Page 6 of Already At Risk
I cleared my throat. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s fine to call me Natalie.”
“Natalie,” he repeated, emphasizing the name thatwasn’tthe one I’d told him the night we met.
“Youtold me your name was Cam,” I countered, realizing how ridiculously childish I sounded a little too late.
“It’s a nickname,” he said in a deadpan. “It’s a shortened version of my name. And you’re welcome to call me that or Cameron, either one.”
I sighed, feeling like I owed him an explanation and hating that I felt that way. But I didn’t want this client-lawyer relationship to have a rocky start. Well,moreof a rocky start, anyway.
“I’ve learned from my mistakes, and I don’t give things away freely anymore. Not even my name, if I don’t feel like giving it,” I said. The intensity of Cameron’s eye contact unnerved me slightly, so I looked around the room instead, taking in the certificates on the wall, the photographs of his family on the bookshelf, and the orderly way he aligned his pens on his desk, like they were silverware beside a dinner plate.
Cameron huffed a laugh. “And you shouldn’t.”
I frowned and looked back at him. “I apologize if you feel I deceived you or led you on, but?—”
“No, that’s not it at all,” he interrupted, shaking his head.
“For the purpose of the case, I just don’t want you to think that I’m always like that,” I explained.
“Like what?”
“Like the kind of mom who regularly spends the night away from her daughter, going to bars, getting drunk, pretending I’m someone else, and dancing with strangers.”
The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Ah, so you admit there were drinksanddancing.”
I pursed my lips. “That is not the point here.”
There were drinks and dancing and his hands in my hair, but that wasn’tme. I’d wanted it to be me, wanted to be ready for it to be me, but I wasn’t quite there yet.
“I don’t think that,” Cameron said with a sigh. “Trust me, Natalie. It could not have been more obvious that you don’t normally do that.”
“Right.”
I flushed, heat once again rising to my face. Of course it was obvious that I was inexperienced and out of practice. I knew thatwasn’t exactly my fault, but still. It didn’t feel like great encouragement, considering I’d been contemplating all day whether I should accept a date with some guy I matched with online.Joshhad been pestering me for over a week. And like I said, I reallywantedto try the dating scene again, longed to be ready for it. I didn’t need men to make my life into a fuller version than it was because Chloe and I—we were happy. But I wouldn’t mind dipping my toes back in the water.
To make matters worse, Cameron seemed to have clocked my embarrassment, a sympathetic expression overcoming his handsome features.
“Natalie—”
“So, what are the next steps?” I interrupted. “For the case.”
Cameron mulled over his response for a moment, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he assessed me. I had no idea what he was looking for, but eventually, he came to some sort of internal decision. He stood, walked around to the other side of the desk, and leaned back against it.
“When you originally reached out, you mentioned that Mr. Abrams has been sending you emails with some of his demands,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that made it very hard not to look at the way his crisp, tan suit stretched across the muscles in his upper arms.
I nodded, unable to talk as I looked up at him. He felt larger than life, taller than Noah or Blake. And without his desk between us, I felt like another layer of my defense had been stripped away.
“Can you send them to me?”
“Of course.” I scrambled to get my phone out, opening my email and?—
“Oh my God.”
The room filled with the sound of a woman’s moan, followed by a man’s grunt, and then a high-pitched whine. And panting, there was panting, too. Right before the distinct slapping of two people’s bodies while—yep, you guessed it—fucking.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
“Oh my God,” I echoed in a gasp, but it was anything but sexy. Terrified would be more accurate. Humiliated.Again.
