Claimed By Him: (Contemporary Romance Box Set)

by Alexis Winter

  “So legs, no Brazilian.”

  “Legs and bikini,” I state.

  She gives me a sickly-sweet smile that’s dripping with sarcasm. “How about you leave it to me and it’s none of your business what I choose? Now, do we need to come up with some cute story about how we met or how you proposed?”

  I take a bite of my salad and shrug. “Guess it wouldn’t hurt. What you got?”

  “Hmm, let me think,” she says, placing her finger on her chin for dramatic effect. “Oh, I know! We met at the Joker Club. I was waitressing there while I put myself through school to become a nurse. You saw me from across the crowded bar, and you just knew you had to have me. Then you approached me, and I blew you off because I thought you were just another guy looking to get laid. But that didn’t stop you. You came back night after night and wouldn’t stop asking until I agreed to a date. I finally gave in, and the rest is history.”

  I laugh. “No way! That makes me seem desperate.”

  Her nose wrinkles. “No, it doesn’t. God, no wonder you’re single. It communicates that once you see something you want, you won’t stop until you get it. And since you’re wanting a job from this man, I think it sends a good message.”

  I move my head from side to side, thinking it over. “I guess you have a point. All right, whatever. Now, on to the proposal.”

  “Oh, you proposed to me exactly one year from our first date. You took me to a fancy dinner where you bought out the whole restaurant so we’d be alone.”

  “And I put the ring in your champagne,” I add on.

  “Eww, no way. I hate when people do cutesy stuff like that. And just an FYI, don’t ever mess with my food or drink.”

  I laugh. “Fine. Then how’d I do it?”

  Her eyes roll upward, like she’s watching it play out before her. “All night I knew something was different, but I didn’t know what. I kept asking, but of course, you wouldn’t tell me. We had our dinner, wine, and dessert, and then we stood to leave. Just when I thought nothing was going to happen, you dropped down on one knee and proposed, right there in the middle of the dark, empty restaurant. I was breathless and scared, but excited. The look in your eyes held so much more than I could understand. I couldn’t say no.”

  “You sound like you’ve thought about this for a while.” I pick up my glass of wine and take a sip.

  She laughs. “No, I’ve just read a lot of romance novels.”

  I chuckle and shake my head. “You’re the weirdest woman I’ve ever met.”

  Her jaw drops. “How? You’ve met El, haven’t you?”

  “You talk to your cat like it’s a person, you throw things when you get woken up, you put away more food than any man I’ve ever met, you don’t seem to give a damn about what people think of you, and I bet you have your dream wedding all planned out thanks to those romance novels.” I list off the things.

  “No way. I’m never getting married.” Her face is serious as she look at me, lifting her fork to her mouth.

  “Really? Children?”

  She snorts. “Fuck no. I’m enough of a mess on my own. If you think I could take care of a child, you’re seriously overestimating me.”

  “Seems like we have a lot in common.” I pick up my glass and raise it in the air. “To us, the only two people in the world who are happier being alone.”

  She raises her glass. “Here, here.”

  We both tilt our glasses to our lips.

  Chapter 7

  Samantha

  After lunch, I excuse myself to go put my things away. I walk back into my room and fall onto the bed in a fit of giggles. I know most girls would be trying to think of a way to make this a little more permanent, but I’m just happy to be out of my tiny apartment that doesn’t have power. As much as Cameron is a known man-whore, he does have his redeeming qualities, and to be honest, I half-expected him to try to get in my pants already.

  This place, Cam’s house, is like a five-star hotel. It has everything I could ever need, along with a full household staff. I’ll never have to do laundry again. I don’t even have to pick up after myself if I don’t want to. And by never, I mean a few weeks. Tops.

  Cocoa jumps up on the bed and meows. I roll over and pull her to my chest, petting her thick black fur. “What do you think of our temporary home, Cocoa?”

  She purrs as she curls herself into a ball against me.

  “I like it too,” I agree.

  Someone knocks on the door and I sit up. “Come in!” I call out.

  Cameron opens the door and steps inside. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m bringing in your new things to put away.” He motions toward the room and three men carry in all the bags, setting them on the floor at the foot of the bed.

  “Thank you,” I tell them with a smile before looking back at Cameron, who’s still standing by the door.

  “I’ll leave you to your things,” he says, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

  When I’m alone, I stand and start pulling everything out of the bags and putting each item in its rightful place. Cam—well, actually, I’m sure it was his assistant—bought me tons and tons of makeup and skincare products. I take three bags to the bathroom and assemble my new skincare and makeup regimen before hanging up the rest of the clothes.

  After three hours of putting things away, I step into the bathroom to shower. I want to look pretty for him tonight, and show him that I can clean up and look like one of the women he usually entertains. I take a long, hot bubble bath, using my new luxury shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. When I get out, I sit at the vanity and apply my new makeup and style my hair. My skin feels like butter thanks to all the new products. I flip over a bottle of skin primer and see a hundred-dollar price tag. My mouth drops open. Who in their right mind would pay a hundred dollars for a bottle of facial spray? I could eat off that for a month!

  After my makeup is applied beautifully and my hair is ironed smooth, I step back into my room to find something nice to wear to dinner. I don’t want to look too fancy, like I’m trying to impress him, but I want him to see that I’m putting some effort into this agreement and that I’m not here to half-ass it and just get the money. I pull on a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans and a blush pink sweater that’s so soft, it feels like pajamas. I slip on a pair of designer flats that are new to my wardrobe, and head down the stairs.

  “You look nice,” he says when he steps out of the living room and into the foyer where I am, still wearing his suit from earlier.

  “Thank you. I wanted to show you that I can clean up when needed.” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. I don’t know why I felt the need to say that out loud.

  He seems to be fighting off a small smile. “That you can.” He holds out his elbow. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

  I slide my arm through his. “I’d love to.”

  He leads me into the dining room and even pulls out my chair for me. When he sits across from me, I say, “Tell me about your past, Cameron.”

  “Excuse me?” he asks, picking up his glass of wine and taking a sip.

  “Well, real couples know things about each other. I don’t know much of anything other than the fact that you’re a lawyer. Where’d you grow up? What are your parents like? What’d they do? Where’d you go to school?”

  It looks like he chokes down his wine. “Well, I grew up here in Chicago. My mother was a homemaker and my father was a lawyer, which is how I got started. It was mandatory for me to go to law school, and when I graduated, I was hired on at my dad’s firm. I left it when I was twenty-two, when I went into business with the two partners I have now.”

  “Wow, so you took the job your dad gave you, then left to open your own law office?”

  He nods. “Yep, he wasn’t too happy about that. He wanted me to carry on his legacy and run the firm he opened.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I ask, taking a sip.

  He shrugs. “I knew I couldn’t start from scratch if I stayed. I mean, everyone in
Chicago knows my name. They automatically link it to my father, and I wanted to start something for myself. I didn’t want anyone to say, ‘He’s only here because of who his father is.’ So I left and started over, all the way at the bottom.”

  “Did he eventually get over it?” I ask.

  He laughs. “Not quite. He passed away last year, and I hadn’t talked to him since the day I left his office. He was pissed that I’d walked out on everything he’d built, plus he claimed he did it all for me.”

  “How sad. You hadn’t talked to your father in years and then he died out of nowhere?”

  I see him swallow and his eyes fall to his plate. “I knew he was sick. It wasn’t unexpected.”

  “And you didn’t try to make amends?” I’m almost shocked.

  “What can I say? I’m an asshole, as well as an ungrateful son, according to him. Either way, he died, and left his firm to my mother. She sold it, because let’s face it, she had no idea what to do with it, and I started my own firm. Styles, Schmidt & Fitz is now the top law office in Chicago.”

  “Do you regret it?” I ask in a whisper, almost afraid to meet his eyes.

  “Every day,” he admits, and that makes me jerk my head up to see the guilty look on his face.

  “When I found out he was sick, I waited to see if he’d reach out, but he was a stubborn, sick old man. I thought, ‘If he can’t be bothered, then why should I?’ So I pushed everything and everyone away.”

  “Do you still talk to your mom?”

  He shakes his head sadly. “No, after my dad died, she slowly went downhill. She moved in with my sister, who now takes care of her and her health issues.”

  “Health issues?”

  He nods. “She’s got dementia. She doesn’t even know me anymore. And to be honest, it’s easier that way. If she doesn’t see me or remember me, then she can’t remember the way I disappointed them both.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “But enough about me. Why don’t you tell me something about you? Where are you from?”

  I swallow down the thick tension that’s forming in my throat. I didn’t mean for things to take such a serious turn. No wonder he is the way he is. He keeps everyone at arm’s length, not in fear of being hurt, but in fear of hurting them.

  I clear my throat. “I, um,” I shake the sadness from my mind, “I’m from down south. Carbondale, Illinois. After my dad passed away when I was two, my mom moved us up here where her family was.”

  “How’d your dad die?” he asks, bluntly.

  “Cancer,” I reply.

  “Well, it’s good you at least have family here.”

  I nod. “My mom is here, plus my aunt and a few cousins. Most of our family has moved, and my grandparents passed away years ago.”

  “How do you like your dinner?” he asks, and I feel like it’s his way of changing the subject.

  “It’s good.” I nod and take another bite of chicken.

  “What do you do for fun?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I’m not sure anymore. When El moved out, it kind of left me in a tough position. At first it was fine, but then I had some unexpected dental issues, the transmission went out on my nine-year-old Jetta, and Cocoa got sick, so I couldn’t afford to do anything. I could barely afford to eat. That’s why I didn’t turn a light on when you were there. The power had been shut off. This job offer came just in time.”

  “So, what do you plan on doing with your money? Besides spending it on that old fleabag.”

  I roll my eyes and ignore his snide remark about my cat. “I have to find a new place to live. It’ll need to be someplace more affordable, which in this city means a roach hole in a shitty part of town, so that’s awesome.”

  “You mean you’re not going to run out and buy a new car or something?” He smiles as he looks at me from beneath his lashes.

  I half smile. “No. I mean, I’d love to, but I need to be more responsible and make sure I never end up without power again.”

  “Thanks for doing this, Samantha,” he says softly.

  A small smile forms. “You’re helping me out just as much as I’m helping you.” I shrug one shoulder.

  “What’s your favorite movie?” he asks out of nowhere.

  I think about it for a few seconds. “It’s a tie between The Goonies and Fried Green Tomatoes.”

  “Would you like to watch one of them after dinner in the theater?”

  My eyes stretch wide. “You have a theater?”

  He nods as a smug smile spreads across his face. “I do.”

  I smile, giddy and excited. He may be an arrogant douche, but he’s playing nice and I’m not about to pass up the perks that come with this arrangement. “I’d love to!”

  After dinner, Cameron leads me up to his room. I’m a little confused about why we’re in his bedroom, but I’m completely overwhelmed by the vast interior. There is a massive bed and several doorways to what I assume are closets and the bathroom, but then he opens one and leads me into a dark room. Soft lights flicker on and there are several rows of comfy-looking reclining chairs sitting in front of a wall-sized screen.

  “Have a seat. I’ll start the movie and grab us some snacks. Any must-haves?”

  I plop down and pull the blanket off the back. “Cherry Coke, buttery popcorn, and Red Vines?”

  He smiles and nods before sliding his hands into his pockets. “Coming right up.” He leaves me alone, and I’m speechless. Who the hell actually keeps all that on hand just for a movie night?

  He’s so different from how I thought he’d be. Since he’s brought me into his home, he’s been kind and gracious, not spoiled and entitled. Sure, he’s got that cocky grin, but I probably would too if I had built this kind of life for myself.

  I think El would be surprised to know this side of him. She’s only ever heard of his softer side from Griffin. It makes me wonder more about Griffin and their friendship. Have they known each other long? Did they grow up together? Does he know the reason Cameron pushes everyone away? Finding out about his family makes my heart hurt for him in ways I didn’t think possible.

  Before, when we had only met at our business dinner, I thought he’d be cold and mean. I thought he was the type of man who used women, and I guess, maybe he is. But now I know why, and it makes me want to help him—to show him he doesn’t need to be this way, and that he could really find someone to be his actual fiancée if he’d stop pushing them away.

  And like that, my mind is made up. While I’m not the woman Cameron needs, I will make him see what he’s worth, make him understand he can have it all, and hopefully with any luck, help him repair the relationship he has with his family.

  Moments later, the room darkens and the screen lights up. Cameron comes back into the room—arms loaded down with all of our snacks. He hands me my Cherry Coke, a big bowl of popcorn that’s glistening with butter, and several packages of candy.

  “I know your only request was Red Vines, but I like to have a little variety. I have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I always have an ungodly amount of candy on hand.” He sits in the reclining chair next to me and makes himself comfortable as he flashes me a toothy, boyish grin.

  “Which movie did you pick?” I ask, tossing a few pieces of popcorn into my mouth.

  “You’ll see,” he says around a smile as he lifts a remote and clicks a button.

  The room fills with sound and my eyes leap up to the screen in time to see the words Fried Green Tomatoes.

  I giggle. “I can’t believe you have this movie. It’s so old, most people don’t even know what I’m talking about. And in my experience, most dudes aren’t jumping at the chance to watch an emotional chick flick.”

  He gives a little shrug as he looks over at me, “It’s one of my favorites too.”

  A small tingle runs through my body and it feels like there’s an electric current bouncing between us. It makes my stomach tighten with anticipation and confusion. I’m not supposed to have these feelings about him. He’s supposed to repulse me—thi
s man who goes through women like water and hires one to make him look like a “family man.”

  But there’s something I can’t put my finger on. It’s not the luxury he’s exposed me to or his good looks. It’s little things like the way he smiles at me and the way his eyes darken. It’s like I’m seeing the real him for the first time—the person he hides away from everyone else—like he’s letting his guard down just a little with me, and I like it.

  Chapter 8

  Cameron

  I find myself watching her more than the movie. I’ve seen this movie a thousand times. It’s one of my favorites…yeah, yeah, I know that’s lame for a dude to admit, but I guess I have a soft spot in me somewhere. But watching her watching it is like experiencing it for the first time. I can’t help but smile when she laughs, and I love how giggling causes wrinkles to form across her nose. When her eyes tear up and she gently wipes at her nose, it feels like my heart skips a beat. I don’t even really know this woman, but it hurts to see her sad.

  My body tingles as a need to make her feel better takes over. My eyes drop to her full, plump lips as her tongue darts out to lick some leftover salt from the popcorn. The butter has left them glistening, and I can’t help but imagine nipping one of them and then slipping my tongue between them.

  I grip the arms of my chair to hold myself back. This is business, I remind myself. She isn’t a friend. She isn’t a girlfriend. She’s an employee, and that’s how I should treat her. I need to keep my distance. I’m not the kind of man she needs or wants. I’m nothing more than a means to an end for her. I’m a giant dollar sign that promises to pull her out of her misery. She could never look at me and see anything more, and even if she did, I’d do nothing but hurt her. I don’t know the first thing about relationships.

  I tell myself that what I’m feeling is nothing more than confusion. I’m not used to spending this much time with a woman. Usually, I find one in a club, rock her world, then leave her behind satisfied. Just the fact that I’m spending this much time with Sam is confusing my body. But I know I have to keep it straight in my mind.