Camden (The Casanova Club Book 13) Read online

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “No dice.”

  Bradley nodded knowingly. “Well, that’s no real surprise. You figured he’d say no, right? Maybe it’s meant to be. I mean, last year after you met the girl, you came back here and told me you thought she was a real catch. That couldn’t have changed that much. A catch is a catch.”

  I shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not that. She is a catch.”

  “But?”

  “But,” I said, turning toward him and going to my liquor cabinet on the opposite wall of the windows. I pulled the cap off a bottle of bourbon a client had given me for Christmas. He’d beat everyone else to the punch. Soon, my office would be bombarded with gift baskets and bottles of expensive liquor. “She’s already spent the year with eleven other men. When I started this, I had no intention of being the last guy in a long lineup of greedy motherfuckers.”

  “Well, that part was out of your control.”

  “Yes, it was. They’ve all had their time with her. Who knows how they spent their time. And at the risk of being crude, I don’t want to be the last one in through the door. Know what I mean?”

  “This isn’t high school,” Bradley said flatly.

  “Apparently not. If it were, I wouldn’t be contractually obligated to see this shit through.” I took a sip of bourbon. The sweetness lingered on my tongue, and my throat and stomach grew warm after I swallowed. I took another sip before holding up the bottle and another glass for Bradley. “Drink?”

  “Sure.”

  I poured him one. Then I took up my seat across from him at my desk. We both sat in comfortable silence, lapping at the edge of our glasses. I didn’t know where his mind went in quiet moments like this, but mine lingered on Piper James.

  I remembered how stricken I’d been with her when I first saw her.

  The leather pants. I’d never forget them. Every other girl had walked in wearing fancy cocktail dresses in shades of blues, pinks, and purples, and here came this girl in sky-high heels, black leggings, and a black crop top. She’d been brimming over with confidence and a sexy attitude, and she’d had me eating out of the palm of her hand all night without ever realizing it.

  Perhaps that was part of her charm, too.

  She was shamelessly unaware of how beautiful she was.

  I wasn’t the only man who’d been taken by her. All the others seemed just as enamored as I was, especially the stiff competition like Wyatt and fucking Levi. She’d had her time with them. There was no telling what kind of connection they’d forged. If I knew one thing for certain, it was that both men had a lot to offer—a lot of time, specifically.

  And they’d caught her earlier than I had. If she’d already found something in them, why would she waste her time trying to get to know me? And the fact that she would be here over the holidays?

  It was shitty timing all around.

  “It’s not going to be that bad, man,” Bradley said. I stared at him over the rim of my glass as he continued. “I mean, what’s the worst-case scenario here? You get to spend all month with a pretty girl? It’s not such a bad deal from where I’m standing.”

  “Worst-case scenario is she cuts into precious hours I need to spend here at work. Worst-case scenario is we lose money because of it. I don’t like being spread too thin, and year end is the most crucial time of year for us.”

  “I know all of this, Cam. You’re talking like you’re in it alone. I’ll be here up until the twenty-second. We can handle it.”

  “I’ve lost interest. That’s all.”

  That wasn’t untrue. I hadn’t lost interest. I felt there was nothing in it for me to waste my time pursuing a woman who had undoubtedly already fallen in love with someone else. At this point, it would all be a charade, and I’d be the dumbass standing there with my cock in my hand trying to make something out of the two of us while she daydreamed about some other fucker who’d already swept her off her feet months ago.

  I refused to be that guy.

  The least I could do was maintain my dignity and get through the month. Piper would just have to respect that. Maybe she could just consider it a vacation.

  “Are you going to bring her to the office Christmas party?” Bradley asked.

  “I hadn’t considered it. Probably not.”

  “You have to make an appearance, Cam. We owe it to the employees. They’ll want to see us there regardless of how much you hate the holidays.”

  “Fine. I’ll be there. But no promises on her accompanying me.”

  “It could be fun.”

  “Don’t push it,” I said.

  Bradley chuckled and held both hands up, the fingers of one wrapped around his glass. “All right. All right. I’ll leave it alone. Just let me say one thing: if you expect this to go badly, chances are it will. But if you give it a bit of room to breathe, I don’t know, you might be pleasantly surprised. You’re a good guy, Cam. You have a lot to offer. There’s no reason to assume this thing is over before it’s even begun.”

  “Are you done?”

  Bradley laughed. “Yes, I’m done.”

  “Thank God.” I stood up and fixed myself another drink. Bradley refused my offer to refill his glass on account of having to drive home.

  He proceeded to tell me he was taking his kids and his wife out to find the perfect Christmas tree. “We’ve never had the real thing before. Melissa thinks this is a good year to give it a go. You know, before life gets in the way. Or before we get a dog. Fuck man. My kids won’t stop asking me for a dog.”

  “So get them a dog.”

  “That’s not how it works.”

  “Why not?”

  “You can’t just give kids something because they want it.”

  I arched an eyebrow.

  Bradley waved me off. “Never mind. It’s out of your wheelhouse. I started telling you this so I could thank you for staying late for me tonight. Melissa says thank you, too. She’s a stickler for putting the tree up on the first.”

  “No problem.” Christmas meant nothing to me. It was easy to sacrifice a night in December for my partner to spend time with his family and bring joy to them. Very easy.

  “You should swing by for dinner sometime this month. Melissa does a lot of cooking and baking in December. And you know how good of a cook she is.”

  “I’m all right, Bradley.”

  “There’s always room for one more at our Christmas dinner too if you’d like to—”

  “Bradley,” I said firmly, “I’m all right.”

  He nodded and stared down into his drink. “Right. Of course.”

  Chapter 3

  Piper

  I never got the name of the driver who dropped me off in front of The Laurient, New York City’s most luxurious high rise. Whatever-his-name-was unloaded my bag from the trunk, came up around the side of the car, and handed my suitcase off to me before tipping the narrow brim of his hat in a polite but rushed farewell.

  “Thank you,” I called after him as he raced around the hood of the car, slid behind the wheel, and pulled out into traffic, either oblivious or uncaring of the people he cut off who laid on their horns.

  Fastening the button of my coat at my throat to ward off the winter chill, I returned my attention to The Laurient.

  It soared up to the sky which was heavy with clouds about to let loose with flurries of snow. Camden lived in the penthouse, of course, and I wondered dimly if I’d be looking out at clouds and if I’d be able to even see the city at all.

  I hoped not.

  He’d have the best view of New York. Especially at Christmas time. I could picture it in my mind’s eye now as I stood down below, marveling at the Gothic Revival architectural style. It wasn’t an old building, but it looked like one with its intricate detailing and dramatic spires, which speared the sky like defiant swords.

  I was procrastinating, dragging my feet.

  I didn’t want to go up there. I didn’t want to perform the necessary steps that I knew
were to follow in moving in with the final bachelor of the year. Awkward greetings. An uncomfortable start. Forced dates to get to know one another. And then, hopefully, nothing would be as it was with the other men. I didn’t want to fall for Camden. I’d be happy if we could just be friends. Roommates for the month.

  Although I would make for a horrible roommate who didn’t pay rent. I could only imagine the monthly cost of living in a place like this. And Camden wasn’t renting. He owned the beast. In fact, he owned the entire building. At least, that was what his bio had said when I first started this process.

  The man had money. Serious money.

  So did the others. But this was different. Camden didn’t make his money on a ranch or touring the country, pouring his heart and soul into his music. No, he’d started the city’s most reputable wealth management company, and it had made him the third richest man in the state.

  He was also significantly older than I was, which gave me pause.

  When we’d met at the Casanova Club last December, he’d been very warm and kind. I recalled him asking me if I was all right after I got off a tense phone call with my mother who wanted me to return to the restaurant to help out.

  That seemed like it was such a long time ago now. Another lifetime.

  He’d sat with me at dinner. Asked me questions. Listened intently. Expressed genuine interest. I never had the sense that I bored him, but as I stood there looking up at the behemoth of a tower he lived in, I found myself feeling very small.

  What did I have to offer a man of this caliber?

  I set my jaw.

  This month would be easy. He wasn’t going to be interested in me, and we weren’t going to have much in common. Sure, at the beginning, it had probably seemed like a good idea, but now, it just didn’t make sense.

  It was a calming thought to hold onto as I made my way toward the entrance. The front doors were frosted glass and inlaid with wrought-iron vines snaking across the surface in spiraling patterns. They were beautiful and soared at least five feet over my head.

  When I stepped up to open them, they swung open from the inside, and the doorman held them open for me. He was dressed in a white dress shirt, red vest, and black pants. He tipped his head to me. “Welcome to The Laurient. May I take your bag, miss?”

  I relinquished my luggage to him and read his nametag. “Thank you, Daniel.”

  “My pleasure, miss. I presume you are Mr. Wood’s guest?”

  I nodded and shuffled inside as a cold wind snapped at my back. “Yes. My name is Piper James. Please, call me Piper.”

  Daniel smiled broadly. He had a charming way about him. I guessed he was in his late twenties or early thirties. He held himself with poise, was clean-shaven, and had a warm, welcoming presence. I supposed that was his job.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Piper. We’ve been expecting you. Come. Let me see you up to Mr. Wood’s suite.”

  Daniel turned around and began crossing the lobby. I hurried after him, his much longer legs making shorter work of the rich copper-colored marble floor beneath our feet. It was streaked with gold and flakes of shimmering orange, and the light from the grand chandeliers above danced across the floor. I marveled at the beauty of it before managing to lift my head and gaze around at the other splendors the Laurient had to offer.

  “Wow,” I breathed, stopping in my tracks.

  Straight ahead was a grand staircase leading up to a second level with a wraparound balcony. Up on that balcony was something that appeared to be a massive cocktail lounge set against a backdrop of arched windows framed in dark wood. It was presently empty, which made sense at three o’clock in the afternoon. On the other side of the balcony were front doors to other units.

  But that wasn’t what caught my eye.

  The grand staircase broke in the middle for a landing that was approximately thirty feet or so deep. Right in the middle of the landing was a glorious Christmas tree. It soared upward, the star upon its point competing for attention against the grand chandelier that hung directly above. Twinkling garland lined banisters and the railings around the balcony. A red tree skirt gave depth to the scene, and crystal ornaments winked upon the branches as the white lights in the tree blinked softly.

  “The Laurient takes Christmas very seriously.” Daniel cocked his head to one side. “After seeing it every day, you tend to lose perspective and forget how beautiful it is. And it is quite beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to come and stare at it as much as you’d like while you’re here,” he joked.

  Daniel led me up the stairs. There was so much to see that I found myself trailing behind. It felt as if I’d stepped into a gothic church somewhere in Europe. Spain, perhaps. The building had that luxurious but edgy feel to it. Old money and older taste. But it was quite literally the most beautiful building I’d ever seen.

  At the top of the stairs, we stepped onto one of the six elevators. We took the one in the middle. As the doors closed behind us, Daniel slid a key into a slot on the elevator panel. Then he gave me a sheepish smile. “This elevator is the only one that goes to the top three floors. It skips all the others. So any time you’re trying to go up, you take this one. You’ll need a key like this one. Mr. Wood has left one in the suite for you, I believe.”

  “Okay.”

  “Once you use your key, the elevator will take you directly to Mr. Wood’s suite.”

  “Okay,” I said again.

  The elevator climbed. I’d never been on one so long. Then again, I’d never gone to such a high floor either. Sixty stories. Eight hundred feet high. As we rode upward, I wondered what kind of suite Camden Wood would have.

  Would it be as rich and elegant as the rest of the building? Or would his own taste reign supreme in his quarters?

  It didn’t matter, I supposed. None of it did.

  The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Daniel stepped off first. He gestured for me to follow him out onto the landing, which I did, and then the doors closed and I basked in the warmth of Camden’s home.

  It was kind of like the rest of the building, except his home had a hell of a lot more character. The landing was a pretty plain space in front of the elevator. We descended a set of six stairs to the main level of the suite, and my heels struck dark-green marble floors. Like downstairs, they were flaked with gold. The walls were covered in old paintings set in dramatic dark frames. I knew nothing of art, but I imagined Joshua walking into a place like this and stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of all the pictures. There was no doubt in my mind that each one was an original and probably carried a hefty price tag.

  A plush red carpet ran down the hall from the landing to a grand archway. We stepped through.

  The main living areas of the penthouse were open concept. Deep-brown leather sofas were spread out across a Turkish carpet in rich tones of reds, greens, golds, and blue. The colors were picked up in accented décor, and it was like I was standing in a museum of some sort. A very comfortable museum that smelled like sage and citrus.

  “This is incredible,” I said.

  Daniel had dragged my suitcase over to a set of stairs on the far side of the living room I hadn’t even noticed. “It is indeed. Mr. Wood has excellent taste. You wouldn’t believe how many movie companies come asking to film in his home. It’s staggering. He turns them all down, of course. Mr. Wood does not like to be inconvenienced.”

  “Fair enough. I wouldn’t imagine a man of his standing would ever need to be inconvenienced.”

  “An astute observation.” Daniel chuckled. “He told me he would be home a little late this evening, but he invites you to explore his home. Nothing is off-limits. He wants you to feel at home here. And speaking of observation, it might please you to know that there is a four hundred square foot open-air observatory on the fifth floor.”

  I blinked.

  Where did I start with that statement?

  For sta
rters, the words open-air observatory left something to be desired, but my brain was rattled by the mention of the fifth floor. I eyed him suspiciously. “Did you say fifth floor?”

  Daniel nodded eagerly. “Sure did. This place is much bigger than the standard penthouse, Miss James. Five floors. Nine thousand and fifty square feet. Wine cellar. Fitness room. Spa—”

  “Spa?”

  Daniel winked. “Yes, ma’am. Complete with a hydro-massage bed, float tank, Jacuzzis, and, if you need it, a personal attendant on call.”

  “Jesus,” I breathed.

  “Oh, and a steam and sauna room, naturally.”

  “Naturally,” I said with an air of mock sophistication.

  Daniel began making his way up the dark-iron staircase to the second floor, toting my bag along behind him. “The wine cellar is around the corner there. Through that door.” He tipped his chin toward a door that reminded me very much of a smaller version of the front doors to the Laurient. “Mr. Wood said you can help yourself to any bottle you desire. Minus the ones in the glass case.”

  “Glass case. Got it. Let me guess. They cost more than I’d be able to sell my harvested organs for?”

  Daniel laughed as he reached the top of the stairs. “Yes, ma’am.” He disappeared through another grand archway at the top of the stairs, and I stood in the middle of the grand penthouse, breathing in the scent of sage, citrus, and a hint of clove. It smelled like a rich man. All that was missing was the lingering burn of cigars.

  And the man.

  Chapter 4

  Camden

  The Christmas tree on the landing of the stairs in The Laurient lobby taunted me as I moved around its red-velvet tree skirt and took the second half of the staircase two steps at a time. Christmas music was playing, but it wasn’t the obnoxious traditional songs that flooded retail stores at this time of year. It was a soft acoustic version of said songs played with harps and jingle bells. Presently, it was a version of “O Holy Night,” and I hated it less than I’d hated every song pouring through my stereo on my drive home.