Penthouse Prince (7 page)

Chapter Twelve

Kaycee dumped her milk, again, and Jeanie leaped to sop it up before it dribbled onto the floor.

Sophia, one of the maids, brushed her hands aside. “I have this, Miss Jeanie.”

“Seriously, you don’t have to clean up after her. I keep telling all of you that. It’s my job. You weren’t hired to keep up after a five year old and—”

Dark eyes serious, Sophia caught her arm. “The fact you don’t need us to makes it more of a pleasure. Sit down, eat your breakfast.”

With a sigh, Jeanie obeyed. “I meant to ask you…who got the dollhouse? Toys keep appearing in her room.” Breaking a piece off the still-warm croissant, she rolled her eyes at how awesome it tasted. When she got back to the real world, she really needed to find a way to include warm croissants in their budget.

“Mr. James sent that piece up, ma’am.” Sophia cleared a plate away, and Jeanie dropped the soft bread onto her plate in annoyance.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” Camden swept into the room, eliciting a squeal from Kaycee, who leaped up and ran at him full speed.

“Kaycee! You can’t keep running at people. Not everyone is going to catch you.” Jeanie watched in frustration as Camden did just that, scooping the little girl up and twirling her before settling her back on her feet.

Avoiding her gaze, Camden found a place at the table, waved at the help to dismiss them, and sat down like he owned the place.

Which, of course, he did. Usually, he didn’t interrupt their breakfast routine, though, mostly pretending to respect Jeanie’s wish for him to stay away from her child.

“Good morning, Jeanie.” Finally willing to make eye contact, he pinned her with an expression so intimate and comfortable, she decided it was her turn to avoid looking at him.

“Camden.” Fiddling with her fork, it took her a second to remember her annoyance over the toys. “You can’t keep buying her stuff. For one, it’s not in our contract. For two, you’re going to spoil her. If you make every day Christmas—”

“If you make every day Christmas, then every day rocks. Kids are only kids for a minute. It might as well be fun.” Accepting a cup of coffee from Sophia who’d reentered the room, he smiled at the woman before dismissing her again.

“But—”

“My vacation has been more fun with the toys,” Kaycee inserted. Dunking a slice of toast into an egg yolk, the child was oblivious to the adult tensions circling above her blond curls.

“Vacation?” He seemed interested, his dark brows arched toward his hairline. “You’re on vacation, Kaycee?”

Opening and closing her mouth, Jeanie tried to figure out how to tell him about her cover story to the little one.

“Yes, Mommy says this is our vacation. We didn’t go anywhere though, but here.” Thunks sounded from under the table as she swung her legs, feet knocking into the chair. “My friend, Jessica, she went on vacation and she saw an elephant. I’m hoping Mommy takes me to see an elephant before our vacation is over.”

Camden spoke very seriously. “She probably will. Your mama is probably a hundred times cooler than Jessica’s mom.”

Kaycee giggled, and Jeanie smacked the table. “Camden…”

“Yes, right, we have work to do. Kaycee, do you mind if I borrow Mommy for the day?”

“Sure. Make sure she comes home for my bedtime story.” The thunking paused as she carefully reached for her milk glass, nearly toppling it again.

“Will do.” He pulled Jeanie’s chair out. “Ready to hit the road?”

Sighing, since arguing with him didn’t seem to get her anywhere, she stood and followed him out of the room. “I really wish you’d respect my wishes and stay away from her.”

“I’ll write you up a list of my wishes, and when we can accomplish any of them, I’ll start work on yours. In the meantime, we have a problem.” He strode through the maze of hallways and led her to the elevator. His long legs ate up ground, making her almost jog.

“We do?”

“Yes, we actually do.”

He paused, and now he had her attention. What was such a big deal that the Penthouse Prince would hesitate to tell her?

“What is it?” she said.

Finally he said, “My father announced that we’re getting married this weekend. That the engagement party would be Friday. He did so at a very important gala last night, with most of the major press watching, and it’s gone viral.”

She raced to keep up and slipped into the elevator right before the doors whispered closed. “So, have your lawyers found their loophole? Or what is your plan?”

He met her eyes for a second, then his gaze slid away. “No plan. No loophole…it looks like we have an engagement party to attend.”

Last night, she’d felt so close to him. Like maybe they were from different worlds, nothing in common, but maybe they had a connection.

Maybe he was more than his sum parts, and so was she, and together…

But it was all a game to him, and who knew how far he would play it to get what he wanted?

Swallowing, feeling stupid for almost allowing herself to get wrapped up in the illusion, she searched for the right words. “Maybe…”

The elevator dinged, and he buzzed out, apparently using his extra energy from his night’s rest to become even more erratic than normal. “Come on. We need to hustle.”

She raced to keep up with him, but once at the car, she stopped to allow him to open her door, then slid inside.

“We’re late,” he added, climbing in on his side.

“Maybe the solution is easier now.”

“Huh?” He put the car in gear, backed up, and then sped out of the parking garage.

“Maybe—”

Her phone buzzed. Annoyed at the interruption, she thumbed it to life and read the texts.

Quit ignoring me. I know where you are. Meet me for coffee, right downstairs from your little love nest, noon. Or I could come up…your choice. Don’t be late.

She swallowed hard, then replied.
I’m not sure if I can meet you there. Give me some time. We’ll meet, I promise. I’m not sure if I’ll be at the building at that time, though. Can you give me another day or two?

The response came back in seconds, or a lifetime, Jeanie wasn’t sure. She focused so hard on the phone, she didn’t know.

Fine. But soon, very soon. You know what happens if you let me down.

Exhaling in relief, she pocketed the phone and concentrated on remembering how to breathe, slow and steady.

“Who’s texting you?” He leaned over, as if he would peek over her shoulder.

“None of your business.” The snapped response wasn’t deserved, nor was it fair, but she couldn’t let him find out.

Not with so much riding on this working out.

He nodded, not looking her way. “So, you were saying—about the other problem?”

Closing her eyes, she pushed the words out on a rush. “Tasha is here now. You know, your real fiancée? So, basically, you don’t need me anymore.”

Chapter Thirteen

Telling. His response—or lack of response, in this case—to her bringing up Tasha’s reappearance on the scene spoke volumes.

She knew the job would end, that she’d find herself back in the real world and only be able to glean what she could about the rest of his story from the glossy pages of a magazine, but she didn’t realize she’d be hurt when it happened.

Not that she blamed him. His fiancée could only be described as stunning—black hair, gold skin—a perfect, gleaming bookend for his dark hair and blue-eyed handsomeness. Tasha belonged in this world, a poster child for the rich and elite, while Jeanie could only fake it.

Appearing at her side with a paper cup of coffee, Lowe studied her. “What did he do? I’ll kick his ass for you.”

Laughing, she accepted the caffeinated offering and sipped. “What makes you think there’s trouble in paradise? Am I that transparent?”

“I think that’s what I like most about you, Jeanie. You would suck at poker, but your face doesn’t lie. Spend enough time around these goons and honesty becomes the rarest gem.”

“Jaded, much? No, honestly, nothing is wrong. I just foresee the end of my stint as Mrs. Penthouse Princess-to-be and I’m planning how to land on my feet when he shows me to the door.” Blinking fast, she swallowed a larger gulp of the sweetened java, hoping he’d think the money ending made her a bit sad.

His hand clasped her shoulder, his eyes soft and full of understanding she should rebuke. “No one is that good of an actress. You feel something for him. Why don’t you try something novel—you know, tell him? What could it hurt? Besides, as his best friend, I can tell you a little insider secret…” Leaning closer, he whispered, “He might like it.”

Snorting, she glanced up at the man in question, who was holding scissors above a red ribbon for the rededication of a building. Even from here, she could almost feel his gaze on her, a warm touch that sizzled her ability to think rationally. “He doesn’t need me. Not now. I’m not sure why he’s stalling, but Tasha is back. I mentioned as much in the car, and he didn’t answer me. I think we both know what
that
means.”

Lowe went quiet and stared at his shoes. “I wonder…do we?”

“What do you mean?” But the ribbon was cut, and the crowd stood in applause. With a quick leap, Camden was off the stage and shaking hands, making his way to her side. Once he joined her, he shot a quick glance at Lowe before hustling her back to the car.

“Today is booked solid. We’re basically just going from event to event. That coffee enough, or do you need me to stop for some lunch?” It seemed like just business, him making sure she was comfortable, but when he glanced at her, she saw something genuine in his eyes.

“I’m good,” she said. “Why don’t you have a driver? I keep meaning to ask—”

“I like my privacy.” The statement rang with honesty while being completely strange at once.

“Privacy? You’ve had me with you for stuff like this ever since you hired me. I’m sure you don’t need your fiancée at all of these events…so isn’t it messing up your alone time?” She didn’t mention going to him in the darkness. Something about those moments, stolen moments out of time if she stuck with his limo summation, was too private to be brought up in the light of day.

“No.”

She picked at the top of her coffee cup. He never gave one-word answers. He seemed so willing to fill the air with words, as if to distract everyone around him, the one-word answers just never happened.

Yet to her invading his private time? Just one word.
No
.

He captured her palm in his and stilled her nervous fingers. She glanced over to see his profile, jaw clenched and a single muscle ticking.

She leaned back in her seat and allowed the silence to fill the car and held his hand.

Maybe the reason he’d not yet evicted her from her position was he liked having her around?

Ridiculous, but a warm sensation filled her chest. It’d been a long time since someone wanted to have her around. She’d just live in that illusion until it popped like a soap bubble, because maybe…she didn’t like being alone, either.

…

Seeing Lowe and Jeanie, standing close and laughing, sent jagged waves of glass-filled frustration to slice at his chest.

Tasha had nailed it—Jeanie would be better off with someone like Lowe. Someone who understood her, would be willing to risk everything to show her he loved her, someone who wasn’t living a life devoted to revenge.

Just because Tasha was right didn’t mean Camden was willing to give Jeanie up.

She might be better off with Lowe. She might be better off far away from their world, quietly raising Kaycee until some nice run-of-the-mill man came along and realized what a treasure they both were and scooped them up.

But it didn’t matter what was better for Jeanie. She’d signed his contract, she wore his ring, and she lived in his house. She’d made her choices, and now he’d see she lived with them. She was his, for better or worse, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He couldn’t just marry her, not even after his father had made that announcement to force his hand. He couldn’t rightfully expect Jeanie to agree to such a thing. She’d only agreed so far because he’d assured her this was temporary.

But part of him wanted her to marry him. To make their temporary arrangement last a while longer. They didn’t have to stay married forever. But to be with her as man and wife, even if only until his lawyer found the loophole…

Meanwhile, the world waited with baited breath for the bachelor of the year to marry.

What was he going to tell her?

Not my fault—insert innocent shrug—you’re just going to have to stay with me forever.

And her throwing Tasha’s return at him? How could he answer that without revealing he could give a flippety fuck less about the woman who didn’t hold a candle to Jeanie? So…he didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.
He played the situation to keep from revealing to her how much power she currently wielded. Sacrifice that tasty tidbit and let her know she mattered?

Stupid.
No intelligent man let a woman know she gained value—that she could rock his world with a frown. Better to keep the deck stacked in his favor…

Her silence and her hand warm in his caused him to cast a glance her way. A small smile played across her lickable lips, and her eyes were closed, as if she found peace in his presence.

He couldn’t admit to her how much it meant that she’d curled up in his arms last night. Waking with her still snuggled close, he’d wanted to lift her up, carry her to bed, and watch as her passion awoke with sleepy fire.

Instead, he’d let it go. Let
her
go.

He wondered if she’d come to him tonight. He wondered how long he could resist the temptation of her skin and simply enjoy the ease of her comfort with him.

Not long. Even now his body screamed for him to take her, claim her, feast on her flesh until she forgot everything but the pleasure he knew he could bring her.

But long enough, he hoped, to make sure she couldn’t leave him.

Planning. Leaning back in his seat, he relaxed muscles gone tight with sexual frustration. This situation was all about planning. He just needed to stay one step ahead and it would all go the way he wanted.