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I exit theelevator on the eighteenth floor and follow the signs to room 1827. Danica texted me a few minutes ago that she was there and waiting. After catching Bain and Kiera in a compromising position, effectively precluding the steamy kiss I was after, I retreated to the ballroom. Kiera and Danica were in there talking for a few minutes before they split and went their separate ways. I headed straight for the bar to order a bourbon to calm my nerves.
I was bothered about finding Bain with Drake’s sister, as it could cause strife among the team. Drake has made no bones about wanting everyone to stay away from Kiera. But I’ve also got to deal with the fact that Bain is now rightfully assuming there’s something between Danica and me. I’ll have to answer for that.
For an hour, I waited for the event to conclude and I stayed far away from Danica, instead hanging out with a few of the single guys—Boone, Foster and Kirill.
Danica couldn’t leave the event until every last guest had gone home. I also couldn’t loiter around waiting on her because it would be too obvious. As such, I eventually settled into a dark booth in the back of the hotel bar. While waiting for Danica, I surfed on my phone and sipped at a club soda.
I’m wound tight when I knock on the door. Eager to see Danica, kiss her, slide inside her body, sleep all night with her. I’m also a little tense over my run-in with Bain. It brought to the fore the mountains that Danica and I still face if we want to be together. It’s getting… complicated.
Danica answers the door still wearing the black silk gown that, in my opinion, is the most perfect thing she could ever wear. She’s ditched her heels so the hem of the dress pools around her bare feet. Her hair had been up in some sort of loose swirl on her head, but now it’s flowing around her shoulders and my fingers itch to slide through the soft locks.
“Hi,” she says with a coy smile.
I smile back. “Hi.”
She motions me in and I brush past her, noting she has a small rolling suitcase sitting on a luggage rack. It’s open and hanging over the edge is a piece of sapphire-blue lingerie. I wonder if she’s going to put that on for me.
I hear the door click shut and I turn to face her.
“Some night, huh?” I say.
“Some night indeed,” she murmurs with a rueful smile as she comes to stand before me.
“What’s the deal with Bain and Kiera?” I ask.
Her face scrunches up and she tilts her head left, then right, as if she’s mulling over how to answer. Walking over to the bed, she sits and pats the area beside her. I settle down, our thighs touching, and I take her hand.
Her fingers compress lightly on mine. “They’re sleeping together.”
“I figured that out by the way they were kissing,” I say with a mirthless laugh. “How long has this been going on?”
Danica shrugs. “She was a bit tight-lipped. All she said was it’s a fling and they’re having fun. She was far more interested to know why you and I were holding hands.”
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth,” she says as if she can’t believe I would even ask such a question. “What did you tell Bain?”
I rub my hand over the back of my neck and look at her sheepishly. “Kinda brushed him off. It’s none of his business.”
“No, I suppose it’s not,” she says quietly.
“I guess it’s not so bad that Kiera knows,” I muse as I nudge my shoulder against hers. “I mean, y’all are good friends and it’s not like she would tell anybody, so it’s pretty contained.”
Something flickers in Danica’s eyes and it puts me on edge. “She’s not the only one who knows, Camden. I told Brienne.”
I surge off the bed, releasing her hand as I spin to face her. Panic presses down on me. “You told Brienne? She’ll tell Drake. He’ll tell the rest of the team.”
Danica slowly rises from the bed and crosses her hands over her chest in a very defensive pose. Her eyes narrow on me. “First, Brienne would never say anything without my permission. But I guess I’m wondering, why are you so freaked out about it? Are you ashamed to be with me?”
“Fuck no,” I blurt, lunging at Danica and forcing her arms away from her chest by grabbing her hands. “I could never be ashamed of you. But I do wonder if I should be ashamed of myself. I’m fucking walking all over Mitch’s grave by seeing his wife. I’m a douchebag.”
A myriad of emotions crosses Danica’s face, but it ends with empathy. She tugs her hands free, presses them into my chest and tips her head back to lock eyes with mine. “You are not a douchebag. You are not walking on Mitch’s grave. Have you been thinking this the whole time?”
“Well, yeah. Haven’t you? Haven’t you been worrying about if this is the right thing to do?”
Danica’s expression goes slack and she steps away as her gaze cuts over to the window. She’s not looking me in the eye when she whispers, “Nothing about you feels wrong. Except for the fact that you think it feels wrong.”
I growl in frustration because I’m not explaining this right. I put my hands to her cheeks, forcing her gaze back to me. “I don’t think we’re wrong. On the contrary, nothing has ever felt more right in my entire life. But that’s what I feel. I don’t think other people are going to understand, Dani. This is so fucking complicated.”
