The Billionaire's CamGirl

My stomach lurches and all I want to do is get away from him. I won’t leave him behind in Chris’s room, though. “Mutual friends from Paris,” I say curtly.

“And where exactly was it that you said you worked?” He’s staring out the window so he can’t see my impatience, but I don’t think he’d pick up on the body language anyway. How many hints does this asshole need?

“I’d love to chat, but I have someplace I need to be. If you don’t mind…” I cough, and that gets his attention. When he turns to me, I sweep my hand out toward the hallway. “Please?”

“I’ve gotta run, too. If Chris left twenty minutes ago, I guess that means I’m late.” He finally walks out the door and I follow him, closing the door and double checking that it locked automatically behind me. But shit, we head in the same direction, toward the elevators, and even though I’m cutting it close now to meet Kate, I am not getting in an elevator with Ryan. The guy gives me the creeps. So as soon as the elevator arrives, I pretend I’ve left something in the room and scoot back down the hall. Luckily, he doesn’t insist on waiting for me, so when I hear the elevator doors close, I head back and hit the call button.

I can’t tell if I’m being paranoid or not, but Chris’s brother seems to have it in for me.

13

Chris

I barely participate in that meeting at all. A few smartly placed nods and comments hide the fact that my mind is elsewhere. At the Plaza Hotel, imagining Weaver waiting for me naked in my bed. I meant what I told her this morning; this is just the beginning. I promised myself that if she accepted me, that if she wanted me, I would make her my first priority. A woman like her doesn’t come around often, and after I thought I lost her once, I’m not going to let that happen again. I can’t change my life completely; I’ll still need to travel a lot, but I have enough flexibility and money that I plan to devote myself to making Weaver the happiest she’s ever been.

“You seem like you’re pleased with how that went.” It’s my mother. This meeting was the final one before we sign the papers to officially become silent partners in this advertising agency. It’s a match made in corporate heaven. They need money for an international expansion and we now have an agency in our portfolio to handle our PR.

“It’s a solid partnership, Mom. I was confident in all the details before this meeting. I don’t know why we had to have another with all three of us here today,” I say, gesturing toward Ryan who’s outside the conference room, leaning over the receptionist’s desk and leering at her.

“Well we just wanted to be sure this went off without a hitch. A show of family unity, even if you can’t stand your brother,” she says. “So how have you been? It’s been months since we’ve really talked.”

“Here, Mom?” I say, indicating the generic conference room we’re sitting in. “You want to catch up now?”

“No time like the present. Dad told me you called him a week ago, asking about the Fifth Avenue apartment, wondering if you could move in, make it your home base. Are you sick of London suddenly?”

“I’m looking for a change, that’s all. And with this new deal, it would make sense for me to be close by,” I say, not revealing my real intentions. To be close to Weaver.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” she says, but quickly adds, “Just run it by your grandfather. You’ll see him this week. He’s called me this morning and requested you go see him in Paris as soon as possible.”

“No,” I shoot back without hesitation. “That won’t work for me. Send Ryan.”

“He was adamant that it be you, Chris. You don’t have any choice here,” she says, leaving no room for arguing. “Don’t forget, you work for him. Without him, you wouldn’t have these opportunities to jet around the world and dip into a very deep trust fund. To change cities like most men change underwear.”

“What good is any of it if my life is dictated by the old man’s whims?” I ask, frustrated that I’ll need to leave Weaver much sooner than I thought. “The last time I dropped everything to see him it was to approve a new paper stock for his business cards.”

“If you’re worried about leaving your sidepiece behind, bring her with you,” Ryan adds helpfully, walking into the conference room.

“Sidepiece?” My mother’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. Ryan’s caught her attention. “First of all, Ryan, don’t be crude. Second of all,” she says, turning toward me, “do you have a girlfriend?”