She looked up, her blue eyes bright with curiosity.
“My mother would like to meet you. I’m heading to the Hamptons tomorrow for a long weekend, and I’d love for you to join me. But if it’s too much too soon, I completely understand.”
To his surprise and delight, she didn’t hesitate even a moment. “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to meet your mother.”
The smile that spread across his face felt unstoppable. “Perfect. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
Back in his office, Leander found himself mentally planning their weekend—quiet walks along the beach, showing her the pride lands where his lion could finally run free, and intimate dinners without the pressure of the city’s watchful eyes. For once, he looked forward to time away from work.
Travis appeared in his doorway without knocking, as was his habit. “You’re smiling again,” his cousin observed with amusement.
Leander touched his face, surprised. “Am I?”
“Like a man who’s gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas. Let me guess—things went well with Camille last night?”
“Camille and I will be taking tomorrow off to visit my mother at the estate.”
Travis’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re taking time off? In the middle of the Lexington project? This must be serious.”
“I claimed her last night,” Leander admitted quietly.
Travis’s laughter filled the office. “I knew it! Didn’t even last one night under the same roof. I told you restraint feels different when she’s that close.”
“She initiated it,” Leander replied firmly.
“Well, even better then. Means she wants you as much as you want her. At this rate, there might be a wedding before we know it.”
The thought sent a thrill through Leander that he didn’t bother to hide. “Hold down the fort while I’m away?”
“Yes, boss. Go enjoy your mate.”
As Travis left, Leander settled back into his chair, his mind already in the Hamptons, already imagining Camille’s reaction to the sprawling estate where his family had lived for generations. The rest of the day passed in a haze of anticipation and half-formed plans for the perfect romantic weekend.
ELEVEN
CAMILLE
The afternoon sun slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Camille’s office, casting geometric patterns across the Lexington blueprints spread before her like a complex puzzle waiting to be solved. She’d been lost in the technical drawings for hours, her mind dancing between structural possibilities and aesthetic enhancements, completely absorbed in the kind of work that made her soul sing.
Leander’s original design was solid—brilliant, even. His structural integrity was flawless, the spatial flow logical and efficient. But as Camille studied each elevation and floor plan, she saw opportunities he’d missed. Places where warmth could soften the stark functionality, where natural light could transform cold corporate spaces into environments that actually nurtured the people who worked there.
Her red pen moved across the blueprints with increasing confidence, marking adjustments to window placements, suggesting interior courtyards that would bring the outside in, redesigning the lobby to create a sense of arrival rather than mere passage. She sketched in living walls, water features, and seating areas that would encourage collaboration whilemaintaining the professional atmosphere Leander’s clients demanded.
When she finally leaned back in her chair, the blueprints looked like they’d been through a creative storm. Red ink covered nearly every surface—notes, arrows, question marks, and enthusiasm spilling across the technical precision of Leander’s original work.
A laugh bubbled up from her chest as she surveyed the chaos she’d created. He’d asked for her perspective, and she certainly hadn’t held back. For once in her professional life, she’d allowed her true vision to emerge without filtering it through what others might expect or approve of.
The realization sent a thrill through her, but underneath it, a growing anticipation was building. Leander had invited her to the Hamptons tomorrow, wanted her to meet his mother—steps that should have terrified her with their implications of permanence and commitment. Instead, she felt invigorated, as if her life was finally clicking into place like pieces of a perfectly designed puzzle.
She was choosing herself, choosing what she wanted, and the world wasn’t ending. In fact, it was beginning.
Her phone rang, interrupting her moment of triumph. Damian’s name flashed across the screen, and her stomach clenched with instinctive unease.
I really want to have a relationship with you. I’ll do anything you want to make that happen. I can’t stop thinking about you.
Camille stared at the message, her earlier euphoria curdling into discomfort. The intensity felt wrong, possessive rather than romantic. She typed back carefully, maintaining politeness despite her growing alarm.
I appreciate that, but I’m not interested. I’m already seeing someone else.
