Page 107 of The Good Girl Effect

Camille

My 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 nowthat 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 bringingme. 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 aremine. 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.