Page 60 of Tempting Frankie
“Speaking of exceeding expectations,” he drawls, “how's the Infinity app treating you these days? Still getting plenty of bookings?”
I freeze, my blood turning to ice in my veins. How the fuck does he know about that?
“I don't know what you're talking about,” I say, but my voice wavers, betraying me.
Cameron's grin is predatory. “Oh, come on, Frankie. Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you. I know all about your little job. Tell me, does my dad know he's just another John to you?”
I feel like I'm going to be sick. The room spins around me, faces blurring into a sea of judgment and disdain. I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out.
“What's the matter?” Cameron taunts. “Cat got your tongue. Or are you just calculating how much you can charge me for old time's sake?”
“That's none of your fucking business,” I hiss, glancing around frantically to make sure no one's overheard. “What do you want, Cam?”
His smirk widens, and I realize with dawning horror that this is exactly what he wanted. To get under my skin. To make me squirm.
Cameron's words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Oh, I don't want anything,” he drawls, “except for you to fuck off and to cause you and my father pain. I can feel myself getting a chubby from it already.”
I recoil, bile rising in my throat. The champagne churns in my stomach as disgust and fury war for dominance. My hands shake as I clench them into fists, nails digging crescents into my palms.
“You're fucking sick,” I spit, fighting to keep my voice low. The glittering crowd swirls around us, oblivious to the venom being spewed. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Cameron's eyes glitter with malice as he leans in closer, his breath hot and sour against my cheek. “I get bored easily,” he drawls. “Chalk it up to my daddy issues.” His gaze rakes over me once more, lingering on the curves I've spent years learning to love. “Have a good fucking night, chubby Chessie.”
I swallow hard, choking back the tears that threaten to spill over. Fuck Cameron. Fuck him and his cruel words and his pathetic attempts to get under my skin. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
With shaking hands, I smooth down my dress and take a deep breath. The room spins slightly as I make my way across the glittering expanse of marble floor.
I focus on Alexander, willing my legs to carry me to him without buckling. He's deep in conversation with some silver-haired man in an impeccably tailored tuxedo, but the moment he catches sight of me, his brow furrows with concern.
“If you'll excuse me,” he says smoothly, cutting off whatever the other man was saying mid-sentence. In two long strides, he's at my side, his hand warm and steady on the small of my back.
“Francesca?” he murmurs, ducking his head to meet my eyes. “What's wrong?”
I lean into him, drinking in the familiar scent of his cologne. It grounds me. “Can we leave?” I whisper, hating how small and pathetic my voice sounds. “Please?”
Alexander's jaw tightens, his eyes scanning the room. “Did something happen?”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. If I open my mouth, I might scream or burst into tears or both. Neither option seems particularly appealing in a room full of sharks circling for blood.
“Okay,” he says softly, pulling me closer before guiding right out of this cesspool of assholes.
Chapter 21
Alexander
Iwatch Francesca as she steps into my office, her usual sass dimmed. She's been withdrawn for days, and it's killing me not knowing why. Every protective instinct in my body screams at me to demand answers, to fix whatever's hurting her. But I know that approach will only push her further away and I’m too fucking old to be flying off the handle.
“Alexander?” Her voice is soft, hesitant. “Do you have a minute?”
“For you? Always.” I gesture to the chair across from my desk, but she remains standing, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. All I want to do is push my own chair back and have her sit in my lap, but I respect her work boundaries…for now.
“I was wondering...” She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “Would it be okay if I took a few days off? To go stay with Kat?”
The request shouldn't surprise me, but it does. A thousand questions race through my mind. Why now? What's wrong? Is she running from me? I’m desperate to pull her into my arms, to make her tell me everything. Instead, I force myself to lean back in my chair, keeping my tone carefully neutral.
“Of course,” I say, even as anxiety gnaws at my gut. “Is everything alright?”
Francesca's eyes dart around the room, refusing to meet mine. “Yeah, I just…I need some sister time, you know?”
