Chapter 19
POV: Camille ?
^..A few days later..^
There’s nothing quite like watching the man you’re sleeping with lean just a little too close to another woman in a crowded restaurant to remind you that you are actually not in control of your own life. At all.
It was supposed to be a boring old company event, just another opportunity for staff to relax, sip overpriced wine, and pretend we were actually valued and appreciated at Vanderbilt.
I’d even convinced myself it might be fun.
Until I saw Michael cosying up to another woman.
We’d be on pins and needles for weeks now—up and down—hot and cold.
I was able to play it cool, to pretend like the contract and our relationship wasn’t affecting me professionally and personally, when in reality we both knew it was.
But a few dirty martinis later…I was back to spiraling. Again.
Luckily, just internally for now but soon enough who knows.
He was at the far end of the private dining room and the worst part was that his gaze was fixed not on me—but on her.
Some woman who was blonde and leggy. She was the kind of flawless that came along with having a personal trainer and a dermatologist on retainer.
She laughed at something he said, her hand brushing his arm casually, just casually enough that most people might’ve missed it but I—I couldn’t stop staring.
And Michael? Well, he didn’t flinch, he just stood beside her calmly. Which, apparently, was the same way he treated me half the time and I allowed it.
That was the worst part…
I allowed it.
Like it was normal–like it was part of our agreement—the contract, everything.
My chest burned from the very thought.
I downed half my martini in one gulp and muttered to myself, “Oh no, not today, not tonight. I’m not doing this.”
But I had already done it.
I had already allowed it.
Because jealousy has a way of grabbing you by the throat and squeezing until you can’t breathe properly.
I stopped myself before I walked towards them. I stopped myself in place and told myself that it wasn’t worth it, that the contract was just a contract, and that I was becoming a girl I swore I wouldn’t become.
So instead I tried to focus on my colleagues and on my plus one, who happened to be Jenna this evening.
“Cam, you’re glaring at him like you’re about to sue him personally,” she whispered, nudging me with her elbow, sipping her martini. “Subtlety. Try it.”
“I’m not glaring,” I said, shaking my head.
“You’re glaring so hard you might set his hair on fire. Which, honestly, would be a service to humanity, but still girl, you should try to dial it back.”
I forced my lips into what I hoped was a neutral smile but I knew my face showed otherwise.
I tried to pay attention to the music—the sound of laughter and dancing, even Jenna’s funny remarks but every time I saw her hand linger on his arm but the knot in my chest constricted.
I tried to not look but I couldn’t help myself.
Even Jenna knew it, though she tried to ignore it and cheer me up by singing loudly and incessantly in my ear.
An hour ticked by and most of the crowd had drifted toward dessert tables and after dinner drinks and that’s when I decided that I finally had enough.
So I stalked toward him before Jenna could stop me as jealousy flooded through my veins.
His eyes reached mine in an instant. He didn’t look amused. In fact, he didn’t look emotional at all.
Of course he didn’t.
His eyes flicked to mine before he excused himself from the blonde bimbo at his side for the last hour and a half with a polite nod.
“Camille,” he said, his eyes flickering down to my lips instinctively.
“Don’t,” I snapped back to him, trying to lower my tone as I looked around the restaurant. “Don’t pretend like nothing is happening.”
His brows lifted. “Humor me, Camille. What, exactly, do you think is happening?”
There’s that smug demeanor back again.
I scoffed. “Don’t play games with me, Michael. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” My gaze drew over to…her.
He exhaled slowly, like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “We’re at a company event. I was speaking to a potential investor, Camille. That’s all.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Potential investor? Please. She was practically undressing you with her eyelashes.”
His hand made its way to my shoulder, turning me an inch to whisper into my ear and infuriate me further. “Are you jealous?”
The question lit me on fire and so did his touch. “Are you serious? After everything, you’re really going to stand here and ask me that?”
“I’m asking because jealousy implies something more than our arrangement.”
There it was.
The wall. The word. Arrangement.
Again. All. Over. Again.
I tugged away from his grasp. “Stop it! Stop pretending like this is just about the contract and stop acting like I’m the only one feeling something when you’re the one who can’t keep your hands off me!”
For a moment, I thought he might actually admit it and that he might finally say the words I’d been desperate to hear.
“Fine Camille, I’ll rip up the contract and we can live happily ever after together just as you want.”
But it was a fantasy. A complete fantasy.
Because when he spoke, it was ice cold. “Camille, this isn’t the place.”
“Of course it isn’t,” I argued, hoping the other employees didn’t see.
But when I turned to look, everyone was still laughing and dancing and not even looking towards us, and the blonde had since excused herself after hearing our hushed whispers.
“It’s never the place, Michael and it’s never the time. There’s always tomorrow, always later, and always locked behind that goddamn mask you wear! And I’m tired of it!”
I turned on my heel eager to get out of here before the tears fell down my cheeks.
But his hand shot out, gripping my wrist and holding me in place. “Camille.”
It was just a single word. My name.
I heard it millions of times before, but when he said it, it made the whole world stop.
I froze in place, angry but hurt. “Let me go!”
His grip loosened, but he didn’t move aside. He stood between me and the exit. “I know that’s the last thing that you want from me, Camille.”
“I just want things to be…normal.”
“Normal?” he smirked, almost as if it was funny. “We shouldn’t complicate a good thing, Camille.”
“But…” I wanted to argue. I needed to argue.
“But?” he smirked.
I needed to feel something besides indifference from him.
I wanted to see him flustered, even if it was temporary, even if it was fleeting, I wasn’t willing to give that up just yet. Hell, I was naive and immature to believe that things could change especially when I stood in the way of things changing, but I needed to feel something again. With him.
“I hate that you’re like this, Michael,” I finally admitted.
His jaw ticked but he remained silent.
I let out a heavy sigh. “I hate that when you’re not inside me, you’re emotionless. But when you are, you act like you’re devoted—devoted beyond the contract, devoted beyond the excitement, you act like you truly care for me, then as soon as you let your mask slip just an inch,
it’s back on and firmer than ever.”
He flinched, as if I said something that might’ve struck a nerve.
There it was, emotion even for a moment.
Then he said quickly, “Camille, I like being like this. I like having control—over business, life, and my relationships. But I also like the way you make me feel and that’s not complicated, that shouldn’t be complicated.”
For a moment, the two of us just stood there—locked in a battle neither of us could win. And then something inside me snapped.
I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I couldn’t take the distance, the contradictions, or the way he went back to pretending.
So I did the only reckless and irrational thing that my body demanded.
I grabbed his belt.
His eyes widened as my fingers unzipped his pants and as I stepped closer, pushing him towards the wall as my dress hiked up my thighs.
“Camille…” his eyes showed just what I needed to see—emotion.
But I cut him off with a whisper against his ear. “I need you, Michael. Now.”
Desire. Jealousy. Anger. It all tangled together until I couldn’t tell them apart.
I just needed him to remind me—physically, undeniably—that I was wanted, even if he would go back to his cold self after this. I needed to pretend everything was okay.
He cursed under his breath, fuck.
The next thing I knew, he was tugging me down the hallway and into a dimly lit private bathroom. He bolted the lock and then his mouth was on mine.
He spun me around and pushed me against the sink, my ass facing him as his hands gripped my hips roughly.
“You drive me insane Camille,” he growled, his lips trailing down my neck. “You’re addictive. Your jealousy—your need to try to control me—your need to change things that were set in stone.”
I didn’t respond, instead I moaned.
Then he shoved my dress higher, tracing circles on my skin.
“Michael…” I moaned, but the rest of my words dissolved into a cry as he drew his pants to his knees then slid his underwear off then pushed his cock at my entrance. Then one thrust and he was inside me, roughly, spreading me open for him.
The force of it stole my breath. My nails dug into the porcelain sink as he thrusted again, slapping my ass with the movement.
“Mine,” he growled against my ear. “Do you hear me, Camille? Mine. You’re mine. Everytime I’m inside you, everytime I’m not….you’re mine. You belong to me. That should be enough of a reminder.”
Tears pricked my eyes as he thrusted again, digging his fingers into my hips. “Then stop pretending like it’s not real.”
His pace faltered for a split second, like my words had pierced through that impenetrable armor. But then he groaned, thrusting harder, like the only language he trusted was this,our bodies colliding as we fucked.
“Say it,” I begged in a whisper. “Say it’s real.”
But he responded with another thrust.
And we collapsed together against the sink as the room spun around us. He was still inside me, his chin draped over my backside.
For a moment, it was perfect.
But then he pulled back, adjusting himself and removing himself from inside me, as his mask slid back into place.
I caught my reflection in the mirror.
And I realized I’d gotten what I wanted.
But not what I needed.
We left the bathroom separately, pretending like it never happened, as we usually did.
And I wondered—no I knew—that I was falling in love with a man who didn’t know how to love me back.