BILLONIARE SECRETARY BABY

Chapter 13

The return journey to Cape Town felt endless. Christain and Cami barely exchanged a word between Narita airport and Cape Town International. They separated in Dubai for much-needed showers in the first-class lounge, and Cami picked listlessly at some fruit while waiting for the boarding call of their next flight. She didn’t see Christain at all between disembarking and boarding in Dubai, and she preferred it that way. The privacy of their first-class suites, which had been new and exciting to Cami on the way to Tokyo, had merely made the flight back to Cape Town tolerable because she didn’t have to see him and could actually manage to squeeze in a few hours of sleep.

The cold, windy, and gray weather of Cape Town suited Cami’s mood perfectly. She was moody, exhausted, her knee still hurt, and she just wanted to get home. Christain caught up with her after they had both cleared customs and baggage claim, just before they stepped into the arrivals lounge. He grabbed hold of her elbow and turned her toward him.

“The car will take you home first. I’m sure you must be tired.”

“Car?”

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“My driver, James, will be picking us up. Remember?”

“I assumed I would have to find my own way home from here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll drop you off first.” He steered her toward the door to the arrivals lounge, and she jerked her arm from his grip before coming to a standstill. The other first- and business-class passengers gave them curious looks as they streamed by.

“There’s no need for that. I’ve made alternative arrangements.”

His jaw tightened. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s done.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but after a brief hesitation, he shrugged and strode away from her without another word. She watched him go, hating how conflicted she felt. She should feel relief that their messy little interlude was over and that he was gone, not regret and longing and pain.

She followed him out into the arrivals lounge and saw her best friend almost immediately. Cal—her ex–dance partner—was easy to spot because, aside from Christain, he was one of the tallest men she knew. He stood head and shoulders above everyone else in the crowd. She saw his tousled blond hair before he saw her five-foot-one frame and black hair, which wasn’t as easy to spot in a crowd of people. When he did finally see her, his handsome face broke into a huge grin, and he waved enthusiastically. Cami fought her way past the jostling mass of people and flung herself at him. She was just so relieved to see a friendly face that she couldn’t help herself. He lifted her clear off the floor—it had always been so easy for him to pick her up—and hugged her warmly, enfolding her completely in his arms. Cal was the best hugger.

She clung to him, feeling safe and cocooned in his embrace, and her urgency and desperation must have been obvious because his arms tightened.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he muttered. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

She shook her head and kept her nose buried in his neck. She loved the familiar smell of him. He put her down and gently removed her arms from his neck, wanting to see her face.

“What’s happened?” Damn him, he knew her too well. And everything she felt was still too fresh to hide from him.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” A surreptitious glance around informed her that they’d attracted a bit of attention from passersby, and she knew that Christain was probably close by as well.

“Okay.” Bless him, he was always so understanding. He looked around for her bag—a single medium-size roller suitcase—and raised a dubious brow when he saw it.

“You’re such a miserly little packer. How did you survive a week in Tokyo with just that little bag?” he asked as he grabbed her elbow with one hand and the suitcase handle with the other.

“I didn’t exactly have time to socialize. This was sufficient.”

“I would need a bag that size for hair product alone,” he said dismissively, and she giggled, surprising herself.

“Don’t I know it?”

“Magnificence like this”—he tossed his hair for emphasis—“doesn’t come easily.”

Another giggle. Cal was exactly what she needed right now. She hooked her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder and let his nonsense chatter wash over her like a soothing balm as he led her toward where he’d parked.

Christain watched Cami leave with that blond behemoth; she was clinging to the man’s arm and staring up at him adoringly as they walked away. So much for thinking he’d hurt her back in Tokyo. He’d had an uncharacteristic flash of conscience when he’d said the things necessary to get her to sign that nondisclosure agreement. It had been dirty and unfair, but it had gotten the job done. Still, Christain wasn’t a complete monster. He felt moved by her tears and even a little guilty in the face of her obvious distress. But to see her now with that guy was like watching an entirely different person, and he was glad he hadn’t been completely taken in by her little-girl-lost act back in Tokyo. He always protected himself: condoms and nondisclosure agreements without exception. No unwanted pregnancies and no unwanted scandals. It kept things clean and uncomplicated, which was exactly the way he preferred his life. Women served a purpose, and until Cami they had all known exactly what they were getting into with him. He was on shaky legal ground getting her to sign it the way he had, but without it he felt naked and vulnerable. Feelings he would never admit to out loud.

Still, despite the fact that his bullying tactics had left a bad taste in his mouth, he couldn’t regret the fact that he had stooped to them. It was over now. The document was safely signed and would be notarized as soon as possible.

He had a very brief flash of regret that he wouldn’t experience Cami Gaspy in his bed again before he put her firmly out of his mind.

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. FOUR

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually hated someone before,” Cami confessed as she licked the salt off the rim of her margarita. She paused for a moment and thought about what she’d just said. “But God, I hate that man so much. The thought of seeing him again on Monday turns my stomach, and I’m so tempted to quit this job.”

“You can’t quit, hon.” Cal tut-tutted. “Who’ll pay the rent or buy the food? Until I find a job, you’re the only one keeping this boat afloat.”

“You’ll find something soon, Cal.” She patted his broad shoulder a little drunkenly before going back to contemplate her curiously unsatisfying frozen margarita again. “Now, can we please focus on my predicament?”

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“Okay, so the guy is a world-class asshole,” Cal recapped. “He treated you shabbily, which would earn him a well-deserved punch in the face if he were here right now, and you hate him but still have to work with him.”

Cami nodded morosely, the pit in her stomach increasing with every word. She put aside her half-finished drink¸ wishing she actually felt like getting rip-roaring drunk. It might have helped a little.

“Now, what I really want to know”—Cal leaned forward conspiratorially—“is he any good in the sack?”

Cami sighed.

“He’s fantastic, and that just makes me hate him more. Should I even be telling you all of this? I mean, I feel like I’m breaking that stupid contract with every syllable I utter.”

“You probably are.” Cal shrugged. “But if I can trust you to keep all my sordid secrets—you could sink me if you wanted to and you know it—then you can trust me with this.”

And she did trust Cal; he was like a second brother to her. Her dance partner for years, he had seen her through all her trials and tribulations. He felt responsible for her fall and had been her emotional support while she’d tried to come to terms with everything she’d lost after the accident. He was the only one who truly understood. Matt didn’t get it¸ her nondancing friends didn’t get it, but Cal got it. Cal knew what it was like to feel alive only when you were dancing, and he recognized that she felt like the most important part of her had died after the accident. He was the one who’d gotten her out of bed in the mornings, had taken her to physical therapy, had bossed her into dancing again, even though she was just a shadow of her former self. He had helped her understand that while she would never again be the supremely talented dancer who had once had dance companies vying for her attention, she could still dance. It was in her blood, a part of her physical makeup, and she would never lose it completely.

“All I’m saying is that the man is seriously hot,” Cal said. “And if he wasn’t so obviously and uncompromisingly hetero, I would happily make a play for him.”

“You’re way too good for the likes of him,” Cami said.

“As are you,” he said, completely serious.

“You’re the best, Cal.” She sighed and leaned in for a hug. He complied and she sagged against him, letting him support her slight weight.

“I’m so glad we’re roomies,” she crooned, and when he laughed, the sound had a bitter edge to it.

“Not exactly roomies,” he corrected. “More like freeloader and working stiff.”

“You’re not a freeloader, Cal. We’ve all been through rough spots, and you’ve done so much for me . . .” She had difficulty talking around the lump in her throat. “So don’t you dare denigrate yourself like that in front of me again, okay?”

“Yes, miss,” he teased, making an effort to shake off his obvious depression, even though she could tell that it lingered just beneath the surface. “Now tell me more. I want to know everything—length, girth, angle. Pointing downward, straight ahead, or kissing the navel?”

“Seriously?” She choked back a laugh.

“Well, if that thing points down, it just looks flaccid and . . . I dunno, incapable somehow.”

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Why not? You told me all about Frank Whatsisface’s, remember?”

“I did not. This is the first time I can recall us discussing the angle of any guy’s erection.”

“True,” he conceded, after some thought. “But that Frank guy was really boring. I wasn’t interested in hearing about his antics in bed.”

“Come on, he was nice.”

“And boring.”

“He was always really sweet to me.”

“And super boring.”

Cami sighed. She really couldn’t argue with him. Frank Sharp, whom she’d dated for two months and slept with twice—in the same night—had been a regular snoozefest. Both in bed and out of it. Cami had actually fallen asleep during the s*x act, both times. Not her finest moment. She had broken it off with him immediately after that and hadn’t dated anyone else in more than a year. Christain was the first man she’d slept with since then, and poor Frank couldn’t compete with that. Most men would have difficulty competing with a guy like Christain Greys.

“I’m not going to discuss the matter any further,” Cami said decisively. “I’ve probably broken a dozen of his stupid nondisclosure rules just by telling you about it. Best to let the matter rest and pretend it never happened.”

Cal gave her a long, level look and she dodged his gaze. He could look as skeptical as he liked, but Cami was going to pretend it never happened if it killed her!

Cami had all weekend to think about what she would say and how she would act when she saw Christain again on Monday. She practiced her cool, slightly disdainful looks in the mirror, and her professional “Good morning, sir,” “Yes, sir,” “No, sir,” and “As you wish, sir” out loud every morning and evening. Yet, she was still a bundle of nerves when she walked into the office Monday morning. He must have come to the office at some point over the weekend, because even though he clearly hadn’t arrived yet, there was a Dictaphone full of e-mails she had to get ready, and two A4-size manila envelopes with her name sitting in the middle of her desk. She frowned at the envelopes before picking up the flatter one. She took a deep breath and stuck her finger beneath the flap to open it. The sheaf of papers inside was exactly what she’d been