Chapter 5 Camille #2
The words circled her thoughts, each repetition making the impossible reality more concrete. Leander—the man whose mere presence made her pulse quicken—was a predator in the most literal sense. And Damian, the polished suitor her parents championed, shared that same dangerous nature.
Her phone rang, making her jump. Damian’s name flashed on the screen, and her stomach twisted with a combination of dread and guilt. She stared at the device for three rings before reluctantly swiping to answer.
“Hello, Damian.”
“Hi, Camille.” His voice carried that same calculated charm she remembered from the auction, but now it felt different—layered with predatory undertones she couldn’t ignore. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I hope you don’t mind me calling.”
“Not at all,” she lied smoothly, her socialite training kicking in despite her internal chaos. “How are you?”
“Better now that I’m hearing your voice.” The line felt rehearsed, too polished to be genuine. “I was hoping we could have dinner tonight. Somewhere intimate where we can really talk.”
The word ‘intimate’ made her skin crawl. Every fiber of her being screamed warnings about Damian that she couldn’t rationally explain.
“I’m so sorry, but I’m feeling under the weather today.” The excuse tumbled out with surprising ease. “I had to leave work early.”
A pause stretched across the line, long enough to feel deliberate. “Nothing serious, I hope?”
“Just exhaustion. Starting a new job is more demanding than I expected.”
“Ah yes, your little assistant position.” Something cold slipped into his tone. “I have to admit, I was surprised to hear you’d taken employment with Leander Drake. Seems beneath someone of your caliber.”
The casual dismissal of her ambitions sparked immediate irritation. Little assistant position? As if her dreams and professional aspirations were merely amusing hobbies rather than genuine desires.
“I find the work very fulfilling,” she said carefully. “Architecture and design have always fascinated me.”
“Of course they have.” His agreement felt patronizing rather than supportive. “Well, perhaps tomorrow evening then? I insist on taking you somewhere special.”
The word ‘insist’ grated against her nerves. She had spent her entire life having men insist on things for her benefit, and the familiar pattern made her want to rebel in ways that would shock her parents.
“Tomorrow would be lovely,” she heard herself say. “I’ll call you once I’m feeling better to confirm the details.”
“Perfect. I look forward to it, Camille. Rest well.”
The call ended, leaving her staring at the phone with growing unease. She had just committed to spending an evening with a man who made every instinct she possessed scream danger, and all because she couldn’t bring herself to be directly confrontational.
Her fingers found Serena’s number before conscious thought could intervene. The familiar comfort of her best friend’s voice was exactly what she needed.
“Cam? How was day two of corporate life?”
“Serena.” The name came out as half-laugh, half-sob. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“That good, huh?” Serena’s tone shifted to concerned attention. “What happened? Did your mysterious boss turn out to be a nightmare?”
“Not exactly.” Camille closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “He’s a lion shifter.”
Silence filled the line for so long Camille wondered if the call had dropped.
“I’m sorry, did you just say—”
“Lion shifter. As in, literally transforms into a lion. Has a pride. Alpha dominance. The whole supernatural package.”
“Holy shit.” Serena’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you serious right now?”
“Completely serious. And Damian—the man my parents want me to date—he’s one too. They’re in the same pride, and apparently they hate each other.”
“This is insane.” The sound of movement came through the phone, as if Serena were pacing. “How are you processing this? Are you safe?”
“I think so.” Camille’s voice carried more uncertainty than she intended. “Leander seems... protective. He took me to dinner last night, and when I nearly fainted today after he told me about the shifter thing, he personally escorted me home.”
“Wait, back up. He took you to dinner? And brought you home when you were sick?” Serena’s tone sharpened with interest. “Cam, that’s not normal boss behavior. He’s interested in you.”
Heat flooded Camille’s cheeks as memories of the previous evening surfaced—the way Leander’s eyes had lingered on her face, the electric tension during their walk, and the protective possessiveness in his voice when he insisted on seeing her safely home.
“It’s not like that,” she protested weakly. “He’s just being considerate.”
“Bullshit.” Serena’s blunt assessment cut through her denial. “Men like that don’t personally escort employees home unless they’re invested. And you said he’s an Alpha? They’re notoriously territorial about things they consider theirs.”
The word ‘theirs’ sent an unwelcome shiver down Camille’s spine—part fear, part something far more dangerous.
“He’s my boss, Serena. Whatever I think I’m feeling is just gratitude for the opportunity and professional admiration for his work.”
“Right. And I’m the Queen of England.” Serena’s skepticism was audible. “When was the last time any man treated you like you mattered for more than your last name and trust fund?”
The question hit too close to home, forcing Camille to confront a truth she had been carefully avoiding.
Carter had never shown genuine interest in her thoughts or dreams. The men at charity events saw her as a beautiful accessory to their ambitions.
Even her parents viewed her primarily as a reflection of their family’s reputation.
But Leander had praised her competence, valued her insights, and protected her without expecting anything in return.
“I need to rest,” she said finally. “This is all too much to process right now.”
“Of course. But Cam? Trust your instincts about both of them. You’ve always been good at reading people when you let yourself.”
After ending the call, Camille remained curled on the sofa as Manhattan’s late afternoon light filtered through the windows. Her instincts were indeed speaking loudly—warning her away from Damian while drawing her toward Leander despite every rational reason to maintain professional distance.
What kind of mess have I walked into?
The job she had thought would provide simple fulfillment and professional growth had become a minefield of supernatural politics and dangerous attractions.
Yet beneath the confusion and fear, one truth remained crystal clear.
She wanted to keep working for Leander. For the first time in her life, someone valued her mind, her capabilities, her authentic self rather than her social currency.
Rising on unsteady legs, Camille made her way to her bedroom, the familiar luxury of silk sheets doing little to calm her racing thoughts. She needed sleep, needed clarity, needed a plan for navigating the impossible situation she found herself in.
As she settled against the pillows, her mind drifted to tomorrow’s challenges.
She would prove to Leander that hiring her had been the right decision, and would demonstrate that she could handle whatever corporate demands he threw her way.
And tomorrow evening, she would face Damian with polite but firm resolve, explaining that her focus needed to remain on her career rather than romantic entanglements.
The decision felt right, responsible, and mature.
Yet as sleep began to claim her, one rebellious thought surfaced with startling clarity. If she were going to explore romantic feelings with anyone, it would be with the green-eyed Alpha who saw her as more than a beautiful ornament to be displayed.
Foolish, she told herself firmly. He’s your boss.
But her heart had never been particularly good at following rules.