James rested an arm on the counter, seeming more at ease now. “You saw Winston’s drawing about Melanie, right? She was totally using him for his money. You’ve never given me cause to think you’re that way, but hearing that you applied to get onto The Lion’s Den last year kind of freaked me out.”
Wait, what?
“Mainly because you didn’t tell me. In fact…” He pulled back from the counter and straightened as something sparked in his eyes. “You told me you didn’t even know who I was…”
“James, I never applied to get on The Lion’s Den. I mean, I’d heard about the show, but I hadn’t evenseen an episode until after we bumped into each other.”
She studied his reaction as the words left her lips. The subtle shake of his head. Tightening of his jaw. The clench of one fist. “Try again, Camila. Just…tell me the truth and we can move on from this.Please.”
Her throat went dry, as if it might clamp up around the words seeking an escape. “Iamtelling the truth.” She hurried around the counter and reached for his arm, but James took a sharp step back.
“You just admitted you were hiding something.”
“Notthat,”she assured. But she was too derailed to even think. There was no point going into what she wanted to tell him if he believed she was lying to her about something else.
“So you’re hidingtwothings from me then,” he accused. “Sounds like I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”
“That’s not true,” she said, her voice shaky and weak.
“I know for a fact that you tried to get on the show.” He was gaining momentum now. She could sense it in the growing volume of his voice. “I give you a chance to come clean about it, hoping we can just get past it and move on, but you lie about it instead.”
She shook her head, unable to even find the words to defend herself. It was all so shocking. So…out of the blue.
“You’re wrong,” she assured, but James piped up once more.
“And then I find out that there’s a whole other secret you want to come clean with? Probably to distract me from the fact that you’re not the woman you painted yourself to be.”
Camila’s lips were parted, her mouth poised to defend herself and tell James just how wrong he was. But that last line silenced her. The woman she’dpaintedherself to be? Did the truth about her parents play a defining factor in that equation?
She shook her head, pressed her lips together, and scrambled for an effective way to defend herself. “Maybe weshouldsit down,” she blurted. “We need to figure out where you got the impression that I—”
“It’s not just an impression, Camila. It’s a fact. I have proof. You know, I can work with problems. I do that with companies all day long. Take a look at what’s broken and see if we can fix it. But if I don’t have all the facts…if I’m dealing with a bunch of lies about who you are and what you’ve done—there’s nothing I can do.”
“James, just tell me where you heard that.”
He held her gaze for a blink, his blue eyes rimmed with red. Moisture welled at the corners, but it wasn’t enough to blur their dark and hollow state. “I think you should leave.”
Camila covered a gasp as her heart sank. For all the fight Camila had within her, for all the passion for justice and rightness and good, she couldn’t muster enough to speak.
“I’ll pay for your flight back home, and for the remainder of the week as well. Just…make your exit as brief as possible.” He spun away from her then, but paused before walking out. He tipped his head, allowing a glimpse of his profile. “Goodbye, Camila.”
Chapter 21
It felt like Camila was walking in someone else’s shoes. Not in the sense that she was in a new place experiencing a different life. The surroundings of her LA apartment said it all. She was in her own home with all the familiar comforts surrounding her.
But there was no comfort to be found. And as she pulled her clothes from the suitcase and piled them into the washer, it felt as if she was moving someone else’s arms. And when she walked over to the sink, filled up a glass to water the plant, it felt like she was using someone else’s feet.
Her body had gone into retreat mode. Numbed itself to any real sensation. Hoping to stop the impending pain from settling in.
James had sent her packing. But not before he’d accused her of lying about trying to get onto his family’s show. Something she’d never even considered doing.
She was glad Gypsy wasn’t home yet. The two would’ve gotten back around the same time had Camila finished out her month at the Royal Palm, but now she’d have some time alone to sit with what had happened. To accept that James—the man she’d fallen in love with—had broken things off.
She wasn’t sure when it would really hit her. Camila had figured it might sink in once she was in the town car. Or on the plane. But that stubborn strand of disbelief held out.
A sharp whistle broke into her thoughts, reminding Camila that she’d placed the kettle on the stove. She hurried over to shut off the heat and snatch a mug from the cupboard. After dropping a bag of licorice tea into the mug, she filled it up and set a plate on top to let it steep.
She snatched the pile of mail off the table, tossed it onto the tray with her tea, and wandered onto her back patio. A soft breeze blew over the evening sky. For a moment, she expected a different view—the view she’d become accustomed to seeing from the patio at the Villa.
