Page 65 of Bad for Business
This is probably the fever talking, but all I can think when I look at him is how handsome he is.
His warm brown eyes scan over me quickly, like he’s trying to get a good look at every inch of my face. Because of the darkness of the room and his face only being illuminated by the moonlight, it brings even more attention to his sharp features.
His strong, chiseled jaw.
His straight nose.
His lips that I think about way too often.
He rubs my forehead tenderly, concern written all over his face as he continues to look at me. He’s quiet for what feels like forever. I don’t complain. The feeling of his thumb tracing the curve of my profile over and over feels too good. He doesn’t have to say anything at all if he just keeps doing this all night.
“What do you need from me?” he asks, his voice almost as hoarse as mine. I wonder why. He sounds…worried. Why would he be worried?
I swallow, my eyes finding his. I’m too tired to lie to him—or myself. I’ve been alone all day, and I’m miserable. My entire body hurts, and now that he’s here, his touch a soothing caress against my forehead, I know exactly what I need.
“Stay,” I manage to get out through the hoarseness and dryness of my throat.
It’s dark, and it’s hard to see perfectly, but I swear his entire body relaxes with my words. He stands up and takes one shoe off and then the other.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he answers before lifting the comforter and climbing into bed next to me.
THIRTY-THREE
RYKER
I don’t knowthe last time I’ve ever felt so worried and pissed at the same time. At first, when Camille wouldn’t respond to me, I figured she was busy. Before I left for the meeting in Manhattan, she planned on spending the time while I was gone finding opportunities for me to look good not only to the board but to the media as well.
When it turned to afternoon and she still hadn’t responded, I was pissed. I wanted to tell her how great the meetings were going. I know we’ve been making good progress this summer, but today was the first time where I really felt like I was going to earn the respect of the Davenport Media board. My father looked at me like he was proud of me again.
And the first person I wanted to tell that to was Camille.
Over the last couple of weeks, we’ve settled into an understanding. While I can’t tell her how I feel, the way Jude told me I should, I did decide to stop egging her on so much. I’m not a dick. And the fact that Jude, of all people, thought I was being mean to her bothered me.
It felt like maybe Camille had been waving the white flag recently as well. She was still as bossy as ever, but her insults were few and far between anymore. So when she didn’t respondfor hours, I got pissed. I was trying to focus on being present for the Davenport Media meetings, but I couldn’t stop wondering if she was shutting me out for some reason I didn’t know about.
By the time the board dinner had wrapped up this evening, my anger with her had turned into worry. I knew she was professional above anything else—something that frustrated the hell out of me. She wouldn’t be ignoring me for no reason.
When I asked the staff who’d been at the house for the day if they’d seen Camille, they hadn’t. I considered asking Jude to run over to the house to check on her, but it didn’t feel right.
It felt like I should be the one going back to the Hamptons to see what was going on.
I made a late-night call to our pilot to fly out tonight instead of tomorrow. I had to pay him double his normal rate, but I’m so happy I did.
I slowly lower my body to the bed, trying my best not to jostle her. She immediately nuzzles against my chest and allows me to wrap my arms around her.
I wonder if she can feel the erratic beat of my heart against her cheek. The trip from the small Hamptons airport to the house felt like it took forever. The closer I got to her, the more worried I became.
When I walked through the eerily quiet house, I started to panic. When I opened the door to her room and found her in bed, I was both relieved and even more worried.
Relieved because she was here. She hadn’t left.
Worried because I’d never seen her look so miserable. Even from the doorway of her room, I could tell how weak she was. She could barely lift her head enough to look at me, and the color was completely gone from her face.
My grip on her tightens as I pull her even more against me. She’s hot—too hot. She must have a fever.
I press my lips to her forehead, my hand moving to softly cup her cheek.
“Have you had any medicine?” I ask.
