“I know.” I trusted Emily. And Derek, at least as much as I knew him. But trust didn’t come easily to me, and my ex’s stunt with the sex tape hadn’t done anything to foster my faith in humanity. “That’s not really the point. I already told her I don’t need a bodyguard. And if you say, Cameron, you were attacked in our own parking garage, I swear to god, you’re fired.”
“Cameron, you were attacked in our own parking garage.”
I flicked my wrist, like I was shooing her out. “Pack your shit and go home.”
“Fine, but if you don’t hire me back by morning, I’ll sell all your secrets to the competition.”
“Traitor.”
She shrugged. “You fired me.”
“That’s true. I have only myself to blame.” My eyes flicked to my closed door. “What’s he been doing?”
“Well, he asked for a tour, so I showed him around. He literally wanted to walk up and down every hallway. On every floor. It took forever. He looked in all the restrooms and supply closets, although I have no idea why. Then we went to the food court. I told him about the restaurants we have, but he didn’t seem interested. Or hungry. I got a latte while he wandered around and chatted with people.”
“Was he freaking everyone out?”
“You’d think, considering he looks like a pro wrestler crossed with an action hero. But he was very unobtrusive. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he made himself smaller so people wouldn’t notice him wandering around.”
That was odd. And kind of fascinating. I didn’t want to be intrigued by this man, but I couldn’t help it.
“Where is he now?”
“He went down to the lobby to talk to the security staff. Am I still fired?”
I fake-sighed. “I guess not. I can’t really live without you, so that’s a consideration.”
“As long as you realize it.” She smiled. “Do you want me to send him in when he comes back?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Brandy stood. “Oh, don’t forget—”
My office door swung open, interrupting her, and Bobby Spencer waltzed in like he owned the place.
Theoretically, he could have, if he hadn’t turned out to be an entitled brat who knew nothing about the company his father had founded.
“Cami, babe, how are you?” He was apparently trying to resurrect the Miami Vice look with a turquoise shirt, its collar popped, and linen slacks. He’d even rolled up the sleeves of his white blazer.
I chose to ignore the fact that he’d called me Cami. No one called me Cami. My grandparents—the people who’d raised me—hadn’t called me Cami. Bobby had used that nickname on and off since second grade. But whenever I called him out on it, he just used it more often.
“Knock before you come in, Bobby,” I said. “What was that, Brandy?”
“I was going to say, don’t forget I have to leave early today. Mateo has a dentist appointment.”
“No problem.” I kept my eyes on Brandy while Bobby sat on the edge of my desk. “If you want to leave now and grab lunch with Julio, feel free.”
“Thanks. I’ll see if he’s available,” she said with a smile. Her eyes flicked to Bobby, then back to me. “You also have that really important meeting in a few minutes. You wouldn’t want to be late.”
God bless her. “Right. Thanks, Brandy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“What meeting?” Bobby asked.
With a subtle roll of her eyes, Brandy slipped out.
“Just a meeting. Part of my job.”
“I’m just wondering what’s going on in your life, Cami,” he said. “We don’t talk enough. By the way, do you really just give your employees time off like that? You should dock her pay.”
“Her three-year-old has a dentist appointment. I hardly think that’s cause for disciplinary action.”
“You give them an inch, they’ll take a mile.”
“Says the guy who’s never held a real job.”
He huffed. “I’m an artist-entrepreneur. An artistpreneur. Hey, I like the sound of that. I need to get that on my business card.”