Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  “I’m fine,” I say, but I take the plate anyway. The selfless gesture only adds to the mix of conflicting thoughts and emotions concerning her.

  “What have you been doing?” Her gaze flits around the room.

  “What do you care?” I’m angry and I’ve got no idea why.

  “I don’t. I was just trying to be nice. Why are you being a dick about it?” The bewilderment in her tone softens my ire.

  “Sorry.” I blow out a deep breath, trying to rein in my feelings. “This is nice. I appreciate it. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  We stare at each other. Her fingers curl at her sides. A wave of awareness prickles over my skin. When her gaze dips to my mouth, everything south of my belt buckle tightens.

  “Well, I’d better go.” She takes a wary step backward, like I’m going to jump on her.

  I clear my throat and sit on the edge of the bed. “Who was that guy? The one by the pool.”

  “Giles. Giles Robilliard.” The way she watches me makes my heart stutter. “He’s a friend of my father’s.”

  “He’s a little old for you, don’t you think?” The words are tinged with a jealousy I can’t hide.

  One corner of her mouth curls up. “Maybe.” And with that, she turns, steps into the hallway and closes the door behind her.

  I’m left alone in the room with my food and resentment. I don’t know Giles Robilliard, but I hate him almost as much as I hate my dad.

  9

  Cam

  Today

  After a sleepless night, I get up extra early, run a few miles at the hotel gym then join Tristan for breakfast. In the car on the way to the restaurant, I call my general contractor and ask him to speed up the remodel on my city apartment. I’ve got to get the fuck away from her before I go crazy. By the time I reach Tristan’s table, I’m agitated again.

  Tristan lifts his eyebrows at the sight of my unshaven jaw and bloodshot eyes. When his mouth opens, I lift a finger. “Not a word, Avondale.”

  “No idea what you’re talking about.” Tristan studies the menu, but one corner of his mouth twitches. The waitress drops a plate of steaming biscuits on the table and winks at Tristan.

  “Good.” The thought of food turns my stomach, but I order pancakes anyway. Because—well—pancakes. I’ve never passed them up before, and I’m not starting now.

  “By the way, thanks for returning my texts last night. I ran into two gorgeous friends who were dying to meet you. Do you not understand the meaning of two-for-one?”

  “Unlike you, my life doesn’t revolve around getting laid.” My reply sends Tristan into merry laughter. I’m reminded of Vanessa’s reprimand the previous day. Not everything is about sex and money. Three years as a paid escort taught me otherwise. People will do crazy things to get laid, and—fortunately for me—they’ll pay a lot of money to keep their secrets quiet.

  “Seriously, you missed out, buddy.” He adds four spoons of sugar to his coffee. The liquid sloshes into the saucer when he stirs.

  “I doubt it.” Since Tristan’s divorce, he’s been screwing his way around the city like a madman. Although I enjoy an occasional night out on the town, it’s not the most important aspect of my life. I prefer the quiet of my country house to the false pretenses of the nightclub scene.

  “Lucky for you, I got their digits. We can give them a call this weekend. Maybe head out on the yacht? Or hit one of the clubs?” Tristan is a diehard clubber. He’s got connections at hotspots across the country, mostly due to his family name and reputation as a big spender.

  “I’m busy.” Female companionship doesn’t remotely interest me today. Not after the encounter with Vanessa. The scent of her perfume lingers in my memory. I can still feel the press of her breasts against my chest in the elevator.

  “Since when? Last week it was your favorite pastime.” Unlike most of my friends, Tristan doesn’t hesitate to call me out. It’s one of the reasons I trust him with my business. He’s never been afraid to voice his opinion.

  “Since now.” Work is my solace. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been able to control in my life. The harder I work; the more success comes my way. The more successful I am, the greater my freedom. I run a finger around the edge of my collar. I don’t like having my motives questioned. To ease the constriction, I loosen the top button, but the discomfort remains.

  “Wow, someone’s pissy today. Maybe if you got laid, you’d be a little less grumpy.” He shrugs, unfazed by my irritation, and turns the conversation to business. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” He transfers three biscuits onto his plate, slathering them with butter and jelly. The aroma unsettles my stomach.

  “I want a rundown of Seaforth Media’s assets and what it would take to buy Vanessa out.” I relax, comforted by the familiar territory of business.

  Tristan raises the biscuit to his mouth then lowers it as my words sink in. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m dead freaking serious. It’s time to separate myself from the Seaforths.” Until Vanessa took Maxwell’s place, I couldn’t have cared less about Seaforth Media. Now, it’s all I can think about. I can’t stand the thought of her touching something I created, something I built with my own hands, something that’s mine.

  Tristan takes a sip of coffee before speaking again. “I know how badly you wanted Maxwell’s place at the helm of Seaforth Industries. Just because you didn’t get to take over, doesn’t mean you’re out of the game. Your net worth quadrupled over the past year. You made the Forbes list. You’re crushing the Seaforths in growth and scope. Screw them. In another year or two, they’ll be eating your dust.” He grins and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Dude, you’ve made it. Live a little.”

  When Vanessa left me, I never looked back, never questioned my goals. I seized every opportunity, knocking down anyone who got in my way, desperate to prove my worth. My take-no-prisoners attitude pissed a lot of people off. It also put a ton of money in my pockets. The partnership with Maxwell had been a strategic move, more lucrative than I’d ever hoped, and responsible for a good portion of my success. The Seaforth name offered credibility where I had none. And, although I don’t want to admit it, the alliance kept Vanessa in my periphery.

  I crumple the paper napkin in my fist. She stole my heart and my place at the head of Seaforth Industries. No way will I let her take my creation and make it hers. “I want it back. All of it. It’s mine.”

  “Why?” For the first time this morning, the playful smirk drops from his face.

  The waitress drops off our check. Her phone number is scrawled across the bottom. I hand it to Tristan. “Because I can.”

  10

  Cam

  Twelve Years Ago

  The household staff has been given a few days off while the Avondales attend a wedding in Nantucket. The house is mine to wander for the weekend. I plan to spend time in the workout room, swim laps in the pool, maybe go hiking through the woods to the south of the property. Anything to burn off the sexual frustration Vanessa has left building inside me.

  As soon as their limo leaves for the airport, I grab a towel from the bathroom, intending to head to the workout room on the top floor. When I shut the door, Vanessa steps out of her room in front of me. Tight white riding breeches mold to every curve and dimple of her sweet ass. Her hair is piled high upon her hair in a messy bun. And, as if that’s not enough to tempt me, in her left hand, she carries a leather riding crop.

  Sweet Mother of God.

  We stare at each other.

  Her step stutters. She glances from me to the door like she wants to dive back inside the bedroom. After a heartbeat, she straightens her shoulders and looks me squarely in the eyes. Damn if that look doesn’t travel straight to my groin.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought you’d be at the wedding.”

  Our words tumble over each other. Like a fool, I assumed she’d be traveling with the Avondales. Of course, they’d never leave me a
lone in their house. What was I thinking? I shove a hand through my hair. Her appearance puts an unexpected kink in my plans. I frown.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t get in your way.” She ducks her head and sidesteps around me.

  “Wait. Where are you going?” Now, why did I say that? I don’t want to know, but I can’t stop my feet from traveling after her.

  She glances over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Can I come with you?” I have no idea where she’s going, but I’m not ready for her to leave yet. I want to know more about the guy at the pool, what he means to her, and why she’d give him the time of day when she could have anyone she wants. Like me. The revelation stops my heart for a half second.

  “Why?” With an impatient sigh, she stops and turns to face me. She pats the looped end of the crop in the palm of her leather glove. My heart starts back up again. I’ve never been into the whole fuck-me-spank-me deal, but her tight pants and whip could change my mind. “You haven’t spoken to me all week.”

  “I’ve been busy.” My eyes dip automatically to her lips. Damn if I don’t want to kiss her. Now that the idea is in my head, I can’t make it go away.

  “I noticed.” The intensity of her gaze takes my breath. Sunlight refracts through the leaded glass window at the top of the landing and casts prisms on the Turkish rug. When Vanessa lifts her chin, a stray beam illuminates her eyes, and they’re so green that I forget all the reasons why I need to stay away from her.

  “Whatever this is—” I twirl a finger between us, “—it’s probably not a good thing.”

  “I agree.” Her shoulders relax a little. “Probably not.”

  “Maybe we can be friends.” I don’t know where this brilliant idea comes from. I haven’t been friends with a girl since I hit puberty. Sure, I like them. They smell nice, and they occupy a good deal of my waking thoughts, but sex always gets in the way. It’s just a fact of nature. Men and women aren’t meant to be friends.

  “I don’t think I can do that,” she says.

  “Good. Me neither.”

  A ghost of a smile bows her lips. “Then why did you suggest it?”

  Several options scroll through my brain. I could lie, tell her some sweet bullshit. Or I can be honest. I lift my palms toward the ceiling. “I have no idea, but it sounded like the right thing.”

  “Is that the kind of guy you are? Do you just say things because it’s what people want to hear?” Her lowered brows indicate displeasure. She turns and strides away.

  Great, now she’s pissed. No matter what I do, I can’t win with this girl. The heels of her boots hit the hardwood steps and echo through the empty house. I race after her and catch up at the back door. When I place a hand on her shoulder, she groans. “No. I’m not that kind of guy. I’m the guy who says what he thinks, no matter the consequences, because life is too short for bullshit.” My mouth has gotten me into trouble more than once, but only because I refuse to alter my opinions to placate someone else. “You want the truth?”

  “Always.”

  “I’m attracted to you. All I can think about is having you underneath me, fucking you in every room of this dusty mausoleum, on the floor, in your bed, on the kitchen table.” The color of her cheeks brightens. “The chemistry between us is off the charts.”

  “I know,” she says. Two words turn my world upside down. The tip of her tongue slides over her lower lip. “But there’s really no point, is there? I mean, in another few weeks, we’ll go our separate ways and probably never see each other again.”

  “That’s one way to look at it.” I nod, grateful she gets it. “And who needs to deal with hurt feelings and ruined expectations?”

  “I know, right?” An unexpected grin illuminates her face. She’s unbelievably beautiful when she smiles, in a way that twists my guts.

  I shove my hands into my pockets. “If I was a dick to you before, it’s only because I didn’t know how to deal with this—with us.”

  When she doesn’t answer, I’m a thousand shades of confused. I have no idea how to read this girl. Her hand returns to the door handle. She opens the door, pausing at the threshold. “I’m going to see my horse. You can come along if you want.”

  11

  Vanessa

  Today

  Two days pass without a word from Cam. I throw all my efforts into a plan for revitalizing Seaforth Media and soothing Cam’s anger. Time has given me a new perspective. It’s silly to hold onto something that happened so long ago. We’re both different people now. When Tristan calls for an appointment, my hopes climb. I’m confident we can work out an agreement.

  On the third day, Tristan enters my office, briefcase in hand, a broad smile across his face. He still has the same rusty hair and ruddy complexion, but his eyes are softer, his body harder. Seeing him reminds me of lazy summers at the farm, of who I used to be.

  “It’s good to see you again, Tristan.” We shake hands. His large hand envelopes my smaller one. I offer him a seat across from my desk. “I was surprised to hear from you. What brings you here?”

  “I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. We didn’t really get a chance to talk the other day.”

  “No. The meeting with Cam was unfortunate.” My hopes drop the tiniest bit. He’s here on a social call and not business. The setback isn’t going to get me down. Maxwell always said some of his most important deals were brokered on the golf course.

  “Priceless, more like. I rarely see him speechless, but he still can’t talk about it.” Tristan smiles, his eyes twinkling. “It really made my day.”

  “He’s still pissed?” A tiny crack spreads through my confidence. I fiddle with a pen to keep my hands from shaking.

  “I’ll say. I don’t know what you said to him, but he’s been an ass ever since.” He leans back in his chair and rests an ankle on his knee. “But enough about Cam. How’ve you been? I mean, really? Laurel Falls is a long way from Paris. How does your husband feel about you being so far away?”

  The mention of Giles should hurt, but it doesn’t. Our marriage ended long before we separated. “Ex-husband. We’re divorced.”

  Tristan lifts his left hand, showing the tan line of a wedding band around his ring finger. “Me too. And Trish is on her third marriage.”

  I nearly spit out my coffee. “Wow. No way. Three husbands?”

  “Yeah. She finally gave up on Cam. Mom and Dad are fit to be tied.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Takes the heat off me, if you know what I mean.” We both laugh. I relax into my chair until he draws the briefcase onto his lap and extracts a folder.

  “So, this isn’t a social call after all?” My defenses heighten. The muscles in my neck tense.

  “No, not this time.” His smile thins. “Cam would like to make you an offer for your half of the partnership.”

  The pen slides out of my hand. “He wants to buy me out?”

  “Yes. I think you’ll find his offer very generous.” He slides a large envelope across the desk. “The details are inside. Take a look at it and get back to me. It’s only good for twenty-four hours.”

  Elena buzzes through the intercom. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but your conference call is holding on line four.”

  “I’m going to be a minute.” My head can’t wrap around the bomb Tristan just dropped. I expected Cam to be angry, to throw a few roadblocks in my path, but I never believed he would stab me in the back like this. “And what if I don’t agree?”

  “Then he’s prepared to pull out completely.”

  The bottom of my stomach drops. I’m speeding down the hill of a rollercoaster with no brakes and no end in sight. “He can’t do that.”

  “He can, and he will.” Tristan gives me a rueful smile. “Cam has enough money and power to do whatever he wants, Vanessa.” The shock must be evident on my face, because he lets out a long sigh. “I hope this won’t interfere with our friendship. It really is a pleasure to see you.”

  “No, of course
not.” I rally my composure long enough to respond. Meanwhile, my brain races through the implications of the envelope on my desk. Cam knows how badly I need Seaforth Media to remain stable. If word gets out that he’s anything less than confident in my abilities, my run as CEO will be over before it starts.

  “Maybe I could take you to dinner some time?” Tristan is still talking, but I could care less about what he’s saying. I just want him out of my office so I can have a few minutes to think.

  “Maybe.”

  His gaze slides to the photograph by the door. Damn. I meant to move it somewhere else, away from prying eyes. The furrow in his brow sends a flurry of anxiety into my gut. “These are your kids?”

  “Yes. Lisle and Gaston.” I try to wedge myself between him and the wall. “Why don’t you give me a call in a few days?”

  “How old are they?” He presses his lips together. The gears of his brain are grinding at an alarming rate. My palms begin to sweat.

  “Um, eleven and six.” I slide into business mode, giving him a pleasant smile and offer my hand. “I hate to rush you out, but I need to take this call.”

  “Right. Sure.” His voice is soft, contemplative.

  “Thank you for coming today. I’ll look over Cam’s proposal and get back with you.” I close the door behind him and breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Over the years, no one has ever had the balls to question Gaston’s parentage, at least not to my face. Giles is fair, brown-haired, and an inch shorter than me. Gaston is tall for his age, dark-haired, and golden-skinned. I take the picture from its hook and stash it in my desk drawer. Someday, I’ll tell Gaston the truth, but not now—not yet.

  12

  Cam