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Harold had been working on something that he wasn’t willing to let Cameron be involved in. As his second in command, he was involved in pretty much all of his father’s business affairs. It had to be something he wanted to keep secret. Perhaps it was the key I needed to unlock his sordid deeds. Shit Maeve, I scolded myself. You should have just kept your mouth shut and tried to find out what he was hiding. Now I’d be miles from Harold’s secrets and stuck in an apartment with Cameron.
Would I be able to smother the growing sexual tension that seemed to bamboozle my brain whenever I was near him? I hoped so.
It was late when we finally reached the gated apartment building, Benny dropping us off with a quiet nod as I gaped up at the yellow stone exterior. The building was big and old, the outer facade richly decorated with Victorian flare. When the doorman let us in with a deferential bow to Cameron, it was like walking into another world. The interior was sleek and glamourous, full of glass and stonework, mirrors and gilded frames. He led me to the elevator and ushered me inside.
‘What floor?’ I asked as I looked for the button pane. There were no buttons at all, only a hand print pad.
He stepped up against my back as my breathing hitched while he reached around me, pressing his hand to the pane. ‘I own the basement level and the top two floors. This is a private elevator. I’ll get your hand print signature added tomorrow.’
‘Aren’t you afraid I’ll run?’ I said as his breath tickled at my ear as he failed to move away despite a green light flashing and the doors closing, sending us upward toward his domain.
‘I’d find you Maeve.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you're mine.’ I glanced over my shoulder at his words, surprised to hear him be so possessive of me. I waited for the wave of indignation to hit me, but was surprised to find myself awash with a mix of other emotions at his words. Was it lust? Pride? Desire?
Damn, I needed to get it together.
I turned to face him and swallowed hard as he reached up and tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear.
Wracking my brain didn’t help me produce a response, and relief flooded me as the doors sprung open, allowing me to duck away from him and into his apartment.
I say apartment, but it was like an apartment on steroids. The rooms were enormous, with high ceilings and endless windows, the city glittering beyond.
The lights drew me like a little moth, and I stood at one window watching the cityscape twinkle before me, my eyes following it up to Edinburgh Castle, gently glowing up above. It took my breath away and filled me with wonder. I’d been to Edinburgh before, but to see it from such a high vantage point and so close to the castle was a treat. I could get used to it.
‘Your room is this way,’ Cameron said, drawing me back into the room as he spoke. He showed me the kitchen and dining area, the sitting room with its huge sofas and wall size TV, and along a corridor to a series of suites.
‘This is you,’ he said, opening a door into a beautiful lounge room, with multiple doors leading off of it. ‘You should be comfortable here. There is a bathroom, kitchenette, walk-in wardrobe, the bedroom is through there. I’ve called ahead and had the kitchenette stocked for you and some clothing put into the wardrobe. You can order in anything else you need, just call the concierge using one of the house phones.’
‘Thank you. Your home is beautiful, Cameron.’
Everything was perfect, and comfortable and the lap of luxury, but I’d have been lying if a pang of regret didn’t set my tummy aflutter. There’s be no having to share a bed. No pretending. I was safe, and finally had a private space to myself, so why did I sigh when he let himself out of the room? The click of the door feeling like a mini-rejection all over again.
I pressed my palm onto the elevator scanner and sighed happily. The private basement was an absolute dream. There was a fully equipped gym and a fifty metre pool that I’d spent the afternoon swimming in. My muscles had that glorious post swim achy sensation that I’d missed and I finally felt calmer than I had since I’d learned I’d be married off to Cameron.
I cinched my robe tighter about my waist as the elevator slowed to a halt and opened into the apartment, the afternoon light spilling through the windows and sending glowing gold cascading over everything in the room.
‘Hey,’ Cameron said, his voice punching through my dreamy countenance. I hadn’t realised he’d returned from whatever business he’d been doing for the morning. My hair was damp and unbrushed and I wore nothing but the towelling robe and some slippers. Logically, I knew I shouldn’t care that he saw me like that. He had on our honeymoon, but the turmoil in my tummy told me I cared.
‘Um, hey. I didn’t realise you’d be back so soon.’
Cameron snickered as I joined him in the kitchen, and those golden flecks in his eyes glittered. ‘Don’t sound too disappointed that I’m back.’
‘I just, wasn’t quite company ready,’ I said as I ran a hand through my hair, trying to detangle it with my fingers.
‘I’m not company... you can relax here.’ He poured me a coffee and handed it over. ‘How was your swim?’
‘Glorious. God, I’ve missed it. I swam every day back at ours. It keeps me sane.’ I knew he understood. He used the gym as his own personal therapy. I spied the plate of pastries that had appeared on the counter, courtesy of him or a housekeeper I didn’t know.
‘Oh, my god! Are those from Patrice’s? I’d recognise the Religieuse anywhere.’ I didn’t even wait for him to answer before nabbing one of the cream filled buns from the plate and taking an indulgent bite out of it. The soft chocolate topping was a dream, and followed by the burst of flavoured cream, I was in heaven. I moaned as the flavours filled my mouth.
Cameron watched me intensely, his fingers gripping at the edge of the counter as I took another mouthful and groaned again. Patrice’s was my absolute favourite, and the Religieuse was to die for.
‘Fuck, I could watch you eat that all day.’ Cameron stepped toward me as a blush heated my cheeks. I was eating it like a woman starved, hardly a ladylike prospect. He raised a finger and swept it over my lower lip, sending a quiver down my spine. He’d scooped up some cream that had been stuck there and slowly licked it from his finger. I paused as he grinned, while I was well and truly rooted to the spot. He was so close that I could reach up and kiss him, if I had wanted to. My pulse danced at the thought of capturing his lips in mine and tasting that delicious cream on his tongue.
I cleared my throat and took a step back, breaking the tension that thrummed through me. Kissing him would be a stupid idea. A bad, bad plan. It didn’t mean that the thought of his lips didn’t fill me with heat.
