Page 191 of 7+Us Makes Nine

I froze, staring at one spot on my sheets as I processed what the hell she had just said to me.

“Hell, no. I won’t do that.”

“Don’t push this. We can’t have it any other way. If you stay in contact with her, all this damage control would be useless. You need to stop seeing her for this to work. Remember that this is your career we’re talking about. Do you seriously want to risk everything you’ve worked on so hard because of one woman? If you continue seeing her, your party won’t take this so lightly, and there will be much worse consequences. Think about the incoming elections.”

I closed my eyes, the headache forming in the back of my head. This was so messed up, and I hated being cornered like this. Just when I thought everything was going well, this happened, and I was left with no choices. I didn’t want to lose Camilla, but how could I fix this? I was forced to choose between her and my career, and it was an impossible choice.

Then again, if she was the one who had sold the story to that tabloid… Once more, anger rose in me, and I fought against the anxiety that grew stronger in me. If she’d done that, I wouldn’t be able to forgive her. I needed to talk with her to know the truth.

“Okay, Marissa. I get your message loud and clear. At least, let me think about it, okay? In the meantime, make that fucking statement and organize everything.”

“I know my job, so don’t worry about my part. I’ll call you later.”

“Fine. Bye.”

I ended the call and dialed Camilla’s number right away, jumping to my feet. I was pacing around my room as one ring followed another and another…

She didn’t answer. I called her again and then again, and when the answering machine filled the line, I ended the call and threw the phone on my bed.

“Damn it! Camilla, what are you doing? Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

This could mean only one thing.

She had actually sold the story to the tabloid. There was no other explanation.

I sat down on my bed and buried my head into my hands, devastated. We had been really starting to get somewhere, but I guessed that it had all been an illusion. She’d never liked me. Hell, she had probably made all that fuss about playing safe only so she could have me running after her like a fool. She had acted disinterested to attract me. To make me crazy about her, wrapped around her little finger.

She had been using me from the start. She had used me to find her a job, and now she was using me so she could climb up her career ladder. She was clever, I had to hand it to her. Maybe Carter was even in on it. He had pushed me to chase after her. Damn, you think you know people.

And I was such a fool. She didn’t feel anything for me. Instead, she was this conniving fox who waited for the right moment to strike and get what she wanted.

But she was wrong if she thought I would let her get away with this just like that. I would confront her and hear the whole truth. And then I would make sure to stay the hell away from her. For good.

18

Camilla

I was making coffee for the office, wondering how I could have forgotten my cell phone at home. There were two things I always, absolutely always, carried around with me, and those were my wallet and my cell phone.

But this morning I slept in and I had to rush out of my place so I wouldn’t be late for work. I almost went out with a mismatched jacket and skirt, having dressed in a hurry. I was so lucky to arrive here before my shift started.

“I’m dying for that coffee right now,” Megan whined behind me, typing something furiously on the keyboard. She had been talking about the coffee for the past half an hour, until I caved in and decided to make it. “I feel like I’m going to fall asleep any moment.”

“I feel ya,” our colleague, Ben, added. “I stayed up too late. I was playing Counter Strike.”

“You and your games,” Megan told him. “How old are you, again? Thirty-five? And you’re still playing games? No wonder you don’t have a wife.”

He flashed her his grin. “Who needs a wife when I can spend all my time on my computer? Games are way better than women. And they are way less demanding.”

“Amen to that,” Joshua, our other coworker, said. “I had an argument with my wife last night and she made me sleep on the couch.”

“Did you, really?” Megan asked him. “Sleep on the couch?”

Joshua blushed, looking sideways. “Yeah.”

“You’re crazy,” Ben told him. “If I had a wife, I would never let her treat me like that.”

“Well, you don’t have a wife, so don’t act like you’re a know-it-all,” Megan rebuked him. “Each marriage is different, so don’t judge them that easily.”

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