Chapter 13
POV: Camille ?
^..3 days later^
I should have felt untouchable. After the weekend at the lake, after the way Michael had held me and the way he spoke, unguarded and his vulnerability, he had shared so much—I should have walked into the charity gala with my head held high and armored by the certainty that he wanted me,
maybe even outside of this damned contract.
Instead, I felt fragile.
Michael’s hand rested briefly at the small of my back as we entered, it was unseen but heavy to me.
It was a simple, guiding touch that lasted less than a second and was gone before anyone could see it.
Then his hand was gone and his expression changed into a composed perfect mask of the man that everyone here expected him to be.
No one in this room could suspect any inkling of a relationship between us, not his board members, not his shareholders, not the other employees who whispered and speculated.
To them, I wasn’t his date. I was simply a guest from his company, a member of his legal department who would serve as a quiet addition to his evening.
And for the first half hour, I managed well.
I smiled when introduced, shook hands, and accepted glasses of champagne I didn’t drink.
But then she appeared.
An elegant blonde woman who wore a silver silk gown that clung to her like it was a second skin.
She approached Michael with the ease of someone who’d known him for years.
Her hand brushed his arm as she leaned in to speak to him, her lips grazing the air beside his cheek in a kiss that was just a little too familiar and made my insides twist.
Michael smiled, it was the same smile he wore for clients or for investors or for the press.
But I felt it like a blow to the gut.
Because for half a heartbeat, it looked real. Like us, real.
The sound around me blurred, the laughter and clinking glasses fading into static.
I tried to remind myself of the rules…that there was a contract in place and though we talked of emotions and daydreams it meant only 6 months.
Only 6 months. That’s all. I wasn’t really his girlfriend.
I wasn’t really his partner. I was his contracted companion.
And talking about something was different than a legal contract, loads different.
But when she touched him again, my blood boiled.
“Camille,” Michael’s voice cut through my anger. “This is Helena Fairfax. We worked together during the London acquisition.”
I plastered on a smile and extended my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Helena’s eyes swept over me. “Charmed.” Then she turned back to Michael as though I weren’t standing there at all.
And something inside me cracked even though I smiled back.
The rest of the night felt like a test that I wasn’t sure I could pass.
Every time Michael laughed with someone else, every time I heard a woman’s voice, my chest tightened. He was careful—so careful—but I saw it anyway, the way others soaked in his attention as though it were currency.
I sipped champagne too quickly and just told myself this was business. I told myself he was only doing what he always did at these events, networking, connecting, and maintaining relationships. I told myslelf that this shouldn’t matter. I told myself that it was business and that’s it.
At one point, Michael excused himself to greet a group across the room and I watched him move with effortless command as the crowd bent toward his every move. And the worst part was that Helena appeared at his side again, her hand resting casually on his arm, like it belonged there.
The sight cut through me.
I set my glass down too hard on a passing tray because I knew that if I stayed another moment, I would break in front of hundreds of people, including him.
I slipped onto the terrace and the cool night air rushed over my overheated skin. I gripped the railing and stared out at the bright city before me. But the pang twisted inside me again.
Jealousy.
Raw, ugly jealousy.
And I hated myself for it.
Because what right did I have? I wasn’t his girlfriend. I wasn’t his partner. I was a contract.
And yet…
I remembered his hand gripping mine as he whispered that this was real.
Contracts didn’t feel like that.
Footsteps sounded from behind me. “Camille.”
I didn’t turn. I knew it was him.
My hands curled against the railing. “Shouldn’t you be inside with her?”
Silence.
Then I heard the sound of footsteps from behind me until he stood beside me. He didn’t touch me. He couldn’t, not here with eyes everywhere. “Look at me,” he said quietly.
And I did.
His gaze searched mine. “You think I want her.”
The words weren’t a question.
My voice broke. “Why wouldn’t you? She’s…”
“She’s not you.”
The force of it stole my breath.
“That doesn’t make a difference to you. It’s all contracts to you,” I told him with conviction.
Michael’s jaw clenched as his hand twitched at his side as though he wanted to reach for me but wouldn’t. “Camille, listen to me. None of them matter, not Helena and not anyone else in that room.”
“Then why do you let them touch you? Why do you smile like that?” I wanted to scream.
“Because that’s the world I live in, Camille. Masks, handshakes, pretending. It’s business. That’s all.”
“It doesn’t feel like business when I’m standing there, Michael. It feels like I’m nothing to you.”
His eyes burned into mine. “You are not nothing. Don’t ever say that again.”
The intensity in his voice and the truth laced into it, made me tremble.
“Then what am I?” My voice cracked as I spoke.
He looked away, then back, as though searching for words he never let himself say aloud. Finally, he spoke. “You’re the only goddamn person in that room that feels real to me. Everyone else is just…playing pretend, going through the motions, and playing the game.”
I wanted to go to him. I wanted his arms, his mouth, and his certainty, desperately in the moment.
But I didn’t move and neither did he.
The distance between us was necessary–it was the cost of the masks we both wore tonight.
But his eyes—God, his eyes—told me everything.
And for the first time truly I felt like a part of me understood what he meant.
Helena, the investors, the employees, they didn’t matter. They never had.
They saw Michael Vanderbilt, billionaire CEO.
But me? I saw the man who had been betrayed and the man underneath the betrayal—the man who had shown me his vulnerabilities, the ones I had accepted instead as strengths.
Inside, the gala droned on without us.
Michael straightened as his composure slipped back into place. “Come,” he said softly. “We shouldn’t be gone this long.”
And I knew he was right.
We had to keep appearances, even though when we were together, we were the furthest thing from who we let the world see.
We were ourselves.