Penthouse Prince (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen

The sun, beating hot on her back, caused the suit jacket over the creamy blouse to itch. Hunger cramped at her stomach, a testament to the hour, and a headache crawled behind her eyes from too much caffeine, too little sleep the night before, and too much sun and fake smiling.

Camden stood in a group of important men, discussing a deal, and she waited. He looked, of course, like the day wasn’t taxing him in the least—white dress shirt unbuttoned at his neck crisp as when they’d started, dark denim falling perfectly to his shoes and smile as fresh as when he woke. If the man sweated under his suit jacket, she couldn’t tell—then again, perhaps he just controlled his body to the point that not even his sweat glands dared disobey. She’d spent the day waiting, not sure why he suddenly wanted to drag her to every single appearance he needed to make, and longing to go hide in the nursery with Kaycee.

Her calves ached, not used to the higher heels deemed appropriate for her position by his side. Her lower back throbbed and she would give anything to be wearing a pair of jeans and a tee shirt.

She wasn’t made for his world.

Her phone dinged, and she read another text.
Today? Or are you stalling until tomorrow?

Her real world called, biting her in the ass. She sighed.
Tomorrow. He’s got me traveling with him today. I can’t get away without it being obvious
, she responded.

His hand closed on her arm, and she stuffed the phone into her pocket quickly, not sure if he’d read over her shoulder or when he’d appeared. “What?” she snapped.

Raising his hands in a peace gesture, Camden backed up a step. “I wanted to tell you we can go. Figured we’d have dinner at home tonight…”

“Whatever.” She turned her back on him and stalked to the car, not really caring if he followed. He would go back to Tasha. She would deal with repercussions from this whole stint—she just wasn’t sure what cost would be demanded.
What if it was all for nothing?

Swallowing back the horrifying possibility, she slid into her seat and slammed the door closed.

He joined her after a moment, but he didn’t turn the key. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Dandy. Just fucking wonderful, Prince Charming. Please, just…take me home.”

He didn’t answer, but finally he started the car. “I think I need to feed you more often. You get snarly when you don’t get your meals.” His tone suggested he was joking, ribbing her to lighten the mood.

She wasn’t in the mood. “I’m not a child, Camden. You can’t just feed me and think it will end an argument.”

Silence filled the car.

“We’re arguing?” he asked. “I think I missed that. What are we arguing about?”

“Nothing. Just, argh. Shut your stupid rich face up, okay?”

He waited a beat. “My stupid rich face?”

She didn’t answer. He pulled up to his building. The doorman moved to grab her door, and she slammed it open, nearly hitting him. Bouncing out, she rushed through the lobby.

Camden caught up at the elevator. “So, we can agree that you’re cranky, is that a fair statement?”

“You’re still talking.”

“Hmm…”

She shot out of the elevator and into the penthouse.

Lowe waited for them, his brows furrowed in unhappiness. “Uh, we have a problem.”

Rubbing a hand over her face, she muttered, “Do you need me for this, or is it business stuff and I can have a minute?”

“Sorry, you might want to stick around for this. You’re the problem,” Lowe answered. With a flick of his wrist, he punched a button on a remote, pulling up the news.

“Today was a busy day for the Penthouse Prince. Starting at a rededication of the MacArthur building, he and his lovely, but unknown until a few weeks ago, fiancée traveled from event to event. Things got really interesting a little while ago at the construction site of the James wing of the hospital. Our crews caught this little exchange between the, up to this point, perfect couple.”

The screen shifted from the smiling face of the reporter to the construction site. The camera focused on Camden, shaking hands and smiling, but then panned to her when he moved to join her. She held her phone, attention obviously not on him, when he took her arm.

She yanked it away from him, hiding the phone in what looked like a guilty movement, before scowling up at him. After a moment, she stomped away and left him looking a little lost as he stared after her.

The reporter came back on, but a buzzing filled Jeanie’s head.

“You saw it here first, folks. The most wanted bachelor might soon be looking to mend his broken heart. I’m sure the available ladies will be lining up for that job.” The reporter’s smile was just a little leering, and Lowe shut the television off with an audible
click
.

“So, as you can both see, there’s a little hitch—”

“Yes!” Camden punched his fist toward the sky before slamming it down. Then he pointed at her. “You
lost
! I told you I’d win.”

“Lost?” Lowe looked confused, and Jeanie swallowed hard.

The headache battled with dizziness.
This isn’t happening. Not for real.
“You can’t…the bet? Really? But Tasha—”

“Really, Jeanie? You’re backing out of the bet once you lost it? You know we’re on a timeline because of the press leak by my father. At this point? We’re out of time. I need to know if you’re in or out, because if you’re backing out of our deal, I have to figure out something else, fast. You were kind of my last hope, and besides…you promised.”

Her first response would have been to tell him she was backing out. It was a terrible idea, and the bet had been a ridiculous one to begin with. But something about his face and the way he called her his last hope…

“I didn’t say I was backing out. I simply wanted to point out the stakes had changed. Tasha is back and—”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Tasha cheated once, and she’ll do it again. I don’t care about love, but I’ll be damned if I stay with someone who betrayed me. She’ll ruin everything. She’s nothing but a risk to me and what I’m trying to do. You have to realize that, don’t you? We have to act fast. Are you backing out, Jeanie?”

She turned away. “I don’t know.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. She turned around, expecting to see the slick businessman back in action, but there was something else in his expression. Need. And maybe a hint of desperation.

“I’m sorry I came on so strong about this,” he said. “This is your choice. If you want to back out now—if this is too much—I’ll find another way. But Jeanie…I need you. I promise, I’ll find a way to make this work for you. If you’ll just help me out a little longer.”

She bit her lip, hard, and closed her eyes. Her first thought had been to tell him to hell with his offer, but then she’d seen his face. The genuine plea for her help. He was giving her a choice.

And if she was honest with herself, nothing had really changed from when she’d first agreed to go along with this insane plan. She had nothing to lose. And if it all worked out? So much to gain.

Finally, she nodded. If he was still in, she wasn’t backing out.

The smile on his face couldn’t have been more genuine than if they were truly in love. “Then it’s settled,” he said. “We’ll do it Saturday. Lowe, clear my schedule for the weekend. I’m getting married.” With that, Camden strode out of the room whistling, and Jeanie tried to remember how to breathe.

“Did I miss something?” Lowe asked.

Jeanie didn’t answer.
Married.
The finality of the word gnawed at her, and she rushed to her room to try to figure out what to do next.

Chapter Fifteen

Probably, he shouldn’t snoop.

Yet he’d told Lowe to investigate the text he’d seen—albeit basically reading over her shoulder—since he felt he almost needed to know more, and Jeanie certainly hadn’t been forthcoming with the information.

The text he’d caught a glimpse of over her shoulder in the car chilled him.

I saw you on the TV. We need to make a new deal or I’m coming for her.

Kaycee? What other her would have Jeanie responding in panic every time she read something on her phone?

Jeanie had said they were sisters, but what if there was more to the story? He knew there was something, but words like “kidnapped” bounced around in his head.

His Jeanie wasn’t the kidnapper type. And if she’d kidnapped the kid, the person texting her wouldn’t be able to make veiled threats. The person would just turn her in or something, right?

The mystery, which he’d hoped would be cleared up by some tactical snooping, so far remained tangled even more with the added information he’d spied on the phone. The email on his own cell phone proved the investigator still hadn’t found out more, a disheartening turn of events. It seemed most information could be found quickly, yet his bride-to-be remained an enigma. He sprawled on the couch, trying to hide both his annoyance and curiosity about her, before shouting, “Are you almost ready? We need to get going.”

“Coming!” Her breathless response trailed down the hall and, a moment later, Jeanie came around the corner. “You’re the one who said I needed to look even more outrageously rich than normal tonight.”

He couldn’t find words.

Stunning.
A description he’d used hundreds of times to compliment women, but the true definition snapped into place when she added a self-conscious smile, just for him. Like old gold, her hair fell in curls, artfully disarrayed like the elegant up do couldn’t contain the wealth of shining softness. The gown, burnished copper, made her skin look creamy and allowed her eyes to really stand out. She spun, slowly, and glanced over her shoulder at him. “So, do I pass inspection?”

Swallowing hard, he realized he should be doing something.

Standing. Yeah, I’ll stand up.

He found his feet and tried not to stumble over his words like an awkward teenager. “You look lovely, Jeanie.” He heard the raspy, husky need in his voice, even if she didn’t seem to.

Her smile turned rueful, and she moved to his side. “Sure.”

“What? Seriously, you look beautiful. I’m afraid to touch you and rumple you.” Which was a flat out lie. He wasn’t afraid to touch her…even though he resisted the impulse to do so. He wanted to dive his fingers into the hair, loosen the pins, and watch it fall over her bared shoulders. Then he’d kiss them and work his way up her neck until he could nibble that ever-tempting, full bottom lip.

“Well, thank you then, but we still need to talk. You can’t really
want
to marry me.” The doors opened, and she pulled away from his arm to lean on the wall.

“But I do.” He paused. “Are you reconsidering?”

“It’s crazy. I know what you said, what kind of position your father’s put you in, but…it sounds crazy to do this.” She huffed out the words, her pretty brow crumpling as she spoke.

“Maybe it is crazy. I won’t force you to marry me. But imagine, if you would, that we
do
go through with it. You’ll be in the penthouse, at least for part of the year. You’re not a stranger, not any more. We both get what we want if we do it, neither of us get what we want if we don’t, so why not just do it?” Getting out in the parking garage, he rushed to her side of the car to hold the door open.

“You’ve known me, what? A few weeks?” She pulled up the skirt, and he glimpsed her calves, muscles taut in the strappy heels.

But I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you. I knew I wanted to marry you before I’d known you a day.

He didn’t say it, and he faltered a step as he realized it was the truth. Maybe there wasn’t something so impossible as love between them, but he felt something for her. Something true and genuine. Maybe the most true feeling he’d felt in a long time.

He flashed her a smile. He didn’t do romantic declarations. Words were weapons, words could be lies, so he didn’t bother with the emotional ones. People too often felt the need to respond in kind, even if they didn’t mean it, and he’d grown too old and wise to hang his hopes on forced declarations. Better to give a straightforward explanation.

“In some countries,” he said, “arranged marriages are common. It’s a very modern idea, this need to fall in love and get married based on an emotional and largely pheromonal response to someone. Besides, I like you, we get along, and you look good in orange.”

“Orange?” she sputtered.

He laughed at what she’d said as he closed the car door on her side. Then he went to the driver’s side, got in, and started the car.

“Orange. That dress. What color would you call it?” He would call it rusty copper or radiant, but orange seemed like the road to distraction, so he rolled with it.

“It’s bronze.”

Close to copper.
“Okay, bronze then.”

She blew out a breath, apparently ceding the conversation. Silence filled the car as he drove to the location his assistant had sent to his phone. Once they pulled into the overhanging circular driveway, Jeanie broke the silence. “So, we’re doing damage control?”

“Yes, dancing and adoring each other in public so the press can get some pictures of us happy together again. Then we’ll head home. You already read to Kaycee, right?”

She nodded. He pulled up, then tossed the keys to the waiting valet before opening her door to give her a hand out. Her gaze, when she looked at him, was beyond adoring. He bit back a smile and advised, “Stop staring at me like that.”

“What? It’s my blind adoration face.” Her lips quirked, her wide-eyed stare not faltering, and he nudged her with his shoulder.

“Less blind adoration. You’re supposed to look at me like you love me, not like you’re an obsessed fan girl.”

Her laugh tinkled out, warming his skin. Cameras flashed, and he smirked. “Better.”

“Why thanks, Prince Charming. So can you dance?” The music thumped, a heavy, fast beat.

“Sure.” He pulled her on the dance floor and waited.

“Aren’t you supposed to move?” She laughed the words, arms loose at her sides.

“Wait for it…” He lifted his hand and clicked his fingertips. The music abruptly changed to a slow and bluesy vibration, and couples slowed all around them. With a smile, he swooped in, tugging her body flush to his own.

“Oh, you think you’re pretty damn slick, don’t you?” She smelled as good as she looked, and he gave into the temptation to nuzzle at her jaw.

“I am pretty damn slick.” He whispered right into her ear, allowing his lips to brush the curve of her lobe. She shivered, and his smile bloomed.

Twisting her head, she considered him. “Ah, so I get the full weight of your seduction, tonight? Be still, my beating heart.” Her words might have been blasé, but her cheeks flushed. Returning to his nibbling, he noticed her pulse raced.

“Enjoy it. For tonight, we show them how much we care…” He touched her nose with his own and enjoyed the little catch of her breath as he ducked to lightly brush her lips.

“Does that mean you’re going to carry me out of here? Like the last time we went to a dance?”

He took a moment. “Maybe.”

“Lowe earns his paycheck, doesn’t he?”

The mention of Lowe irritated him. He didn’t want her in his arms thinking of another man. “Shh, just dance.”

Holding her close, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the way they moved together as the music swelled around them.