought the wrong paperwork to the job site—rookie mistake. She was gracious enough to print the correct permit and set me straight.”
Leander’s gaze shifted to Camille, and something warm and appreciative flickered in his expression. “Is that so? She is proving to be very invaluable around here.”
“Just doing my job,” she managed, though his praise made her feel lighter than air.
Jake gathered his things with renewed energy. “Better get to the site. We’ve already lost half the day thanks to my confusion. Thanks again, miss.”
The moment the elevator doors closed behind the contractor, Leander turned his full attention to Camille.
The intensity of his focus made her acutely aware of everything—the way her cream blouse hugged her curves, the rapid beat of her pulse, and the scent of his cologne mixing with something wilder and more dangerous.
“That was smart thinking,” he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “Any of my previous assistants would have either missed that mistake completely or passed the problem off to someone else without trying to solve it.”
The compliment hit her differently than the polite appreciation she received at charity events. This felt earned, real, based on actual competence rather than social obligation.
When has anyone praised my work instead of my appearance or connections?
“How did lunch go?” she asked, then immediately regretted the question when his expression darkened. “I’m sorry I interrupted. I wish I could have caught the permit mix-up earlier so you didn’t have to leave.”
“It actually worked out perfectly.” His jaw tightened with suppressed anger. “I lost my appetite being around Damian.”
Something twisted in her stomach—part curiosity, part dread. Her parents’ enthusiasm for Damian suddenly felt more complicated when filtered through Leander’s obvious distaste.
“How do you know him exactly?” The question escaped.
Leander studied her face with uncomfortable intensity, as though weighing how much truth she could handle. “We’ve known each other since we were children. We’re part of the same pride.”
Camille blinked, confusion replacing curiosity. “Pride? Like... a group of friends?”
The silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable. When Leander finally spoke, his words hit her like a gut punch.
“Camille, I’m a lion shifter. So is Damian. I’m the Alpha of our pride—have been since my father was killed twelve years ago.”
The world tilted sideways. Her vision blurred at the edges as her brain struggled to process information that challenged everything she thought she knew about her reality. She learned years ago that shifters existed—she had read about them—but they were other people’s reality, not hers.
Leander is a lion shifter.
The man she had been inexplicably drawn to, whose presence made her pulse race and her carefully constructed walls crumble, wasn’t entirely human. And Damian—the man her parents wanted her to court—was the same.
Her knees buckled without warning. The marble floor rushed toward her, but strong arms caught her before she could fall. Leander’s hands were gentle but firm as he guided her to the leather couch in his office, his touch sending heat through her despite her shock.
“Breathe,” he commanded softly, his alpha authority wrapping around her like a protective blanket. “Just breathe, Camille.”
As she reoriented herself, Leander crouched in front of her with concern etched across his handsome features. His hands rested on her knees, the contact both grounding and electrifying.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just... I never expected...”
“You need to go home.” His voice brooked no argument. “Take the rest of the afternoon off and get some rest.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you by leaving early.” The admission slipped out, revealing more vulnerability than she intended.
“You could never disappoint me.” The words carried absolute conviction. “Your health comes first. Always.”
The fierce protectiveness in his voice made something flutter in her chest—dangerous and warm and completely unwelcome.
“I should be fine to walk home—”
“No.” He stood with fluid grace. “You’re unsteady on your feet, and I’m not letting you navigate the city alone. I’m taking you home.”
The alpha command in his voice should have sparked her usual rebellion against male dominance. Instead, it made her feel cherished in a way she had never experienced. Carter had never shown this kind of protective concern.
Ten minutes later, they sat in the back of a yellow cab as Manhattan blurred past the windows. Leander’s presence filled the small space, his protective energy a tangible force that made her hyperaware of every breath and every accidental brush of their arms.
The St. James building soon rose before them like a monument to old money and established power.
Leander helped her out of the cab despite her protests and guided her gently inside the old building.
Once they were finally in the elevator, Leander stood close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body and see the faint scar along his collarbone where his shirt collar gaped.
A scar from what? Fighting? Protecting his pride?
Her parents’ absence when they reached the penthouse felt like a small mercy. She couldn’t imagine explaining Leander’s presence to them, especially not when she was still reeling from his revelation about being a lion shifter.
“I can stay for a while,” he offered, his green eyes searching her face. “Make sure you’re settled.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, though the words felt hollow. “I’m just going to rest. You probably have important work to finish.”
He hesitated at the door, something unspoken passing between them. “I’ll check on you later tonight.”
The promise sent warmth spiraling through her chest. After he left, Camille sank onto her cream-colored sofa and stared at the ceiling, her mind spinning with impossible truths.
Lion shifters. Alpha. Pride.