Page 42 of The Good Girl Effect (Salacious Legacy #1)

Camille

M y hands are shaking as I dab concealer on my face.

Behind me, my dark green dress hangs on the back of the door.

The babysitter we hired to watch Bea tonight should be here in about an hour.

She’s a friend of Elizabeth’s who has known Bea since she was born, but I’m still a ball of anxiety over the thought of leaving her.

None of this feels right.

Jack is taking me to the grand reopening of his club tonight. Not as a nanny or as an employee but as his date. Or his sub. Or his…girlfriend? I’m not quite sure.

The past few weeks have been a dream. I sleep in his bed every night. We’ve had more sex in the past two weeks than I’ve had in my entire life. The connection between us feels larger than life, and I know deep in my heart that this is love.

I love him.

It surprised me so much that the man who was once cold and emotionless was hiding someone so warm and loving, but now that I have this glimpse of him, I don’t think I could ever let him go.

But there’s something nagging at me. I’m unable to surrender to this happiness with him, and I can’t tell if I’m just being cautious or paranoid.

Is it the letter hiding in my desk drawer?

Is it the fear that Bea could be caught in the cross fire?

Is it the fear that I’m merely a replacement for Emmaline?

Is it all these things?

I hear his footsteps down the hall as I try to put on my mascara. My shaky hands cause me to smear it all over my brow line. With a huff of frustration, I toss it down on the counter and reach for the tissues to clean it up.

He steps into the bathroom, looking far too handsome in his black pants and a tight black dress shirt. I love the way his broad shoulders fill out the shirt and how the dark colors in his clothes make the green in his eyes burn brighter.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly as he crowds me against the counter.

“Nothing,” I mutter in frustration. “I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

“Nervous for what?” he asks, setting his hand gently on my shoulder.

I let my hands drop as I glare at him in the mirror, my head tilted to the side.

“You have no idea how nerve-racking this is for me. I know it’s your club opening, but you are the owner, and everyone will be looking at you.

And you’re bringing me . A nobody. A plain woman who works for you. An outsider.”

Taking me by the shoulders, he spins me toward him. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious, Jack,” I cry.

“I can see that you’re serious,” he replies, taking the tissue from my hand. “Take a deep breath, little bird.”

I force air into my lungs, but my chest feels tight, and my body won’t relax.

Silently, he uses the tissue to carefully wipe my brow clean. I’m staring into his eyes as he works. There’s something so delicate and hypnotic about it that my shoulders gently melt.

“You are not a nobody,” he says quietly.

“Yes, I am, Jack,” I reply.

He balls up the tissue and tosses it in the trash. Ignoring my argument, he picks up the mascara and unscrews the top.

“Hold still,” he says. Then with steady hands and a relaxed expression, he applies the mascara to my right eye. I can hardly move. There’s something so cool and confident about the way he does this, as if he owns me. As if I’m just a thing for him to dress up and play with.

And oddly…it calms me.

“Look up,” he commands, and I obey.

Crowding so close to me that I can feel his breath on my face, he flicks the brush against my lashes. Then his eyes meet mine, and he seems so stern, almost like he’s mad at me.

“You are not nobody,” he says again, this time with more conviction. “You are Camille Aubert. You are the headstrong, brilliant, compassionate woman I hired. You are mine . Do you understand why?”

My head barely moves back and forth as I shake it. Before answering, he reaches down to the counter and picks up a dark shade of pink lipstick. He pulls off the cap and twists it. Then he takes my jaw in a firm grip, which I take to mean that he’s serious.

I stare at his eyes with rapt attention as he leans in and draws the lipstick across my lower lip.

“I chose you because you are perfect in every way. You are perfect to me . You are everything I have ever wanted and will ever want, and I chose you as my date tonight because as long as you are in the room, I see no one else. Understand?”

I can hardly move. Tears prick behind my eyes, stinging as I fight off the urge to cry. I know he means this in the kinkiest way, but now I know he feels this way romantically too.

The idea that I mean this much to anyone is overwhelming. I want to mean the world to Jack. I want to mean what Emmaline meant to him, and I know that’s wrong of me, but I do.

His grip tightens. “Tell me you understand.”

I force myself to swallow. “I understand,” I whisper.

“Good girl,” he says, and the warmth of that phrase slides down my spine like honey.

He finishes my lipstick, applying it to the top lip. Once it’s done, he stares down at my mouth with a mischievous look.

“I’d like to see this color smeared across my cock.”

My belly ignites with heat at his filthy words. Rubbing my lips together, I fight a smirk as I reply, “I think that can be arranged.”

With a dashing smile, he presses his lips to my neck, inhaling my scent. I expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he softly states, “Tonight, I want to show you off.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you did my makeup then,” I reply with a laugh.

He pulls away. “No, I mean on stage.”

My eyes widen as every muscle in my body tenses. “What?”

“Just a simple suspension. You do it all the time.”

I swallow. Sure, I’ve done a demonstration at the club, but never a suspension before. There’s a difference. Suspensions require more focus and strength.

“If you don’t want to, I understand.” He leans and whispers in my ear. “But I think you owe it to yourself to prove that you’re not a nobody.”

As he pulls away, I narrow my eyes at him. “That wasn’t fair.”

He chuckles, leaving the bathroom. I fight back a smile at hearing his laughter as I quickly clean up my makeup, chucking the items in the makeup bag.

I know he’s right. I belong in that club as much as the next person, and with as many suspension positions as we’ve been trying lately, I know we could do it. And honestly, why not?

“I’m excited for you to see it,” Jack says from the back seat of the car. He squeezes my leg gently before intertwining our fingers and pulling me to him for a kiss.

“I have seen it,” I reply.

“No, I mean…done. In action,” he says. Tonight, he looks like a man on top of the world. In that black-on-black suit with a gold watch band on his wrist and expensive cuff links, he appears almost godly.

And he’s mine.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Camille.

There are a lot of hurdles to jump before I can start saying things like that.

As we turn the corner onto the club’s street, I notice the line of limos and black cars parked along the side. Attendants in white valet uniforms open the doors, and well-dressed men and women climb out of each car, walking up to the entrance of the club.

It’s nothing like the mess of people I found out here the first time I came, partiers drunk in the street.

Jack eyes the building appraisingly as we pull up. Someone opens the door for Jack first, and he steps out before coming to my side and opening mine for me. I take his hand as he leads me onto the pavement as if I’m suddenly the celebrity here.

There are no cameras or crowds. It’s all very discreet yet classy.

“Bonsoir, Monsieur St. Claire,” the man says as he pulls open the door of the club for us.

“Bonsoir,” he replies politely.

My arm is linked through Jack’s, and before we go in, his eyes rake up and down my body. I wait for him to take the lead and walk through the doors, but he hesitates, staring at me instead.

“I forgot to tell you how beautiful you look in that dress,” he says so kindly it takes my breath away.

“Thank you,” I whisper, unable to move as the warmth of his compliment covers me like a cozy blanket. It’s not just that he thinks I’m beautiful or wants me to know how much he admires me, it’s that Jack truly sees me. He treasures me. With him, I no longer feel alone.

What has happened to the man I first met? Am I naive to assume I’ve somehow changed him? Is it foolish of me to hope that he stays this way forever?

“Shall we?” he asks, and I silently nod.

Then he leads me inside.