Our Little Secret (Stepping Into Trouble #1)

1. Camryn

One

Camryn

I suck in a shuddering breath and hastily wipe my shaking hands across my damp cheeks.

I don’t want anyone to know I’ve been crying, because then they’ll ask why I’ve been crying, and then I’ll have to relive one of the most humiliating nights of my life instead of trying to pretend I’m fine and that it didn’t happen.

I’m usually pretty good at pretending I’m fine, but I don’t know that I have it in me tonight.

I take another deep breath, trying to steady myself, and start walking towards the elevator that will take me up to penthouse where I live with my mother and stepfather.

My heels echo against the polished marble, and the fabric of my expensive emerald green prom dress swishes as I walk, the ripped skirt dragging on the floor behind me.

I can still hear the sound of the fabric rending when Daphne St. John “accidentally” stepped on it. I can still hear the raucous laughter, can still feel the way my face flamed as I dashed out of the hotel ballroom.

I can still hear Nathan’s voice, telling his friends he’d never be caught dead dancing with me.

I press my hands to my ears as I wait for the elevator, just trying to breathe.

It finally comes, and I lean against the cool mirrored wall as the elevator whisks me up to the fiftieth floor.

When I emerge into the penthouse, it’s dark and quiet.

Martha, our cook and housekeeper, is gone for the day, and my mother and stepfather probably aren’t home.

She’s always out—at charity events that are little more than an excuse to parade around in designer clothes, at art gallery openings or the theatre, having drinks with friends.

And my stepfather—Jacob—basically lives at his office.

He runs a banking empire, and it takes up all of this time and attention, and affords us a sickeningly luxurious lifestyle.

It’s because of him that mother pulled me out of public school and sent me to one of the most exclusive private schools in Toronto.

I hate it. I’ve never belonged. I’m the chubby girl who loves books.

Who’s smart and studious, who doesn’t drink or do drugs, who didn’t grow up in a world of wealth and luxury.

We’re rich because two years ago, my mother married Jacob Brooks.

We moved into his penthouse and started pretending like it was where we belonged.

I kick off my high heels and move into the living room, the lights of the city sparkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Fresh tears threaten to fall as I sink down onto the couch, my tattered skirt fanning out around me.

It all wells up inside me, like air trying to escape a balloon, and I can’t hold it in anymore. A sob breaks free, and I let it all out. Tears streak down my face, probably taking my carefully applied mascara with them.

I lose track of time as I sit in the dark and let the pain and humiliation wash over me, and I’m startled when I hear a voice behind me.

“Camryn?”

Fresh embarrassment washes over me as my stepfather moves into the living room. He’s wearing a white button down with the first few buttons open and black pants, but his feet are bare. He’s holding a crystal glass of amber liquid in his huge hand.

I wipe at my cheeks with the backs of my hands and quickly stand. “Sorry, I was just going to bed.”

He sidesteps, blocking my path.

“What’s wrong?” His deep voice rolls over me like velvet, and I bite my lip, blood rushing to my face for an entirely different reason now.

“Just a bad night. I don’t want to talk about it.” I look down at the floor, suddenly fascinated by the lilac-coloured polish on my toes.

Jacob sets his drink down on a table and steps closer. I suck in a little breath when I feel his fingers beneath my chin. He exerts gentle pressure, forcing me to face him.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asks, and while his voice is still quiet, neutral, there’s a darkness flashing in his eyes that makes my stomach twist in a way I don’t quite understand.

“No,” I say, then “Yes,” when he narrows his eyes at me. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just kids being stupid.”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t remove his hand. He looks at me, his gaze taking a slow walk over my body. A muscle in his jaw jumps.

“Your dress is ripped.”

“I…I’m so sorry. I’ll…I’ll pay you back for it…” I say, trailing off weakly because I don’t have any money of my own.

“I don’t care about the money. I care about what happened to you, Camryn.” I meet his gaze and get a little lost in their gray depths. Shadows highlight the masculine planes of his handsome face, although handsome doesn’t feel like the right word.

Jacob Brooks is devastating.

“I’m fine,” I say in a shaky whisper. “I’m fine.” My voice cracks on the last syllable, and fresh tears slip down my cheeks.

It’s a lie, and we both know it.

Jacob’s hand moves, dropping from my chin to my shoulder, holding me steady as I blink furiously, trying to stop crying.

I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, especially not him.

Not the man I live with who makes me feel…

everything I shouldn’t feel, when it comes to him.

He’s my stepfather. My mother’s husband.

My obsessive crush.

“You’re not fine. You’re crying. Your dress is ripped.” Shame spirals through me, making it hard to breathe. The air leaves my lungs in shaky bursts, and I clench and unclench my fists.

“I’m not fine,” I say, shoulders sagging. “I’m not fine at all.”

And then Jacob does something he’s never done in the almost three years I’ve known him.

He hugs me. He pulls me into his arms and holds me against his hard, broad chest. The scent of him—expensive cologne, warm skin, clean clothing—envelops me like a blanket and every single muscle in my body goes loose and languid.

Suddenly this horrible, awful night feels a little less shitty.

Tentatively, I slip my arms around his waist, and I can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. I can feel how big and solid he is. How strong and firm. The top of my head barely reaches his shoulder. He towers over me, and I like it. For once, I feel small. Delicate. Precious.

He strokes a hand over my hair and makes a low soothing noise that rumbles through his chest and against my cheek. I press my face into his chest, wanting his comfort, his warmth. I feel safe from the outside world here in my stepfather’s arms. He’s like a wall between me and everything bad.

He makes that low, soothing noise again and strokes my hair, petting me like I’m a little kitten.

Heat pulses low in my stomach, and I realize I’m breathing a little faster.

“Tell me what happened, Cam,” he says, and I snuggle into him even more, as if I can burrow inside him and never emerge.

I open my mouth, and it all pours out. I tell him about Daphne stepping on my dress and ripping it on purpose, saying she didn’t know they let fat cows come to prom.

I tell him about the laughter, the humiliation, the shock that someone would be so openly cruel.

He listens without saying anything, but I can feel the tension in the band of his arms around me, the shift in his breathing.

“Those entitled little shits,” he growls, and I’m probably a complete pervert for thinking it’s hot. But I can’t help it. Everything Jacob Brooks does is hot. Ev-er-y thing. “Names.”

“What?” I pull back just enough to look up at him. His brows are a dark slash over his eyes, and that muscle in his jaw is jumping again.

“I need the names of who did this to you. Everyone who laughed.”

“Why?”

The corner of his mouth ticks up and I liquefy slightly. “So I can ruin them, of course.”

He’s kidding. Right?

He doesn’t look like he’s kidding. At all.

Well. That’s hot.

He strokes a hand over my hair. “I’m waiting, Camryn.” There’s something in his tone that makes me shift, rubbing my thighs together. God, he wouldn’t be treating me this way if he knew the thoughts I’m having about him. The thoughts I have about him on a regular basis.

I let out a nervous little laugh and then rattle off a list of names. He nods and nestles me back against his chest with his hand on the back of my head. “Good girl,” he says in a low voice that has my stomach flipping over on itself.

I’m a ridiculous mess over this man.

“But that’s not the worst part,” I say after a moment, and his arms tighten around me again.

“Tell me.”

I hesitate for a second, and he gives my hair a gentle tug. I have to bite my lip to stop from whimpering. I take a deep breath and then press my face into his chest as I tell him about Nathan telling his friends he’d never be caught dead dancing with me.

I’m crying again now as the entire evening replays in my mind. My chest hurts and my skin feels raw, like I’m sunburned from the inside out.

Jacob’s hands flex against me and then he tips my chin up again, forcing me to meet his eyes. They look like a storm over the ocean, dark and intense.

“I want you to look at me as I say this. Those kids are small. They’re entitled.

They’re worthless. They’re spoiled, and above anything else, they’re cruel.

And their small, thoughtless, cruel words aren’t worth your tears, Camryn.

” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and my eyes flutter closed for a second.

“Look at me,” he says, and I do. Gladly.

“Let me tell you what I see when I look at you.” I press my lips together, preparing myself for platitudes.

“I see a beautiful young woman.” I suck in a surprised breath, and he holds my gaze as he continues.

“You, Camryn, are so, so lovely. In every single way.”

“You think I’m lovely?” I ask quietly, and he nods.

“I do. And you deserved to have a magical night.”

I blink back tears, but they’re no longer tears of humiliation. I’m touched at the sincerity of his words. “It definitely was not magical,” I manage, wiping at my eyes again. “I didn’t even get to dance.”

Jacob pauses, studying my face. “Then dance with me, sweetheart.”