by Vivian Wood
Smith fished his phone out of his pocket to look at the time. Jake was right, it wasn’t even midnight yet.
But the more he drank, the darker of a mood Smith seemed to find himself in. Drunk or sober, thoughts of Cameron kept pulling him under, as if he were some sort of masochist that enjoyed torturing himself with things he couldn’t have.
And who says you can’t have her? his mind goaded. It’s your own stupid rule. So what if you break it?
Smith pondered the appeal of that possibility for a moment, idly twirling his empty glass on the bar top as mental images of Cameron’s writhing naked body assaulted him.
So what, indeed.
“Hello? Smith?” Jake gave his shoulder a little shake. “Are you even listening to me, man?”
Smith shook his head, clearing his wayward thoughts. Apparently Jake had been talking to him while he’d silently weighed the pros and cons of fucking his assistant.
No matter, it was time he got going anyway.
“Yeah, sure. Listen, mate, I’m gonna go on and head out now,” he said, taking a step back so that Jake’s hand fell from his shoulder. Smith threw down a couple of bills to cover their drinks before turning to leave. “I’ll catch you later.”
Jake rolled his eyes and shook his head in response, but Smith was already halfway to the door by that point.
Smith spilled out of Ninth Circle and onto the street, where other drunken clubgoers loitered, smoking cigarettes or just talking. He got his phone back out, with the intent of calling an Uber driver, before suddenly changing his mind and shoving both hands in the pockets of his jacket as he looked around, thinking.
Cameron’s flat was only three blocks up and a handful of blocks over from here, if Smith recalled the one time he’d been there correctly. He could easily walk there from here...
And do what? Knock on her door in the middle of the night, drunk and off company time? Ask her to explain where, exactly, they stood with each other now?
Or maybe he just needed to know if Cameron thought as much about fucking him again, as he did about her?
Whatever the reason, Smith found himself crossing the street, headed in her direction.
Cameron’s flat was located in... well, Smith wouldn’t call it the city’s underbelly necessarily, but it was right well close to that. He hated to think of her walking around here alone at night. It didn’t seem like the safest place for a woman like Cameron to live.
Any good employer would be concerned about their employee’s safety outside of work, Smith reassured himself, rationalizing his current train of thought. It’s not just because it’s Cameron.
Smith walked for about fifteen minutes, before stumbling across a somewhat familiar stretch of refurbished warehouses. He recognized the one that was Cameron’s loft only three buildings down from him, and felt himself hesitate as he instantly stopped walking.
What the hell am I even doing here? Smith thought, suddenly appalled with himself. I can’t do this. This is completely mental, is what this is.
But still, I’m already here. What’s the harm in just seeing if she’s still awake?
Smith would never know for certain which side of reasoning would have eventually won out.
Because, in that moment, a car pulled up to the curb outside her place and parked…
And then a man got out and walked up to her door.
Smith quickly hid himself in the shadows outside the halo of the nearest streetlight as he watched, his intrigue quickly morphing into bitter rage as Cameron greeted the unknown man at her door by embracing him.
Smith turned away before he was forced to witness any more of their exchange. He started walking in the opposite direction, not knowing where he was going anymore, just knowing he needed to get as far from her as possible.
Smith turned a corner, stopping so that he could lean against the alley wall and regain some sense of composure over himself. The sound of blood rushing in his ears was all he could hear as he closed his eyes, taking a deep calming breath as he resisted the urge to punch the brick wall behind him.
Cameron had a fucking boyfriend, it seemed. And Smith had been a big enough of a git to not realize it until now.
Underneath his anger, Smith was surprised by the sheer amount of jealousy--and what’s more, betrayal--that he felt at her little deception. He’d agonized over the morality and nature of his relationship with Cameron for the past two weeks, only to find out now that she wasn’t even single to begin with.
Even if she’d only hooked up with this guy after he’d first met her at Circle Bar, she’d still flirted with him outside that cafe, still kissed him back when he had kissed her on the bridge.
Hell, she’d been the one to kiss him first when she’d fallen into his lap on the plane ride to Paris.
Smith shook his head roughly, pulling his phone out again so that he could call an Uber home, for real this time.
He was done with whatever game this was that he’d been playing with Cameron over the past couple weeks. So fucking done.
8
Cameron closed the door to the filing cabinet and hustled out of the file room, heading around the corner to her desk. She sat down in her chair, considering what she should do next. She turned her chair toward the floor to ceiling window, looking out at the city.
The sun was just setting. It reminded her of her time in Paris, how twilight was such a magical time there, with the lights just beginning to come on.
She sighed and turned her back on the sight. There was no use thinking about what might have been.
Her phone buzzed on the desk next to her computer. She typed in her passcode and read the new text.
Sources inside Calloway Corp say that any money mismanagement has to come from the top 3 or 4 ppl. Focus on the two Calloways. — E
Cameron frowned. She knew that The Daily News had multiple sources digging into the company, but she had no idea who those sources were. Nor did she have any idea who might be responsible for the missing money.
Could it really be Smith or his father? Smith seemed so financially comfortable. Not to mention the fact that he was generally forthright about his issues.
Spencer Calloway seemed more capable of a guise, yet he had even less reason to do so. If Smith was financially comfortable, Spencer was living the high life.
Cam erased Erika’s message. She wished she had some answers for her boss. She’d been the recipient of Smith’s cold shoulder all week, which meant all her spare time went to looking into the company’s finances.
All of her covert research was made a thousand times easier by the fact that the company was running its own audit. Stacks and stacks of binders were piled in the file room, all containing sensitive financial information.
She’d secretly filched three or four binders at a time, taking them home to study. She had gotten deep enough into the stacks to be reassured that The Daily News was right.
Someone was definitely doing more than mismanaging funds. Someone was outright stealing, but they were clever enough to cover their tracks. It was frustrating for Cam.
She drummed her fingertips on her desk, her thoughts shifting to what she should do next. If she found nothing specific in the next two loads of binders, what would she do then?
She looked up when Smith came out of his office, dressed in a tux for a fundraising event he was going to later. His expression was annoyed, which didn’t bode well for her.
“Where’s the paperwork for the Paris deal?” he asked.
“Um… let me see,” she said, standing so she could flip through a stack of papers on the corner of her desk. “These?”
She handed him a sheaf of papers. He snatched them from her hand and flipped through them.
“Where’s the rest?” he said, looking up. “This is only half of the paperwork.”
“What?” she said, digging through the pile on her desk. “Let me see…”
He thrust the papers at her, disgusted.
“Maybe if you weren’
t so busy with your boyfriend, you’d have the time to actually do your job properly,” he said. “I want those papers on my desk in the morning.”
Her jaw dropped. Boyfriend? What the hell was he talking about?
Smith turned and went back into his office, slamming the door. She was frozen for a moment, confused as to what he was talking about. She shook her head, aghast.
Then she straightened her spine, looking toward his closed office door. She didn’t have to just wonder. He was the one who had dragged her supposed personal details into the conversation. She had the right to ask a few questions, didn’t she?
Cam strode to the door and opened it. He looked up from where he sat at his desk. He wore the same angry expression.
“I’m about to take a phone call,” he said, gesturing to the phone. “Do you mind?”
“Actually…” she said, closing the door behind herself. His brows rose. “I want to know why you’re being so aggressive.”
“I’m not being aggressive.”
“You are! And you’re bringing up things from my personal life — which, by the way, aren’t even true — to make me angry. I don’t even have a boyfriend. So… what’s the deal?”
Smith looked even more angry, but he didn’t answer. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, looking Cam up and down.
“What, you’re just going to sit there? Please don’t tell me that you’re still in a snit about Paris,” she said, her voice rising.
He stood up and came around his desk, his face twisted with rage.
“I’m not mad about Paris, I’m mad because I caught your boyfriend coming over last night. You can see how I’d be mad, since I’d been kissing you not two days before that. Not to mention fucking you senseless a few weeks ago,” he said, stalking toward her.
“I told you I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said, raising her chin and refusing to cower. She did back up, though. Her back hit the wall as he stalked her across the office.
His arms came up to cage her in against the wall. His body almost touched hers, the barest inch separating them.
“Really? Who was the man I saw going into your place last night?” he asked.
“A friend,” she said thinly. “Someone I used to work with.”
“Who was visiting… why? Just because he likes your flat?” His British accent was particularly crisp on the last few words. It made Cameron shiver, despite the fact that he was so close to her that she could feel his body heat. The combination was intoxicating.
“He was checking on me, making sure I’m alive. It’s what nice men do,” she said.
“Is that what you like?” he asked, reaching out to stroke her cheek with the back of his knuckles. His voice was low and rough. “You like nice men?”
Her breath caught in her chest. She looked up at him, her eyes wide.
“N-no,” she said quietly.
“No?” he echoed.
“No,” she said, more firmly.
He moved back a little and looked down at her dress, above the knee and made of maroon lace. She could hear his breathing go harsh, just as hers was.
Smith reached down and grasped her waist, then moved his hand further down to her bare thigh. She gasped as his bare skin made contact with hers, the sound loud in the quiet office.
“Are you single, then?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes, I’m single.”
She swallowed the knot of tension that grew in her throat. He pulled up her dress on one side, admiring her stockings and garters. Both black, to match her black lace panties.
“Fuck, I love these,” he said softly, almost to himself. He pulled up her dress on the other side, clearly aroused. She knew just how he felt; her panties were damp, a little wet spot on the front.
He touched her through her panties, just on the spot that was damp. It wasn’t her clit, but it was close.
She moaned, her knees threatening to buckle.
She reached out to touch him, but he nixed that quickly enough. He pushed her hand away roughly, then shocked her by picking her up and putting her over his shoulder.
She cried out and he carried her across the office toward his desk. Smith slapped her on the ass, hard.
“Don’t,” he warned.
He put her down on the edge of his desk, her skirt hiked up around her hips. He stood over her, tall and menacing.
“I’ve imagined you here,” he ground out, plucking at the front of her panties, “just like this. If you had any idea what I dreamed of doing to you…”
He cupped her through her panties, finding her clit with little effort. She gasped. She could feel his fingers teasing her through her panties, feel her clit aching and her breasts begin to tighten.
She tensed as he pushed her legs further apart and moved between them. His erect cock was tenting his pants now, and he pressed his cock against her inner thigh.
She shivered at the memory of how long and thick and perfect he was. Cam moved her hand to touch his cock through his pants, but he flung her hand away.
“No. I want to taste you,” he said.
The rumble of his voice and the look in his cobalt blue eyes were almost enough to bring her to the edge untouched. He loosened his bow tie, looking for all the world like the world’s deadliest assassin.
He dropped to his knees as his nimble fingers undid her garters. He tugged down her panties and pushed her thighs wide apart. She cried out as he used two fingers to separate her pussy lips, then delivered a long lick right up the middle.
“Fuck!” she groaned.
God, his mouth felt so good, his tongue warm and wet and moving in slow circles around her clit. Her eyes went to the door, but god help her, she didn’t want to stop him.
He wasted no time in working two fingers of his free hand into her dripping wet core, pulling them in a come hither gesture. It touched a place inside Cameron that was so sensitive that she nearly pulled him away.
He sealed his lips over her clit and sucked gently, and she almost came off the desk. Her hands landed in his hair, trying hard not to grip it. He sucked her clit again, and she writhed under his attentions.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she said.
He worked his fingers in and out and lapped at her pussy while she cried out, louder and louder.
“Yes! Yes yes yes—” she chanted.
The orgasm hit her head on, making her squeeze the fingers he had inside her. She felt like she was made of glass, and he had a sledgehammer, making everything come crashing down.
He withdrew and stood between her legs again, kissing her slowly. She could taste herself on his tongue, was ashamed to admit that she thought it was sexy as hell.
Just as Smith leaned in, letting her feel the weight of his cock through his tuxedo pants, the desk phone rang.
They both froze, not knowing what to do. Cam’s heart still beat fast in her chest.
“Shit,” he said, looking at his watch. “That’s Bangkok.”
“I should—” she started, already squirming.
“Just wait a second,” he said, reaching across her to snag the phone. “It won’t take long.”
She bit her lip. How long was not long?
“Hello?” he said. “Yes, this is Smith.”
He picked up the phone’s base and carried it a ways away. She couldn’t just sit here, so exposed. She stoodand pulled her panties up.
Smith turned back, frowning at her. To Bangkok, he said, “Uh huh. Well, the projections are just that. Projections.”
Cameron was having some serious regrets now, especially faced with her job like this. She straightened her spine as much as she could and moved toward the door.
It did not escape her attention that she was leaving just as she’d gone in, straight-backed and confused.
She didn’t look back when she hit the door, just quietly let herself out. She grabbed her purse and phone from her desk and raced to the elevators. Luckily most everyone had gone home for the day, so no one saw her embarrassment.
What the hell had she done? She was supposed to be keeping things between them professional, not letting him go down on her in his office.
She blushed and bit her lip when she had to walk by several people on her way out of the building. Logically, she knew that they couldn’t tell what she’d been doing, but she still hurried past them.
Her phone rang when she made it to the street. Cam was worried that it might be Smith, demanding she should come back, but it was Erika.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Thank god, you finally answered your phone,” Erika said.
“I was…” she started, then stopped. “I was working.”
“I just got back from a meeting of the editorial board. They don’t think you’ve gotten far enough with the assignment.”
Cameron halted in her tracks. “What?”
“The board wants results, Cameron. They need concrete proof, and they need it soon. Otherwise they’re going to pull you from the assignment and work through some of the other sources.”
“They can’t! I’ve not even been in position a month,” she said.
“I know.”
“They can’t pull me off my first real assignment! I won’t get another chance like this.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” she asked, tears forming in her eyes.
“Well, kid, if I were you, I’d be using any kind of pull I had to get some information. Blackmail, sex… anything.”
Cam blew out a breath. “Is that the approach the board wants me to take?”
“They don’t want to know the details, trust me. They just want a great story to take to press. They know they’ll award someone for bringing them Calloway Corp. It’s your job to be that someone.”
She was quiet for a long second.
“Cameron, you can do this,” Erika said. “There’s a reason I championed you, instead of the two female copy editors we have.”
That, and the fact that I happen to be much more conventionally attractive, Cam thought sourly.
“Okay. I got the message,” she said. “Quick and dirty.”
