Read Story: SEASON 2 EPISODE 124

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A few minutes later, Helen and I left the study and made our way back toward the main foyer/living room. My lawyer had a thoughtful little smile as she stared at the floor, likely imagining how Bobbi would take the news. I still wasn’t quite sure how to tell her. Part of me suspected that she would balk at the idea of carrying my child, but another part of me wondered if she might come to accept it… or even like the idea. After all, being the mother to my child meant that her place was more cemented here—that there would be less of a chance of me kicking her out of my home if I had the whim… something that still seemed to occasionally haunt her.

I hadn’t exactly done anything to suggest that I would banish her. In fact, I thought that we were moving past some of our earlier issues, but while Bobbi still balked at commands and snapped at me sometimes, some of that seemed to stem from insecurity… like she was afraid of losing the privilege she’d acquired. Perhaps having a kid would help continue to smooth out more of her rough edges.

It would certainly give her something else to do.

“Need anything else from me?” Helen asked as we entered the living room.

“I don’t think so,” I said, scanning the room. Erin had been right… some of the people from the rooftop had migrated inside. Most of my couch space was taken up with guests, and I heard laughter drift from somewhere out of sight.

The people sitting on the couches included Shea, Camille, William (her fiance), Ian, Charity…

“Hey! There you are.”

Charity got up from the couch and sauntered toward me, hips doing things that would’ve had my full attention ten minutes ago.

But all I saw was Rajesh Desai, parked on my couch, holding court with Shea like he owned the fucking room.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I asked as soon as Charity was in range—

—and caught the full impact of her bikini, her ink, and her very intentional smile.

Jesus. If Erin hadn’t just taken the edge off me, I’d have already pinned Charity against the wall and thanked her for the view.

“He’s well-known all over New York, London, and Dubai, and his socials have a lot of eyes,” she said. “He’s good for your image… especially after he voted against you and Chandler. Publicly cozying up might send a message. A good one.”

Desai leaned in to say something to Shea, caught my eye mid-sentence, and gave me the kind of smile that belonged in a Crest commercial. He raised his glass at me like we were friends as he said something to Shea, and she laughed.

Seriously… fuck everything about this guy.

William, sitting across from Desai, leaned in and said something about banking, spurring Desai into a discussion with the man that I only caught half of. Shea listened half-interestedly while Camille and Ian spoke quietly in what sounded like French.

“I don’t like him,” I said, still staring at the man. “I wish you’d asked before inviting him.”

“You did say you wanted to make a splash.”

“I said I wanted influencers and social media people,” I snapped.

I glanced at Charity. She always seemed so calm and confident, but in the face of my critical tone, she seemed to deflate a little, and despite my feelings toward Desai, guilt at making a flower like Charity wilt invaded my mind.

“Sorry,” I said. “You’re right. I did ask you to make sure it made the news, and you weren’t there to see how much I hate this guy. You did your job. This is on me.”

She seemed to brighten slowly at that, like a turtle cautiously peeking out of its shell. “I genuinely didn’t know you hated him. I’ll clarify in the future if I even suspect something might be off.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Are we good?” she asked.

“We were never not-good,” I said, giving her a small, reassuring smile.

She returned it. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I thought I was done drinking for the evening,” I said, “but if I’m dealing with this guy, then maybe I’m not. Yeah… I’ll take another drink.” I gave her my order, and she brushed her hand against the back of mine as she passed by me and disappeared to fulfill my request.

William and Rajesh were deep in conversation, and at that moment, I was grateful for the Scandinavian banker acting as a buffer.

Shea, not particularly interested in banking, had risen from her spot during mine and Charity’s conversation and had joined Camille and Ian, also breaking out in pristine French. Helen had disappeared, and I was just starting to wonder if it was a mistake not to leave with her.

Camille got up from the couch, leaving the other two to talk, and made her way over to stand beside me.

“I assumed you wouldn’t mind if I joined the others, since William is here,” she said, her attractive husk made moreso by the lilt of her French accent.

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah… that’s fine.”

“Thank you,” she said, her stormy gray eyes twinkling in appreciation. “And welcome back.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Out of curiosity, how much does everyone know about where I’ve been?”

“Most of us know your helicopter was attacked and you were lost in a forest in Norway for a few days,” Camille said. “It is something that is spreading quickly among the public, but not much is known beyond that.”

“Great,” I said, annoyed that I seemed to have so little control over how much the world knew about my life.

“Oh,” she said, “don’t look too sad. Charity has done wonders to make the best impression. Surviving such a thing makes you seem strong and manly. It is something many men idolize and many women admire.”

I eyed her. Her smile… the way she played with the end of her caramel-colored hair… she was flirting with me.

With her fiancé in the same room.

This wasn’t the first time she’d overtly teased me. It had been confusing… especially after meeting William, who seemed like a nice guy. I decided to get some answers.

“Hey, what’s the deal?”

She arched an eyebrow at me. “Deal?”

“Aren’t you engaged?”

“Oui,” she said, then repeated, “Yes.”

“Then why are you flirting so hard with me?”

She leaned in conspiratorially, seemingly unfazed by me calling her out. “Because you are an uncommonly wealthy and handsome man.”

“Yeah, but so is William.”

“Oh, certainly!” she agreed. “But just because I am engaged to a wealthy, handsome man doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate another one.”

I had a hard time believing she was just flirting for sport.

“So that’s all this is? Appreciation?”

Camille’s full lips curved into a gentle smile. “Of course.”

I stared back at her for a moment, but when she didn’t add anything more, I started to straighten.

“Unless… you’re interested in anything more than appreciation.”

I froze in place as I stared back at her. She simply continued with that mysterious smile.

“I’m sorry?”

Pressure on my thigh drew my attention, and I looked down to see that Camille had discreetly pressed her palm against my leg. The tips of her fingers gently massaged the muscle as her thumb ran back and forth across the fabric of my pants.

I glanced up to meet her gaze and was met with the slow-burning heat full of hidden intent, carefully calculated so that no one else who glanced our way could tell what was happening.

“Is my English not good enough?” she asked softly, just loud enough for me to hear.

“No… I understand you. I’m just not in the habit of sleeping with another man’s wife,” I said. “Fiancé, I mean.”

Hiro Tanaka and Roger VanCamp would probably beg to differ, but I considered those extenuating circumstances.

“Even if the fiancé is okay with it?”

I gave Camille a long look as her hand rested on my thigh. Even though she didn’t fit into the clean lines or sharp silhouettes that so many of the other women in my life seemed to have, she was still a beautiful woman. She had a kind of softness that felt lived-in rather than curated—hips that moved with a generous sway and the suggestion of thighs that stayed kissed by each other when she walked.