The Warrens never had to worry about having money; they only ever had to worry about using it to their advantage.
And they did.
Ivy League educations, several beautiful homes across the globe, traveling by private accommodations, experiencing the best of what life and the world offered, there were no worries.
Well, not of the financial kind. Instead, his family worried about how to compound their wealth and the prestige it brought them. In the Warren family, you married to improve your fortune, your standing in the community, or both.
It was reminiscent of the intermarriage that took place among European royalty. To preserve the line, they arranged marriages between unwed children.
The Warrens weren’t royalty. However, they sought many of the tenets of royalty: wealth, power, and prestige.
But here Camden sat in a room full of laughing people who had no monetary fortunes to speak of, none that he could tell anyway, and they seemed to possess something Camden didn’t remember ever witnessing in his own family: happiness.
They were at ease with one another. Invading one another’s personal space, finding humor in one another, enjoying one another’s company. This was something he’d never experienced in his family.
The laughter died down, and the focus of the conversation shifted as everyone’s gaze fell on him.
“So where are you and your family from, Camden?”
Camden blinked for a moment while he pondered how to answer Evelyn Stephenson’s question. Elijah must have seen his hesitance and moved closer to him, sitting on the arm of his armchair and placing a comforting arm around the back of the chair.
A brief nod from Elijah, and Camden smiled at the man and then his mother before speaking.
“Albany.”
“Albany?” Evelyn’s brown eyes crinkled at the edges with curiosity. “How did you end up all the way down in the five boroughs?”
On paper, his trek from the ideal world of the quiet suburb just outside of the city limits of New York’s capital to the faster-paced five boroughs of what New Yorkers considered Downstate seemed odd. However, when your father had your career path planned out from birth, it didn’t seem all that strange.
“Work.” His answer was a more stripped-down version of the truth, but still the truth. “There was a position in a notable Brooklyn law office available.” Camden didn’t often disclose what kind of law he practiced or that he was a prosecutor. Sure, it was misleading, but in this case a little misdirection was certainly warranted. “It was far from home, but it was an opportunity I couldn’t say no to.”
“Couldn’t” being the operative word in that sentence. His father’s dream of Camden becoming a political powerhouse required Camden’s career to be firmly planted in New York’s political scene. It didn’t matter that Camden would’ve much preferred to work as a defense attorney. Being a tough-on-crime prosecutor would look better on Camden’s résumé.
The work hadn’t been terrible. Camden had made lasting acquaintanceships in the DA’s office that had made the job bearable. But doing a thing because you were good at it or because someone told you to do it wasn’t the same as loving your job.
“So how did you two meet?” This time the question came from Elijah’s sister-in-law, Vivienne. She was tempered compared to the rest of the Stephenson family, her eyes bright and her smile easy, lulling Camden into her question.
“Through my boss.” Drawing from Elijah’s edict that the best lies were rooted in truth, Camden answered easily. “Elijah and my boss are work friends, I guess you’d say. She knew we were both single and suggested we might enjoy getting to know each other.”
“That’ll make for an interesting story to tell your future children.”
Camden thanked the heavens he hadn’t been drinking anything. If he had, it would have come spewing out of his mouth. Instead, he stared openly at Evelyn, trying to make certain he’d heard her correctly. The generous smile she wore confirmed Camden hadn’t imagined what she’d said.
He had nothing, absolutely nothing, to counter that assumption that he and Elijah would someday have children. He pulled his gaze to Elijah’s, hoping he’d know how to better deal with his mother. Dealing with his own parents all these years had been Camden’s greatest failure. He wasn’t about to manage someone else’s.
“Mama!” The stern way Elijah called to her made the older woman grin even wider. “On that note, I think it’s time we call it a night. Camden’s had a pretty hectic couple of days, and I’m sure he could use some rest.”
“Same sleeping arrangements as always, or you want Viv and me to take your room and share the upstairs with the ’rents?”
Camden waited for Elijah’s answer to Emmanuel’s question. As far as Camden could recall, there were only two bedrooms in this house. The master and the guest room Elijah had placed Camden in earlier. What other sleeping arrangements could Emmanuel be speaking of?
“Nah, you and Viv can keep the room in the basement. Camden and I are in my master. Pops and Mama can take the guest room down the hall once I’ve made it up.”
Camden swallowed his building anxiety. The quick hand job in his basement gym was one thing, but spending a night in the same bed as Elijah was a temptation Camden didn’t think wise. They hadn’t processed what had happened between them yet. Being locked in the same bed couldn’t help their situation.
Elijah stood up, hugged his father and brother, and gave his mother and sister-in-law each a peck on the cheek before he turned his gaze to Camden and extended a hand for Camden to take.
Camden watched his hand for probably what seemed longer than necessary to the rest of the room. Not that he didn’t understand the reason Elijah was doing it. No, he understood, but it still somehow seemed so out of character for the way the big man communicated with Camden.
