Penthouse Prince (16 page)

If he loved her, he would likely say something this morning. His hands would have shaken, just a little, like they did before he kissed her sometimes. Then his tongue would have thrust into her mouth, demanding her response, while his hands raced across her flesh. He would have made her cry out, like in the limo, bringing her to shaking orgasm, and he would have done it again and again until the edge of the continuous starvation for flesh found some kind of satiation.

He hadn’t.

None of it. He’d made breakfast instead of saying anything or trying to touch her at all.

“You don’t have to tell me you don’t want me, Camden. Actions speak louder than words, isn’t that the saying?” Reminding herself that for him it was only a business transaction didn’t stop the growing ache in her chest. Maybe he’d enjoyed himself in the meantime, but it couldn’t last. She tried to keep bitterness out of her tone, but she’d guarded herself against attachment, kept her heart safe for so long, knowing what damage love could do.

She’d guarded against it, avoided letting anyone close enough to hurt her like her mother hurt her dad—and her, to be honest. Her mother hurt her, betrayed her, and refused to really see past herself long enough to realize her daughter needed a mommy…

But no matter how much Jeanie guarded against love, it’d found a crack. It had snuck up while she wasn’t watching and it’d bit her in the ass.

She loved him—arrogant mask, tired mask, lonely man walking the floors all night—she loved the wretched creature from the top of his dark head to the bottom of his feet.

Fuck.

She braced her hand on the doorframe, and then she caught sight of the rings. The perfect rings, the wedding set she would have picked if she’d looked a lifetime for it, and another cold slap of reality hit her.

He was her husband, and she loved him. She could shut up now. Take back the words she’d said and let him live the lie he’d so carefully crafted. She could be his wife, revel in the joy of his arms around her, smile for the press and the whole world would think she had everything.

Everyone, that is, except me. I’ll know. I’ll know it’s the perfect lie, the happiest lie.

Her father…had he loved her mother like this? Knowing what she was, how she was, and not caring because, if he could have her, did it matter if she only faked it?

She had an equal part of him and her mother inside her. She could be Camden’s wife. She could love him and never let him know she wasn’t acting any more.

But it’s not enough.

I know how that story ends.

I saw it, I watched him come home to her. I watched him turn a blind eye to the obvious signs that she cheated, that she used him, that he’d never make enough money or be enough or…

“I refuse that,” she whispered to the beach.

“You said that already.” She hadn’t noticed he’d come to stand behind her, too lost in the game changing view of herself.

She turned, faced him, and knew what she had to do. “So, what happens next, Camden?”

“Well, according to all the books, once the handsome prince solves all the problems, he and the princess live happily ever after.”

His attempt at humor fell flat, and she frowned at him. “You’re no prince, and I’m not a princess—far from it. You married me; everyone saw it. The world knows I’m your bride. You can get your shares back, but you don’t need me anymore other than on paper. Maybe it’d be better if I went on a vacation somewhere, just vanished for a while.”

She gave him the words she needed him to say—pushed them at him so hard, she was sure he’d hear her thoughts just from the look in her eyes. Her very soul begged him to say them.

I do need you, Jeanie. I’ve fallen in love with you. Please don’t leave me.

He didn’t say any of the things she wanted to hear. Instead, he shrugged, mogul mask firmly in place on his exhausted face. “Well, we’re on our honeymoon now, so—”

“I said you don’t need me here now. I could go. I can walk out the door, and it won’t change a thing. You’ll still get everything you want. I’ll still get paid. We’ll both walk away from this with what we were promised when we started. Are you okay with that?”

She wished he’d say
No, stay
. Catch her hands or her face and hold her and admit he felt something, too. That it wasn’t just her. That she wasn’t the only one who fell into the trap of the lies and faked intimacy.

“It’d be lonely in the resort all by myself. Let’s just forget you brought this up for now, table it for later, so we can enjoy ourselves and a much-deserved break from public life. It’ll be fun. I promise. We can figure out beyond that as it happens, once we’re back at the penthouse.”

She shook her head, slowly. If she stayed, even for the day, she’d fall deeper under his spell and might never break free of it. She wanted so badly for him to be something he obviously wasn’t. She wanted the act to be reality. The vacation
would
be fun. It would be thrilling and challenging, and she’d laugh harder than she’d ever laughed before she’d met him, she was sure of it.

It’d be wonderful.

So wonderful, maybe she could convince herself she saw signs of his real feelings. Maybe she’d have more moments like the limo and the darkness and the zoo to add to the list of reasons she knew he cared.

Even though he didn’t. Not really.

“Take me home, Camden. I’ll go pack.” She slid between him and the wall, not even noticing he’d come into her personal space because she’d become accustomed to that part of his personality. But she didn’t touch him.

She might not be able to walk away if she touched him.

She made it to her room without letting a single tear fall. Her hangover raged, her stomach roiled, and her heart broke. She wouldn’t cry, though.

She pulled off her wedding rings and left them on the bedside table so she could shower without worrying about them. That’d be all she needed to top off her morning—losing rings worth more than a year’s worth of salaries.

She ran through her shower on autopilot. She dressed and avoided looking at her reflection. If she saw herself, acknowledged what she was doing, she might not be able to do it.

She grabbed her bag headed outside as her phone dinged an incoming text.

She could see Camden, out on the sand, considering the waves. Her heart ached, and she longed to go to him…to wrap her arms around him and let her life go to the promise of happily ever after. The door closed behind her with a very final-sounding
click
.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” she called out to him. He glanced back toward her and nodded, but she didn’t wait for him to catch up, instead heading for the car. The walk through the hotel felt longer by daylight, as if the night shrunk the distance because she’d headed towards a dream, while by morning she walked away from it.

She could go on without him.

Even if the idea of doing it left her so empty and more alone than she could ever remember feeling. Like someone filled her heart with shards of glass so every breath hurt, but it would get better.

It had to.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Two days had passed since they’d left their pseudo-honeymoon to resume relative normalcy. Neither spoke a word about what conspired on the disaster of a trip. Instead, Camden just barked out orders to the staff and spent most of his time closed in his office.

She developed a pattern of sorts, always knowing he wasn’t far away but that a gulf separated them. She woke up in the morning, played with Kaycee, worked with her on letters and numbers, gave her a bath, and went to bed.

Sometimes her phone beeped with an email, listing the appropriate clothing and where they were going. Without a word, she’d dress, then find her husband waiting by the bank of elevators, generally looking at his watch. No words were spoken as they traveled to whatever event. Once there, they went through the motions. She never met his eyes, practically memorizing how to look at him and focus only on his collar.

The kisses he’d peppered through their every interaction prior to the wedding were replaced with his hand at her waist or neck, and even those touches were given without the slightest personal connection.

Constantly, she battled tears, aching for what they’d had and how easily it’d slipped away. Her smile stayed pasted in place, her responses stayed polite, and no one seemed to notice the strain of her performance. She did her job, exactly, to the letter accomplishing what he’d paid her to be.

She didn’t sleep the nights away, instead imagined him, only a few rooms away, and stared out the window at the night as it passed below. She imagined, in those late hours, that they were perhaps the only two people in the city awake—staring into the darkness and yet unable to see each other across the chasm of class and pain which spanned between them. On the upside, being tired helped the days blur together and almost gave her something to focus on other than the empty hole in her chest where her heart used to live.

Almost.

It shouldn’t surprise her that he avoided her unless cameras loomed. When they did, his smiling mask matched the one she’d been perfecting, and they presented exactly what the public expected—the happy couple.

Even though she couldn’t get him out of her head.

She released the curtain she’d been holding and pulled out her phone as it beeped. She thumbed it unlocked, saw the email from Camden James, and opened it on a sigh.

Business casual, the missive advised, and she glanced down at the salmon colored dress fastened with a leather belt. If she simply slipped into a pair of low heels, what she wore already would work. She snagged the shoes and her purse, then reapplied her lip-gloss before heading out to the bank of elevators.

He stood, in designer jeans and a steel colored shirt, only the vibrancy of one of his pink ties breaking up the almost stark image of important man waiting impatiently. “Ready?” he asked.

She nodded. Lately, it seemed better if she just didn’t speak. Once they were in his car, she carefully kept her posture correct, feet off the dash, everything almost painfully polite.

He parked in front of the art museum, and a valet opened her door. She waited for Camden to exit the car, then took his offered arm. Her smile might have been brittle, but looking around at the other wealthy and elitist figures filling the gallery at the top of the stairs, she realized most of them probably wore masks, too. Perhaps that was how no one saw through their lies.

Everyone lied.

In moments, someone swept Camden into conversation, and Jeanie made small talk with a woman she’d met at other such events. She couldn’t recall the name, but she’d found it didn’t matter at these engagements. Someone would let the name of the other speaker drop in conversation, and she could bluff until then.

Actually, she was getting pretty good at living the lies.

A hand touched her side. She jolted and looked up at Lowe. Still model-handsome, the other man wasn’t wearing a mask. He looked concerned.

“Jeanie, do you have a moment?”

She made excuses to exit her prior conversation, then trailed after him as he led her to an alcove for a bit of privacy.

“Are you okay?” he asked without further ado.

Her fake smile withered under his knowing look. “I’m fine. Why would you ask?”

“Look, Jeanie.” He leaned close and lowered his voice so only she could hear him. “He told you about the loophole, right? I hadn’t heard if you wanted to go ahead with it, although it seemed safe to assume you’d worked out your issues together. I don’t know what happened, but—”

“Take your hands off my wife.” Camden’s voice snapped with fury, more emotion than she’d heard from him for days. Jeanie blinked at him in surprise, but Lowe found his voice first.

“Look, Cam—”

But he hadn’t released her, so Camden went into motion and shoved Lowe away. “I said don’t touch her.”

Lowe raised his hands and brows, then strode away in obvious annoyance.

Jeanie’s own anger riled at the interaction, and she faced off with her husband. “That was really uncalled for. What, I’m not allowed to talk to—”

“If it is a man in your bed you’re looking for, wife, I’m happy to fulfill my husbandly duty.”

White-hot rage bathed her, and flames of heat rose up her neck and seemed to shoot out her mouth as words. “You arrogant… He was talking to me—something you can’t be bothered to do, and you tell him off and then insult us both?” She thumped his chest again, then backed him into a wall. “How dare you?”

He licked his lips, looking like some seductive sex demon intent on devouring her right there in the art museum. “You’d be amazed what I’d dare, Jeanie.”

“I don’t know what this is all about, but all he wanted was to find out what I wanted to do about the loophole. He was doing his job, Camden, as you hired him to do.”

He blinked at her, not seeming even a little less angry. “So he took you aside alone to ask? So what did you tell him?”

“Nothing. You interrupted. However, I’ll tell you what I think…I need some time. I want to think things through.”

“Jeanie—”

But she was tired of his emotional constipation, his fast talking, and his arrogance. She was tired of feeling like she saw something more to him only to have his words confirm it’d been a glittering lie. “I said I need some time to think. Don’t try to contact me, because I’m not going to answer. I’ll let you know what I decide when I know.”

With that, she turned her back on her husband and went to collect her child from his lovely tower of empty promises.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

He rubbed his hand across the stubble on his face, then rolled his neck to loosen the muscles. He didn’t know where she’d gone.

Any logical person would have realized he’d offered her all that he had. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t foolish enough to believe in love, and really, her believing could be labeled childish. Most women would have jumped at his offer—security, sexual compatibility, and wealth without the unstable foundation of romantic notions cluttering the marriage. He’d proved they were good together.

But she’d left. No explanation beyond words they’d both spoken in the heat of anger. And she’d ignored his calls as she’d promised, even as he damned himself for being an idiot for trying. If she refused to see reason, why should he bother to continue the conversation?

But he did call. And she didn’t answer.

His exhausted brain seemed unwilling to whir to life, to come up with answers. Dealing with her made no sense, so how could he hope to find explanations for her irrational behavior? Late in the night, he found himself walking through her rooms—the toys he’d bought for Kaycee still littered the floor like ghosts of the child lingering to haunt him.

Probably it was for the best. He knew he’d likely make a poor father anyway. Playacting at husband and father with them had been an amusing way to pass time, and it had served a purpose, but he could go back to his life as it had been before they’d basically invaded and thrown everything topsy-turvy.

Once inside Jeanie’s room, he moved to her bed and lay on his back. The ceiling in her bedroom was identical to his own, but her sheets still carried the remnants of her scent. More ghosts, as if he needed them, but these ones he could easily exorcise. One visit from the maids, and he could erase their presence from his rooms if not from his mind.

The glitter on the bedside table caught his eye, and he sat up so fast that he had to blink past a wave of vertigo. He focused on the two rings neatly resting next to the lamp.

What kind of woman left behind rings like those? Surely even Jeanie realized he’d practically shoved a fortune on her finger. If she’d taken them and sold them, she and Kaycee could live in relative comfort for the rest of her days. But she’d left them behind, discarded them—discarded
him
—because he wasn’t enough.

Which he’d known.

He picked the rings up, cupped them in his hand, and stared at the proof she’d gone and didn’t intend to come back. But they proved more than her absence…

They proved she might not be like every other woman he’d met. She wasn’t a fool, since he knew she recognized the monetary value of the baubles. It simply hadn’t mattered to her.

Perhaps not all women lied and focused on wealth. Perhaps she truly was the rarest gem—a woman more concerned with emotional depth than wallet depth.

And she’d left him, really left him, not just left their home.

He gathered the rings and held them to his chest. He felt broken in a way he didn’t know how to cure. He’d offered her everything he had. He’d told her he cared, cherished her body.

But it—he—wasn’t enough.

His phone beeped, and he thumbed it awake.
Your wife texted me. Gave me the go ahead to proceed with the loophole.

Lowe. She’d left him…for Lowe. Maybe she hadn’t planned it that way, but Lowe could offer her the one thing Camden couldn’t. Hadn’t Tasha said it clearly only weeks before? Lowe was the kind of man who had something Camden didn’t. Lowe could love her, could believe in all the emotional mumbo jumbo, while Camden couldn’t pretend…

The betrayal should have been expected. Everyone left eventually.

He tossed the phone as hard as he could throw it, then carried the rings back to his rooms and stood in the bay windows. Like every other night, the city lay beneath his so called lair—money changing hands, people living and dying, and him far above, removed from all of it. Never part of the pulse, always alone.

Except he hadn’t been alone. Not while Jeanie was with him.

She’d filled up the darkness, made him feel like he was part of something.

And he’d basically shoved her away because he was afraid.

Always afraid, the poor little rich kid. Born with a silver spoon and the knowledge that the only thing loveable about him was the number of zeroes in his bank account. Maybe he was just like his dad after all; he’d simply deluded himself into believing otherwise.

Because when it mattered? He hadn’t been enough, either.

He moved to his desk, picked up the phone there, and dialed. He tapped his fingertips on the desk and fidgeted until he heard his best friend answer.

“Hey, did she say anything else?” Camden asked.

“Why would she? I thought ‘proceed with the loophole’ was rather clear, myself.” Lowe’s tone didn’t give him an iota of sympathy, and Camden’s lips tightened in repressed frustration.

“So does this mean you’re going through with your earlier threat? If she’s single, then she’s fair game?” He wished he could resist asking, but he felt like a raw nerve, as if everything he’d worked his whole life to hide was suddenly exposed and vulnerable.

Lowe’s laugh filled his ear, but he didn’t answer it. Finally, his friend asked softly, “Do you really think I’d go after the one woman who loves my friend? Because that’d be a rather dick move on my part, and I honestly believed you thought better of me after all these years.”

Camden swallowed hard and rubbed his face with one hand. “That wasn’t meant as a slur against you, Lowe. I mean, I get it.”

“Do you get it, Cam? Because it sure as hell sounds like you don’t.”

“What I meant was I get why you’d want to. She’s…” He trailed off, thinking of everything Jeanie was. If he believed in things like love…

Maybe that was the core, the root of the problem. Maybe he’d been so convinced that he didn’t believe in love, he’d missed it entirely when he stumbled across the kind of thing people wrote poetry about. His feelings for her were more than something so simple as love, though. He needed her. He couldn’t imagine going through the rest of his life as he’d lived before—everything had been so empty and meaningless before she stormed into his life and changed him.

“I love her, Lowe.”

Camden could almost hear the smile in Lowe’s words. “For a genius, you’re kind of slow, brother. Now, instead of telling me, have you mentioned that very important fact to her?”