Chapter 26
POV: Camille?
I thought if I kept moving then maybe he wouldn’t catch me.
The morning after his so-called reckoning, I threw myself into the most mundane routine I could think of. The aisles of the neighborhood grocery store, where the hardest decision was whether to pick organic spinach or the non-organic store brand.
It was almost comforting, almost.
I pushed the cart slowly down the aisle and followed my list. My list was simple—eggs, bread, milk, maybe a bottle of cheap wine for the weekend. Real life things. Ordinary things. Things Michael Vanderbilt didn’t touch.
At least, that’s what I thought.
I had just reached for a carton of organic eggs when I felt someone hovering behind me.
“Camille.”
And I froze.
I didn’t have to turn around to know it was him, that voice was etched into my bones that was low and commanding. It felt like it belonged.
Slowly, I pivoted towards him.
And there he was.
He was wearing a sleek black coat and looked like he belonged anywhere but here. He didn’t belong. He never did. And yet, here he was, taking up the whole damn aisle with his presence.
“What are you doing here?” My voice came out in a rushed whisper. My face probably gave it away too. Probably pure beet red.
He cocked a brow as he usually did. “Looking for you.”
His answer was simple, but unsteadying.
My stomach flipped, half panic and half something else I refused to name. “You’re stalking me now?”
His mouth curved, but it wasn’t amusement. It was in frustration. “If that’s what it takes.”
“Michael—” I argued.
He shook his head slightly. “No, Camille, you’ve been avoiding me since last night.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“Maybe that should tell you something.”
“Maybe it tells me you’re running from something you feel.”
God, he always did this.
He always knew how to cut right through me and say the thing I tried hardest not to admit.
“Michael, this is not the time or the place—”
“Then come with me,” he interrupted me quickly. “We’ll talk. There will be no contracts and no games, just us.”
I stared at him as the noise of the store faded around me.
My brain screamed no, but my chest ached with a different answer. Yes.
Finally, I sighed. “Fine, but just to talk.”
“Then let’s go.”
He won again, and he knew it.
And I hated him for it.
I was tired of him winning.
The ride back to his penthouse was silent. I sat stiffly in the leather seat of his sleek black car with my groceries next to me.
He didn’t touch me but his gaze stayed on me more often than the road outside.
When we stepped into the penthouse, it was the same as always. It should have felt intimidating. Instead, it just felt familiar and dangerous, because of how much of myself I’d already left here.
I set the grocery bag on the counter and crossed my arms. “Okay. Well you wanted to talk then talk.” I waved my hand in front of me.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead he paced, running a hand through his dark colored hair and taking his time. Finally, he turned and looked at me, really looked. “You keep pulling away from me. Every time I try, you retreat. Why?”
I laughed bitterly. “Why? Do you really need me to spell it out? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you bought me with a contract and that every time I start to believe this might be real, I remember how it started and you actually tend to remind me, almost everytime.”
His jaw tightened. “I know how it started but that’s not what this is anymore.”
“Isn’t it? Because sometimes it feels like nothing’s changed.
You make grand gestures, you say the right words, but at the end of the day, I’m still the girl you hired to play a part in your life.
You go back and forth from “Camille, remain professional, you know what you signed up for to Camille, I want this, this is real.”
He stepped closer to me, enticing me some more. “You think that’s all you are to me? I’m being honest with myself and you, now.”
I didn’t respond and I didn’t look at him.
“Camille, look at me!”
“I am looking at you and all I see is a man who doesn’t know how to separate business from intimacy and all I see is a man who thinks control equals love!”
The words hung in the air.
But instead of snapping back, he exhaled slowly.
“You’re right. That’s who I was. That’s who I still fight to be, because control is the only way I’ve ever known how to survive. But with you…”
He shook his head, almost in disbelief. “With you, it’s different, Camille. You tear it all down, all of my barriers and it terrifies me.”
“Michael—” I shook my head, not believing him.
He cut me off, stepping closer until only inches separated us.
“Do you want to know the truth? The truth is I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day you walked into my office. The truth is you make me lose control and I don’t know how to handle it. And the truth is, I’d give up every ounce of control I’ve built my life on if it meant keeping you.”
My breath caught in my throat.
I couldn’t breathe. At. All.
Then he kept going, “You wanted clarity? That’s it—I want you, Camille. And not the contract—not the arrangement. You, just you.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
I wanted to believe him. God, I did.
His words rang with something deeper than just mere control. For the first time, I saw the raw, vulnerable version, the version that I’d never imagined Michael Vanderbilt could be.
But it was too much or too late–maybe even both.
“You say that now but how do I know it won’t change? You’ve gone back and forth on this for months. How do I know I won’t just become another name in your hidden files, just another 6 month contract that you regret?”
His eyes softened. “Because you already are more. You’ve been more from the beginning and I’m done denying it.”
“Michael—”
“No, Camille. Don’t walk away from this. Don’t walk away from me. Do you think I don’t notice how you look at me? Do you think I don’t feel how much you want this too?”
The intensity in his voice hit me like fire, searing through every defense I’d tried to build up between us. And in that moment, I hated him. I hated how much he saw me and I hated how much I wanted to believe him.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” I admitted.
“Then let me prove it. I’ll prove it every damn day, if that’s what it takes. But don’t pretend there’s nothing here. Please don’t pretend like I don’t mean something to you too, Camille.”
He reached for me then, his hand hovered right above my cheek as he waited for my permission…and that was new.
For the first time, Michael Vanderbilt wasn’t trying to control me, he was actually giving me a choice.
My heart pounded as I leaned into his touch.
And then I saw it—the depth of his emotions.
He wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t safe. But he was real.
The question was—was it enough?
As I stood in his penthouse, staring at the man who’d just let out every single wall he’d built, I knew one thing for certain.
He meant what he said. But the question was did I?