Page 33

Cameron

“ H ow do I look?” I asked, twirling in a small circle in the living room.

Gael shrugged and made a disgusted face. “Your boobs are hanging out. Gross.”

Heat rose to my cheeks as I looked down. There was cleavage, but it wasn’t like I was dressed like a stripper.

“My boobs are not hanging out. This is… it’s classy.”

Rick had had the dress delivered to the office that afternoon. He’d apparently picked it especially for this evening. It wasn’t my usual style, but it was very nice, and obviously very expensive. The gift made me more uneasy than ever, but my guilt at how I’d dumped him overrode my worries.

One more night, and this would be over. I wouldn’t flirt or allow Rick to flirt. If all went well, he’d get it into his head that things were over, and maybe we could be friends after some time had passed. Rick was a nice guy, after all. Just not compatible as a boyfriend. Not with me at least.

The dark crimson satin hugged my curves.

A single decorative strap ran up and around my neck with fake diamonds adorning it, and a ruffle ran down the left side.

The hem came only to mid-thigh, shorter than I was used to or would have liked, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I might even keep the dress for some other occasion in the future.

“I guess,” Gael said. “Other than the boob thing, it looks good. Can I go play Super Mario 2? I downloaded it for my emulation program, and I want to start practicing speed runs. The world record is eight minutes and eleven seconds. Can you believe that?” He said it all in a rush with wide, excited eyes.

“I honestly don’t know what any of that means,” I said. “You’re going next door, so you’ll need to take it with you.”

Gael rolled his eyes. “Do I have to stay with Maggie? Her apartment smells like cats, and she doesn’t even have cats.”

“She’s the only one Mom and I trust to watch you,” I said. “It’ll only be for three or four hours until Mom gets home.”

“Fine.”

Gael leaped off his chair and rushed to his room to get his laptop. Once he was gone, I put my hands on my boobs, lifting and adjusting them. Were they falling out? Now I was self-conscious. I should never have asked an eleven-year-old boy his opinion on a cocktail dress.

He came back with his backpack, and I quickly walked him to the neighbor’s apartment next door and thanked Maggie for watching him. The apartment was eerily quiet when I got back.

My nerves had been shot all day, and I’d barely gotten any work done due to thinking about dealing with Rick at the gala tonight.

Making sure he understood we weren’t getting back together while still having a good time would be a delicate balancing act.

I’d also been so damn distracted because I couldn’t stop thinking about that outlandish little tryst with Nate in my bathroom. The shock of that still ate at me.

I did not hook up with strangers.

All of this did nothing to help the headaches and nausea.

Though, I’d finally managed to find a cocktail of antacids, stomach meds, and ginger extract cough drops that kept the nausea at bay, and I’d basically gotten used to the thudding headache at this point.

I was ready to meet Rick’s parents. There was still the possibility I’d make a fool of myself, but that fear was much less than it had been a couple days prior.

If I made a fool of myself, then so be it.

I no longer had to worry about them being my future in-laws, so who cared?

A knock at the door made me jump. I peered through the peephole. An older man in a crisp black suit stood outside. That wasn’t Rick. It was also, obviously, not the crazy guy who’d attacked me. Even then, I wasn’t sure I wanted to open the door to a stranger. Not after all that had happened.

“Yes?” I asked, calling through the door.

“Good evening. Ms. Torres? Cameron Torres?” the man asked with a practiced smile, addressing the peephole.

“Uh. Yeah. Can I help you? I’m expecting someone any minute.” I added the last part on instinct. If this guy was some weirdo, it was better that he knew I was expecting someone else soon.

He made a little bow of his head. “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Masters is downstairs. I’m your driver for the evening. He sent me up to fetch you.”

A driver for the evening? Wow. All right, then. Fancier than I thought this would be.

I wanted to be sure this wasn’t some elaborate trap of some kind. “Hang on a second,” I called as I rushed to the kitchen window.

Sure enough, a black sedan sat outside. Rick stood in a crisp suit, waiting by the back door.

“Dear God,” I muttered, shaking my head. Maybe this was a mistake.

Hurrying back to the door, I opened it, but left the security chain engaged. The man outside gave me a pleasant smile.

“Uh, let me grab my bag, and I’ll be right out.”

“At your leisure, my lady,” the man said with a nod.

Closing the door, I grabbed my small clutch, reapplied my lipstick quickly, and gave myself one last check in the mirror before stepping out into the hall.

The chauffeur led me downstairs, and I tried not to think about what he might think of the place.

Somehow, walking around in a tight cocktail dress and a personal driver made me realize exactly how rundown the apartment building was.

I cringed as we passed the broken elevator.

Outside, Rick still stood by the sedan. Thankfully, it wasn’t a stretch limo. That would have been way over the top.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said, opening the back door for me.

Beautiful? God, this was not how the evening was supposed to start.

“Hi,” I said. “I didn’t know we were going to have a driver.”

“Only the best,” Rick said. His eyes swept up my legs and across the swell of my chest, a hungry glint in his gaze.

I glared at Rick. “Remember what I said? No funny business? This isn’t a date. I’ll go right back inside if you think this is more than that.”

His face paled, and he tore his gaze from my body. “I’m sorry,” he said, shrugging. “Old habits die hard. I do get it. You are beautiful, though. I’m not saying that to suck up.”

I sighed, wondering for the millionth time if I was making a good decision by doing this.

I was ninety percent sure I wasn’t, but now wasn’t the time to turn back.

Plus, there was a chance I could turn this into a good story.

Maybe during my conversations tonight, I could see if any of the attendees had an opinion or worries about the murders or something.

Grudgingly, I approached the car, ignoring Rick’s offer to help me get in.

The driver had us on our way within a minute.

The neighborhood we lived in looked much more surreal through the tinted windows.

Like another world. A world I would hopefully be leaving behind soon, taking my mother and brother with me.

“Were your mom and Gael home?” Rick asked.

“Mom’s at work. Gael’s there, but he’s with the neighbor. She’ll watch him until Mom gets home at nine.”

The whole ride, I kept waiting for Rick to reach over and put a hand on my thigh or take my hand.

To my relief, he didn’t. Despite my ex-boyfriend sitting beside me in this overpriced sedan, all I could think about was Nate.

As much as I tried, I couldn’t get the thought of him out of my mind.

Part of me wished to see him again, but he hadn’t turned up since leaving the apartment a couple nights ago.

The gala was being held downtown in a hotel event center.

As the sedan pulled up, I watched the spotlights, television crews, and attendees through the window.

I even saw a few of my colleagues from the paper.

It was silly and childish, but I couldn’t help thinking of the embarrassment I’d feel the next time I saw them at work.

Especially when they found out I was no longer dating Rick.

A valet opened the door, and Rick got out first. He offered a hand to help me out. The dress was a tight fit, and as much as I wished differently, I did need his help getting out unless I wanted to flash my underwear at everyone.

It was busier and more crowded than I thought a fundraiser for the local hospital would be—the hospital Mom worked at, ironically.

All of Toronto’s most influential business leaders, moguls, and politicians were here.

I even noticed the star pitcher for the Blue Jays mingling with the mayor near the doors.

Something about this irked me, though. All these rich people here to pat themselves on the back for helping the little people, while the little people like Mom were working their fingers to the bone at the hospital these people were supposedly here to support.

It would have been better if these people volunteered their time there to help.

The juxtaposition of rich and poor was hard for me to look beyond.

As much as I wanted the safety and security of being like these people, as much as I envied their laidback and carefree lives, I still thought it was all a big show.

Money could only do so much. It wasn’t truly Rick’s money I’d envied and desired.

It had been the security that money provided that I craved.

No one here gave a shit about some Hispanic nurse working twelve-hour shifts, or people who were only one emergency expenditure away from missing rent and being homeless.

Had any of these people ever had a boyfriend disappear with all their savings?

Did they ever lose sleep about the financial rug being pulled out from under them?

No. They would hang out here, sip champagne and eat caviar, then bid a shit ton of money on some silent auction and head home to their mansions, telling themselves they made a difference.