Desire (Venture Capitalist Book 3)

by Ainsley St Claire

  Spotting the Keurig, I absently pop a random K-cup under the spigot and press the button. The smell draws me in and helps my brain catch up with my mind as the machine produces a full-bodied cup of coffee. Taking my first sip, I murmur, “Ahh, the nectar of the gods.” Today is going to be perfect. I will it so.

  It’s Saturday morning, and it’s quiet. The dew adds another color to the natural greens of the landscape, punctuated by a pair of squirrels playing what seems like a game of tag as they chase each other up and down the trees.

  We purposely didn’t plan much today; it’s a day on our own for pool, spa, and sleep. I have a facial scheduled and a massage this afternoon, a nice but naughty book on my Kindle, and we have dinner plans. More birthday celebrations.

  We agreed to meet at our chalet before going out as a group for dinner. Jennifer found me a beautiful rose-colored dress for tonight, the neck giving me a subtle hint of cleavage below the ruffle as it drapes my shoulder. The length is demure and sits just below my knee with a seductive slit up to my mid-thigh. It’s the perfect mix of conservative and sexy. Underneath I have matching bra and pantie set that, while beautiful, is more about function than sex. Slipping into a sexy strappy gold stiletto sandal, I stand and stare at myself in the mirror.

  Today is the day I’m actually thirty-three years old. The same age my mother was when she was diagnosed with her cancer, and she died twenty-four years ago today. I hear CeCe and the girls in the other room, and it sounds like everyone’s here. I don’t want to wallow in my self-pity, and I don’t want to cry and ruin my makeup, but I always wish my mom was here to hug me and celebrate another milestone. I also miss my dad, who died a few years ago, but we weren’t close after my mom died, so I find that I tend to miss her more.

  Gathering my courage to make it through my evening without my mom or dad, I grab my pearl-adorned clutch and walk into the main room to join my friends. With each step, my head is higher, and my smile becomes my façade.

  “Here she is!” Greer exclaims.

  CeCe pops a bottle of champagne, pours everyone a glass, and hands it to each of us. We all raise our glasses as she begins her toast. “Wishing you a happy, healthy, and incredible year ahead. May all your dreams come true.”

  We clink our glasses together, and everyone shouts, “Here, here.”

  “Are we ready for a fun night?” CeCe asks.

  I nod, and Emerson says, “We were born ready.”

  We make the short walk over to the Meadowood main area, and I expect to get in a car for a drive to whatever restaurant we have reservations for. I’m not paying attention when we’re shown to a private dining room. I’m led in first, and the room is dark. I think for a moment that I’ve gone to the wrong area and I stop short. Suddenly the lights come on, the room stuffed full of my friends, who, in unison, all yell, “Surprise!”

  I think my heart stops. Glancing around the room, there must be over a hundred people here, and hanging from the ceiling is a large banner saying I’m twenty-nine and holding for the fourth year. I’m stunned and speechless.

  I turn to gape at CeCe. Smiling from ear to ear, she mouths to me, “Surprise. I love you.” I want to cry because I’m overwhelmed by her generosity and for being such a great friend, but before I can do that, people are crowding in to hug me and give me personal birthday congratulations.

  Friend after friend asks, “Were you surprised?” To those, I say, “Completely! I had no idea. This is my best birthday ever.”

  For those who share, “I almost slipped and told you when…,” I reply, “This is completely unexpected. Thank you so much for joining me to celebrate.”

  It takes better than an hour before Cameron comes over. He’s so handsome in his khaki pants, a nice pair of light brown suede derby shoes, and a blue and white checked cotton button-down shirt with a white T-shirt underneath. His hair is slicked back, and he looks good enough to eat. Our chemistry is undeniable. He runs his finger up my arms and whispers, “Hey, sweet thing. Happy birthday.”

  His seductive voice makes my stomach flip and my panties wet. “Hey, Cameron. Thanks for coming.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” He grins at me, and I swear he’s like a cat who just caught the canary.

  I lick my lips at the hooded desire in his eyes. “Are you staying here in Napa tonight?”

  He nods. “Yes. I don’t want to drink and drive, so I found a small room not far from here at a bed-and-breakfast. You seemed surprised by the party.”

  “I didn’t expect it at all. CeCe didn’t hint or anything. But I can’t believe so many people are here.” I look around at the crowd in the private dining room. “There are friends from high school, college, medical school, and even my residency.”

  “I talked to a guy named Jim who went through residency with you. He’s quite the fan.”

  I can’t be sure if he’s stating a fact or if he’s jealous. “I wouldn’t have made it through school without him. He was a rock. Did you meet his wife? I’m sure I saw her in this sea of people.”

  “I didn’t meet her, but he mentioned her. I also met your college roommate, Elaine Gray. I didn’t realize you knew her. She’s running for US Senate.”

  “I’m going to vote for her. And not because I’ve held her hair more than once while she threw up in a toilet, but because she would be a great senator.”

  A big smile covers his face, and he’s so handsome that my heart skips a beat. “Actually, I donated to her campaign a few weeks ago. I have to admit, I’m a little star struck by her.”

  His politics match mine, and that only makes me fall harder for him. “That makes sense. She’s remarkable.”

  He leans in and whispers in my ear, “I got you a beautiful LaPerla pantie and corset set. I’d understand if you wouldn’t want to show me how well it fits since I was such a jerk, but the invitation is open.”

  Nice of him to admit that now. I’m mad at him, but I can’t stay that way, not with those beautiful brown eyes staring back at me. I’ve fallen so hard for him, and I’m sure we would both agree that the sex is fucking incredible, but I’m thirty-three now and need to consider that if I want a family, good sex just isn’t enough.

  Cameron has hinted that there may not be a family in his future, though I’m not sure if it’s by choice or by circumstance. However, it’s hard to say no to the idea of a naughty birthday night.

  “I might like that, but I wonder if we need to have that conversation you’ve been hinting at first. Without a doubt, we do the horizontal mamba well together, but there’s something you’ve been suggesting you want to discuss, and I may want something that I’m not sure you want. We probably need to figure that out together first.”

  He pauses, and his eyes flicker when he registers what I’m saying. “I see.”

  Before he can continue, Dillon walks up with Emerson. “Birthday girl!”

  “I have the shock on your face on video. You were completely surprised,” Emerson says.

  “I had no clue what you guys were planning. This came out of left field for sure.”

  Apparently, with the RSVP card, each person specified a meal choice, so we’re soon ushered to our sit-down dinner. I wander from table to table, enjoying being the center of all this attention. Better than half of the guests have found rooms here in Napa, and the other half will head home.

  I’m thrilled when I spot Andy and realize he supplied the wine. “Andy! What a wonderful surprise.”

  “I’m honored to be invited.”

  “I’m hoping CeCe gave you more than twenty-four hours’ notice.”

  “She did. She ordered the wine from me quite some time ago and encouraged me to join you.”

  “What a treat for everyone. Have you seen Greer?”

  “Oh yes. We had a wonderful chat about wine.” Changing subjects, he asks, “Do you really know all these people?”

  I gaze around the room as I take a seat in the empty chair next to him. “There are so many of my friends
from so many parts of my life.” Pointing across the room, I ask, “Do you see that woman in the bright pink dress?”

  “Of course.”

  “Her name’s Michele. She went to elementary school with CeCe and me. Her father was president of some bank, and they moved to New York City when we were maybe ten years old. We’ve always kept in touch, and she’s now married and living in Minneapolis with an executive from a big box store.” Looking around, I spot another friend. “See the gentleman over there? That’s Michael, my date to prom my junior year. When we were in school, he was a football player with dark curly locks of hair. Now look at him.”

  “Ah, the bald man with a potbelly. I met him earlier. He’s funny and has a cute wife, and together they have five kids. He wants to sell me some life insurance later.”

  “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’ll manage. Who’s the man Greer is talking to?”

  “That’s Sebastian. We went to medical school together. I believe he’s a thoracic surgeon in Palo Alto.”

  “Doctor, huh?”

  “And his husband is over at the bar picking up drinks for the three of them.”

  Andy appears relieved. “You have many friends, but you don’t have a boyfriend, right?”

  “I’ve always felt very lucky with so many friends, but no, I currently don’t have a boyfriend.” I launch into the story of my house burning down and living in a friend’s downstairs apartment.

  Andy shares stories of his friends and growing up in Argentina and Italy. The DJ interrupts him when he starts calling for me. “Where’s our birthday girl, Hadlee?”

  I politely excuse myself as CeCe takes the mike and asks everyone to lift their glass in a toast. “To my oldest, dearest, and my sister by choice. You deserve only the best. May this new year make your every dream come true. Happy birthday, Hadlee.”

  “Happy birthday” is repeated by most in the room, and we’re all stunned as the staff rolls out a glorious cake with fresh white rose decorations and a pale yellow frosting. The cake is adorned with a sparkler which burns out as everyone sings the birthday song.

  CeCe hands me the microphone, and a voice that I believe is Dillon calls out, “What did you wish?”

  I gaze across the room at Cameron. Our eyes lock, and I smile. He beams at me, and I say, “I’ll never tell. It may not come true.”

  I turn to CeCe and grab her hand. “Thank you to CeCe, Emerson, and Greer for planning such a wonderful surprise. I really had no idea. I love you guys.” The room applauds the girls, and I wait for the ovation to stop. “It’s so wonderful to see all of you from so many parts of my life. You all have made such wonderful impacts on me, making me who I am today, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for showing me how lucky I am. Many of you know that twenty-four years ago today, my mother died of breast cancer, which often makes my birthday difficult to celebrate. Thank you all for helping me today. I love you all.”

  The room stands and applauds, which only makes me tear up as CeCe, Emerson, and Greer all stand to hug me.

  CeCe announces, “Because of all of you tonight, we’ll donate over $100,000 to women’s breast cancer research. Thank you for your generosity. Make sure to try the cake. I promise it’s amazing.”

  I’m stunned and moved all at the same time. I can’t stop the tears from falling down my face. They’re not only tears of sadness for the loss of my mother, or joy because so many people seem to care about me, but also because I’m so moved by everyone’s kindness on a topic so important to me.

  The staff has been busy passing pieces of raspberry filling between the delicate layers of lemon cake. Even the crazy rainbow mosaic of flakes sprinkled across the top add to the celebration. I take a bite and it practically melts in my mouth; the light perfection of the cake itself and the richness of the cream cheese frosting has the calling card of elegance.

  As the evening winds to a close, cake crumbs and smears of frosting are all that remain of the once triple layered cake. With the dessert finished, the chatter in the room rises and falls, and wineglasses are filled and emptied until all too soon, it’s time for the guests to make their way home or to their hotels.

  CeCe has made arrangements for the gifts to be moved to our chalet. The money collected for breast cancer research means so much to me. It warms my heart that my friends are so generous. I know just the agency to donate this to under my mom’s name.

  I search for Cameron, but I don’t find him. I was hoping to finish our conversation and maybe enjoy some time together, though he probably thinks I’m a psycho after our conversation got interrupted. He makes my heart beat faster, my stomach turn, and my knees weak while at the same time. He’s smart, funny, and if I'm honest, he’s incredible in bed.

  I want more than sex with him, and while he may feel that he isn’t capable of more, but I know he is.

  Cameron

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  It’s only Monday afternoon, but it feels like a Thursday. I have too many things going on. I feel like the old circus act where the performer spins multiple plates on a stick, and he keeps adding more as the rotation of the others continues. I feel like all the plates I’m spinning are about to fall.

  My phone buzzes. “Yes?”

  “Cameron, there’s a doctor on the phone for you. He says it’s an emergency.”

  When I pick up the phone, it’s my father’s doctor, who’s called to tell me that my dad collapsed in his exam room and they’re admitting him to University Hospital. I ask a few clarifying questions, but because of certain rules he doesn’t tell me much, so I’m left to determine if I really need to go to the hospital. After thinking about it a few moments, I realize I'm foolish to debate this. I need to be with my father.

  Calling a Lyft, I tell my admin, “Jeannine, my dad’s been admitted to University Hospital. I need to go. I have my computer and my cell phone if anyone needs me.”

  “Of course. Is there anything I can do?”

  “If you could let Mason and Dillon know, but I don’t know anything else right now. I’ll keep you posted if I need anything,” I say over my shoulder as I walk toward the elevators.

  When I arrive, the information desk directs me to his fourth-floor room. My father’s dressed in a hospital gown, a look of shock on his pale face. “Cameron? What are you doing here?”

  “Your doctor called and said you collapsed in his office. You didn’t tell me you were here seeing a doctor. What happened?”

  “It’s nothing really.”

  “Dad, people don’t drive three hours to see a doctor in San Francisco even if they have a son in the city. And they don’t collapse unless there’s a problem.”

  He gets angry with me and stubbornly says, “It ain’t nothin’.”

  His hands are frail and shaking slightly as he reaches for the water cup on the table over his bed. His movements are so much of the man he was and still is. They’re ashen where the sunlight catches them, though not ghostly, just subdued and a yellow-gray. I think this is the first time I realize how vulnerable he is and how much of a toll the sickness is taking. A sickness I was too self-absorbed to notice.

  He dozes during some replay of an eighties football game on the small television in his room. I take a seat next to him and open my computer. He doesn’t want to talk or tell me what’s going on, so I’ll stay with him and work. I slog my way through several hundred lines of code, hoping to find the mistake and figure out if I can fix it, but I’ve only managed to read the same line at least a dozen times. I’m not concentrating, and nothing about it sticks in my memory.

  The doctor comes in. “Mr. Newhouse?”

  I stand and extend my hand. “Hello, Doctor. How’s my dad doing?”

  “What do you know about his condition?”

  My dad’s now fully awake and pretending to be engrossed in the football game. “Not very much, I’m afraid. He’s been rather protective of what’s going on with his health.”

  “I see.” Turning to my dad, t
he doctor asks, “Michael, how are you feeling?”

  He stares at me nervously, and his hands are shaking from what I assume is the DTs. “Not too good, Doc.”

  “Okay, I’ll have the nurse give you another dose of benzodiazepine. Excuse me. I’ll return in a minute.”

  I watch my dad. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I should know?”

  The doctor returns with a nurse on his heels before he can answer, injecting a large syringe into his IV. My dad quickly and visibly relaxes, and the tremors almost stop.

  I glance at the doctor. “He won’t tell me what’s going on.”

  He stares at his charts and says, “Are you aware that he’s given you his medical power of attorney?”

  I sigh. “No.”

  “Let’s step outside.” He points to the door, and I follow him out. “Mr. Newhouse, your dad’s quite ill. His cirrhosis is at an advanced stage, and while his liver is beginning to shut down, he seems to have also developed a few cancerous tumors in his lungs.”

  I’m surprised and not sure what to say. Cirrhosis and cancer? Does this mean he’s going to die? Wait! I blink and stare at the doctor in horror. My hands tremble as I try to understand exactly what he’s telling me. My heart races wildly, and I’m breathless. I do not understand a word of the doctor’s careful explanation of my dad's condition. "How can that be possible?" The question screams on repeat in my head. A thousand questions for my dad run through my mind, but all I can think to ask the doctor is “Can we do radiation and chemotherapy?”

  “We’re starting a new round tomorrow. He needs to finish the withdrawals from some of the medication he’s been on. We’re trying to be aware of his sobriety.”

  My legs are weak, and I need to sit down. Finding a chair, I sink into it. Running through my mind are all the terrible things I’ve done and said to my dad. I put my face in my hands, trying to hold off on the tears as I whisper, “I see. Is it terminal?”

  “He has a lot going on. The cirrhosis is in an advanced stage, and a replacement is difficult. He’s been sober for several years, which allows him to be on the list, but there are many other factors involved, most of which come from availability.”