Page 22 of The Billionaire's Proposal

Her eyes shift from left to right, and her mouth tugs to one side before she steps out the car.

“Good evening, Mr. Worthington,” the doorman greets me.

I want to say, I hope so. I hope this beautiful woman will give me an opportunity to tell her my story. Instead, I say, “It is.”

Cameron keeps her distance from me in the elevator. Gone is the I-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off Cameron, replaced by I-can’t-believe-I-let-you-fuck-me-in-a-bathroom Cameron.

Swiping my key card, she takes a hesitant step inside. There’s no indication she’s “wowed.” She simply stands, waiting for me.

“Wine?”

“No.”

I uncork a bottle anyway because whether she needs it or not, I do. I pour both of us a glass and set it on the glass coffee table.

“Have a seat.” I gesture towards the warm brown leather couch.

She settles onto the cushions, her expression guarded. “I understand. You feel like you lost control, and now, you regret having sex with me. So, tell me, why am I here?”

“You’re here because I’ve never had a rendezvous in a bathroom that wasn’t my own,” I admit candidly, my voice tinged with a hint of regret.

Her eyes widen in surprise before she responds, “And you think I have?”

“I see you as a free spirit,” I reply, studying her carefully. “Someone who takes risks and follows her desires without hesitation.”

She nods thoughtfully, grabbing the glass of wine and taking a sip. A subtle grin tugs at my lips as I watch her reaction.

“I mean that as a compliment.”

“Is that what this was for you—a daring adventure?” Her question hangs in the air, and she seems to be offended.

Inching closer to her, I cover her hand with mine. “Honestly, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since the day we met. But tonight is the first time I’ve felt alive.”

A line crinkles between her brows as my thumb rubs over her skin.

“Cameron, have you ever had anything happen in your life that changed the way you went through life? Something that was so devastating, you forgot how to live?”

My throat swells, thinking about the day I lost my fiancée.

She swallows hard. “I have,” she says, and she expels a heavy sigh. “My grandfather died on a fishing boat while I was with him—alone.”

“Fuck. How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

“So that’s why you chose your career.” I pull her to my side, and she lays her head on my shoulder. All of her anger at me is replaced with sadness.

We sit for a long time before she gets up to look out the window. “It’s beautiful here. The water reflects the aqua and pink signs from the clubs and businesses. Do you have a place on the water too?”

“I don’t.” I press the button that opens the sliding glass doors that retreat inside the walls, awarding us the much-needed fresh air. She steps onto the balcony, resting her elbows on the wrought-iron railing. “This is as close as I could get.”

Cameron rotates towards me. “What do you mean?”

My hand hovers over the ends of her hair before gently pulling the ends. When I release them, the shiny strands snap back into place.

“You know I was engaged. What you don’t know is five years ago, she passed away.” Her hands fly over her mouth. “It’s… the worst thing I’ve ever been through.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her hand caresses my forearm.

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