by Vivian Wood
Mr. Liu picked up the trays and carefully replaced them. Then he disappeared with the necklace and the credit card. When he reappeared, he had the card, the receipt, and the wrapped necklace in a box.
Smith signed the receipt, thanked the jeweler, and let himself back out on the Tokyo street. As he walked back to the hotel, the concept of marriage was on his mind again.
It was a nice fantasy, he’d admit. Him down on one knee, her crying and trying to find words… He didn’t really want to be married, but if he had to be, he thought he would want someone like her. Someone with whom he shared great chemistry, a lot of passion, and…
Well, he could be honest with her. He didn’t let his guard down with just anyone, but around her he found his walls falling down.
Those were the prerequisites, right?
As he let himself into their room, a smile played across his lips. The next time he gave her jewelry, it would be something to talk about.
He headed into the bedroom. She was still in bed, although she stirred when he approached the bed. The thin white sheet covering her form wasn’t enough to keep him from looking her up and down. He was already growing hard, and she hadn’t even done anything yet.
She looked at him and smiled sleepily. His heart gave a squeeze in his chest.
“Mmm, I was wondering where you’d gone,” she said.
“Just around the corner,” he said, sitting down on the bed next to her.
“Yeah?” she said, eyeing him.
“Yes,” he said. “And I got you something while I was out.”
“Really?” she said, curious. She sat up, the sheet slipping dangerously low.
He handed her the box. She arched a brow, then opened it. Cameron gasped when she saw the necklace.
“Smith!” she said, smacking him on the arm. “What the fuck?”
He laughed at her vulgarity. It was charming, in a sense.
“Do you hate it?”
She looked up at him, her eyes welling up. “No. God, no. Thank you, Smith.”
“Can I put it on you, then?”
She seemed to be genuinely trying not to cry. “Y-yes…”
He lifted the necklace from the box, and then undid the clasp. She bit her lip and turned in the bed, giving him access to her nape. He put the necklace on her, and she turned to show him the results.
The pendant nestled just above her breasts, looking breathtaking. Smith thought that companies paid models hundreds of thousands of dollars to look just as Cameron did in that moment, bare but for the necklace and the sheet.
And the look in her eyes… no one had ever looked at him like that.
He leaned in and kissed her, soft but intense. Her mouth was hot and sweet, like honeyed fire. The next words slipped from his lips before he even knew what he was saying.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, then looked surprised.
She laughed at his expression. “Are you sure?”
He kissed her again, then nodded. “Yes. Definitely.”
She grinned.
“Well in that case, yes. I will.”
A knock sounded on the living room door. He gave her a quick kiss, then jumped.
“I ordered breakfast from room service,” he said. “How about you get dressed, and I’ll get things set up in the other room?”
“Alright,” she sighed. “I don’t know what time it is, but after breakfast, we probably have to head to the airport.”
He winked at her, staying for an extra second to look at her as she got up, shedding the sheet. She flushed, but just moved to start to dress.
The knock came again, more insistent.
“Alright, alright,” he called to the front door.
He carefully closed the bedroom door, then went to let the room service cart in. He tipped the server, then moved the whole cart to the small dining room table.
He looked down at the silver-lidded dishes. He opened the first dish, Pan Con Tomato y Huevos, with a smile. Thick slices of toast with tomato jam and poached eggs made for an interesting take on the Spanish breakfast.
It reminded him of his mother. More specifically, it reminded him of breakfasting on the Spanish coast, with his mother across the table from him. He thought that the memory must be one of his very first ones, because he only remembered the food and his mother smiling at him.
He uncovered the other dishes, which turned out to be eggs Benedict and a vegetarian omelette. Not as interesting, but he’d had limited choices in a Japanese hotel. He put two empty plates and two rolls of silverware where they were going to sit.
When she came out of the bedroom, he noticed that she was dressed very sharply, in a frothy cream-colored top and dark gray trousers.
“You look fit,” he said as she came to glance over the feast he’d laid out before them both.
“Thanks,” she said, blushing. “What is that?”
She pointed to the Pan Con Tomato y Huevos.
“It’s toast with tomato jam and eggs,” he said, pulling her chair out for her. “It’s a traditional Spanish breakfast.”
“Ah,” she said, taking her seat and helping herself to some of the vegetarian omelette.
“Try some,” he said, offering her the Pan Con Tomato y Huevos. “I bet it’s good.”
She took a piece of toast and one of the poached eggs. She broke the egg over the toast, then took a bite. “Mmmmm.”
“Good?”
“Delicious,” she said. “I get it, Spain.”
He smiled and took some for himself, copying her actions. He took a bite and moaned, the acidity of tomatoes balancing perfectly with creaminess of the egg and the crunch of the toast.
“I’ve had this one other time,” he said between bites. “On vacation in Spain with my mother.”
She stopped the forkful of omelette that was headed to her mouth.
“Oh?” was all she said, but she looked curious.
“Mhm,” he said, attacking the eggs Benedict.
“What was your mother like?” she asked, taking a small bite of the omelette.
He thought about that, chewing.
“She was… complicated,” he said. “When she was happy, she was the brightest light in the universe. Well, to me anyway. But when she was sad…”
He trailed off. She frowned.
“What?” she asked.
“I don’t know. She had black moods. And sometimes she couldn’t get out of bed for weeks on end.” He shrugged. “Like I said, complicated. I never knew what mood she would be in when I got up.”
“It sounds like…” she started, then bit her lip. “It sounds like a lot for you to handle as a kid.”
Smith took a deep breath. “Her depression was something she could never overcome. So I only knew her when I was young.”
“I’m so, so sorry,” she said, reaching over and squeezing his hand.
“It was a long time ago,” he said.
“Still.”
She picked up her fork again, but merely pushed the last bits of her omelette around. He realized he had lost his appetite, too. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and tossed it onto his plate.
“We should get a move on if we’re going to make it to the airport on time,” he said, rising.
“I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“It’s not… it’s nothing you did. Let’s just go, okay?”
She hesitated, then nodded. They both took a few minutes to gather their things. Their bags were already packed, and they left them in the room for the bellhops to bring down.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they got ready to go. He didn’t mean to take out his baggage on her. The subject of his mother’s suicide would always be a sensitive one, but he’d brought it up.
As they rode down the elevator in silence, Smith reached out and snagged Cameron’s waist. He pulled her close, hugging her and placing a kiss on her head.
She didn’t say anything, but she favored him with a smile that let him know things were okay between them. They
slid into the limousine that waited for them downstairs, Smith slipping an arm around Cameron’s waist.
She pulled out her cell phone and called ahead to make sure all the details were perfect for their flight.
“Mmmhmm,” she said thoughtfully. “Make sure that there is plenty of water. And he likes a bourbon during takeoff…”
He watched her distractedly as she negotiated. He thought of Charles’ statement, that if he had realized that he would still be alive and kicking at ninety-six, he would have proposed.
Smith’s lips twitched as she got off the phone.
“They’re afraid of me,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“As anyone in their right mind would be,” he assured her.
She gave him a satisfied smile, then snuggled into his chest. He couldn’t help but smell her hair, that spicy-sweet combination that was uniquely hers.
“I am glad that I have you,” he said. “I’m glad that you exist, because without you I’d be alone.”
She looked at him, a tiny frown puckering her brow.
“You would not,” she said firmly. “You’d just be with someone less awesome than me.”
She smiled at the last remark. He leaned down and kissed her lips. She could think what she wanted. At least he’d told her how he felt. Well, maybe not exactly, but it was as close as he was going to get today.
They pulled up onto the tarmac, and he regretfully let her go. As he slid out of the car, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.
Lindsay Wu.
He silenced the phone. Whatever the investigator had discovered could wait. He had a flight to take halfway around the world before he was ready to re-enter the stream of real life.
“Smith!” Cameron said, walking toward the stairs that led up to the plane.
“Alright, alright,” he said. “”I’m coming.”
Shaking his head, he headed to catch the plane home.
25
The second that Cameron got off the plane from Tokyo and bid Smith goodnight, she got a call from Erika. She made a face at her cell phone, but answered as she slid into her Uber.
“This had better be good,” Cam said, trying to sound as imperious as Smith did when he answered calls. “I’m coming off a thirteen-hour flight.”
“You need to come in,” Erika said, her voice flat and monotone. “We’re here in the main conference room at The Daily News.”
“What, now?”
“Yes, now!” Erika snapped. “This is your last chance to see your name anywhere near the byline of this story.”
Cam bit her lip. She’d known this moment was coming. Hell, she’d wanted it for longer than she could’ve imagined. Only now that she was close enough to taste it, there was Smith to worry about.
Smith, and the fact she was fairly certain she was in love with him…
“Are you listening to me?” Erika growled, breaking Cam from her thoughts.
“Yes, yes,” Cam said, feeling a little breathless.
“How soon can you be here?”
“Um… I’m probably about ten minutes away.”
“Good. We’ll be waiting.”
Erika hung up, giving Cameron no choice but to tell the driver they were changing their destination. As the car turned toward the office and took her toward her fate, she sat in the back seat, staring out the windows.
She tried to breathe, but the in and out of air from her lungs did little to calm her fears. As she pulled up outside the newspaper's building, she briefly considered running. What would be the harm?
Except then Erika would tell Smith that Cam was a backstabbing bitch, and he’d dump her anyway. She felt a swell of emotions beginning to rise, and she shoved them back down. She still had to force herself to get out of the car, though.
She strode into the building, careful to act as though she had more confidence than she did. She left her luggage with the coat check, fairly certain that the meeting wouldn’t take long.
She tossed her long red hair when she got off the elevator, suddenly glad for her stockings and heels. They made her feel powerful.
She blew past the secretary at the reception desk, heading straight for the room where the board liked to meet. The walls in the newsroom were glass, so she spotted the editorial board before they saw her.
They were a bunch of aging men, their suits wrinkled and their heads balding. She counted six of them, plus Erika standing in her purple yoga pants and yellow stretchy top.
Erika saw Cam just before Cam opened the door. Her mentor’s face colored. Cam entered the room, ready to do battle.
“I’m here,” Cam announced, dropping her purse on the table. “Fresh off a flight from Japan. So let’s talk.”
She looked at the editors. They all stared back, running the emotional gamut from bored to annoyed. Several of them looked familiar to Cam, but she didn’t know their names off the top of her head.
“Cameron,” Erika said, coming around the table. “Take a seat.”
“I’ll stand, thanks,” Cam said, crossing her arms.
“Right,” Erika said. She looked to the board for help. “Umm. Do any of you want to take this one?”
“I will,” said a man in a tweed sport coat. “Cameron, you’ve been working undercover for us at Calloway Corp for almost two months. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Cam answered.
Another editor broke in, this one in a dark sweater. He seemed more friendly.
“We can’t continue to support you unless you agree to sit down with a reporter,” he said. “Erika has come clean with us about you working for Calloway, which… well. It wouldn’t be our choice. Having a reporter work undercover at the company is risky, to say the least.”
“So? What would you have me do?” Cam said, canting her head.
“Quit your job at Calloway,” the man said. “Come back to work. Talk to a reporter. Prepare yourself for a lot of questions from the government and other press outlets.”
“I have the whole experience documented. I wrote down everything, kept track of it as it was happening. I expect to be named in the byline,” Cam said.
The editors looked at each other nervously. Erika cut in.
“We can talk about that once you’ve returned.”
“No,” Cam said firmly. “I want what you promised me, in the beginning. And I want a promotion, to reporter.”
Erika’s jaw tensed. “Is that right?”
“Yeah. You want my material? You want to use my reports to sell papers? You get a reporter in the bargain. If not, just say so, because I can walk right out of here,” Cam shot back.
Erika looked at the editors. The nicer of the two men spoke up.
“Alright,” he said, sighing. “We’ll take you on as a reporter. But you have to turn over all your evidence right now.”
“Everything is stored in the cloud,” she said. She thought of Smith, and how pissed he was going to be when she told him of her deceit. “I can send it over as soon as I have time. I’ll just need twenty-four hours to tie up some loose ends.”
Erika’s brows arched. “Oh, is that all? You demand all this, then you say you need twenty-four hours?”
“Yes,” Cam said, her tone no-nonsense.
“We’ll send you a job contract,” interrupted the editor in the tweed coat. “Just send us the files as soon as you have the contract.”
“Fine,” Cam said. “I’ll be back here soon enough.”
She grabbed her purse and stalked out of the newsroom. She stopped and got her luggage from the coat check, then headed out into the street. Without any destination in mind, she walked a few blocks, then stopped and sat down on a bench.
She couldn’t stop thinking of the way Smith’s face would look when she told him the whole scheme. If he felt the way she did, or felt even a quarter of what she felt, he would be absolutely crushed.
She sat ramrod straight and tried to think of a way out of the situation that didn’t involve him ne
ver wanting to see her again. Nothing came to mind, no matter how hard she racked her brain.
Every single scenario she could come up with either had him swearing her off or her dropping out of his life forever. The only thing she could think of would be to let the paper publish her story without her name attached… but that would mean lying to Smith indefinitely.
It wasn’t something that Cameron could see herself doing. Lying to Smith was… it was wrong, if she was honest with herself about it.
She blew out a breath. She had to come clean to Smith. She knew he would be mad, even that he might never speak to her again. But if she thought she was in love with him, she owed him at least that much.
She stood up, unsteady on her feet, and looked around to hail a cab.
It was confession time.
26
Smith sat down at the bar. He ordered a whiskey, pulling his sunglasses off and setting them down on the bar. He was supposed to meet Lindsay Wu in a few minutes for a rundown of what she’d found out.
He drummed his fingertips on the bar while the bartender poured his drink. Lindsay walked in, turning heads as she crossed the bar. Her bright red wrap frock was eye-catchingly fitted on her petite frame. It reminded Smith of one of Cameron’s frocks, and he smiled as he thought of his girlfriend.
Maybe he’d ask her to wear that frock tonight, when they were out for dinner.
“Mr. Calloway,” Lindsay said, inclining her head as she slid onto the stool beside Smith. She laid a file before her on the bar.
“Miss Wu. Would you like a drink?”
Her smile was fleeting. “I would rather just get down to business.”
“Alright,” he said, pushing his glass away. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”
She blew out a breath, then opened the file.
“I took the profiles of the top five people in your company, people who handled the money. That includes you, Mr. Calloway, as you instructed.”
He nodded, having nothing to add. She continued.
“I dug through everyone’s background. When you saw me at your father’s estate, I was still gathering information on members of the board. After that, I used my connections in the world of cybercrimes to… well, for lack of a better term, to hack into the personal computers of those people. What I found was… not just evidence that pointed to one person… it was damning.”
