Don’t ask me why jealousy burns through my veins. I have no claim to this woman, but even a man with a black heart can’t miss the signs of covetousness.
A squeak escapes the stranger’s fuckable lips when I can’t restrain my overbearing nature a second longer. “With whom?”
“Um...” Her I-don’t-answer-to-you expression causes my cock to have an impromptu meeting with my zipper for the second time this afternoon. “With work. I’m rostered for an afternoon shift.”
Her reply doesn’t ease my jealousy, but I play it cool. Barely. “Can I give you a ride?” Camille jumps up, slips her left hand into mine, then reaffirms her grip on the stranger’s hand, reconnecting us. Her clutch proves she isn’t picking the stranger over me—she wants both of our support. “It’s the least we can do since you stayed for Camille’s appointment.”
I can tell without looking at Camille that she’s silently begging. I can feel it.
Although my daughter is giving the stranger every face that’s had my brothers eating out of her palm for six months, she seems immune. “That isn’t necessary. It’s only a short walk from here.”
She’s a terrible liar, but I let it slide for now. I have more urgent priorities, like making sure my daughter knows her every want, need, and dream will always come before mine, before I address my disdain for liars.
“The shift that starts in”—I check my watch before adding with authority—“one hour and thirty-three minutes. If your workplace is within walking distance, as you said, it gives you plenty of time to accompany us to the sweets store.”
As excitement bursts across Camille’s face, the blonde’s eyes lift to mine. Her stare isn’t out of desperation, more caution. Mindful that the forests surrounding this city are full of wolves, she is suddenly aware she’s being targeted by one.
I smirk, pleased to uphold her belief that I’m a tyrant. Her snarl almost matches mine in viciousness. She isn’t afraid of me—only terrified of getting tangled in something she doesn’t understand.
Smart woman.
I didn’t solely change my business operations when Camille entered my life. I changed myself. Not necessarily because I wanted to, but more that I had to.
Before Camille, I was emotionally detached. I cut through problems without hesitation. I didn’t negotiate or soften, and I certainly didn’t bend for anyone. The day she arrived at my doorstep on her mother’s hip instead of in her stomach, the coldness inside me thawed. Did I suddenly gain a conscience or a heart? I honestly don’t know. But whatever the fuck it was, it changed everything.
I remain ruthless and ambitious. Some might even say perilous, but now all my efforts center on what’s best for Camille. She wants this blonde in her life, so even if my interests weren’t as immediate, I’d still pursue her—for Camille. No personal agenda. I take my promisesseriously. I’ll die before disappointing my daughter. Not granting her every wish would disappoint her.
Camille’s bottom lip quivers as she silently pleads with the blonde. She doesn’t speak, but her begs are loud enough to shake the walls of the dental clinic.
Guilt floods the stranger’s beautiful face. “Sweetheart, I can’t. I…” Her singsong voice trails off as her brain hunts for an excuse.
When she doesn’t find one, her narrowed eyes snap up to mine. Defiance dances in them.
Good. I loathe people who immediately fold.
“I can give you ten minutes, but any more than that is going to cost you. I can’t miss this shift.”
A dark curl fans across my forehead when I dip my chin. “The store is barely a two-minute walk from here.”
When I twist to face the door, her mouth opens, then closes. She gives the impression that she wants to argue, to tell me I have no right to disrupt her schedule. She’s correct, but I don’t play nice when it comes to my wants, so I won’t mention how treacherous they are when it comes to my daughter.
I can’t wait to teach her that. The first lesson will have to wait until we’re not being scrutinized by curious eyes. Camille’s happiness beams out of her in silent waves, and it triples when she tugs the still-unnamed stranger toward the door, afraid she’ll change her mind if given time to think.
When I exit the dentist’s office on their heels, I signal to the driver that his assistance isn’t required before I shadow Camille’s and the blonde’s steps. As Camille leads the blonde stranger down the sidewalk, the stranger continually glances back at me every few steps.
Is she checking whether I’m following or seeking the closest exit?
If my intuition is any indication, it’s most likely the latter.
Her instincts are as in tune as mine, but she keeps walking anyway.
The sweets shop is a block away, and even though Camille has only visited this dentist once before, she knows the way by heart. Sweets are the fastest route to her heart, and her uncles know that as well as I do.
With more gusto than I’ve witnessed previously, Camille pulls the woman into the storefront with a pastel awning and glass jars lined from the floor to the ceiling.
The bell above the entrance jingles when I enter behind them. The air is thick with sugar and nostalgia. Caramel, chocolate, and vanilla blend into a familiar scent.
Camille’s body shakes with excitement as they rush toward the truffles. While eyeballing the candy with a greedy glint brightening her dark eyes, she keeps the blonde glued to her side.