Instead, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What about Scott?” he said flatly.
Daniel frowned. “What about him?”
Cam stared him down. “You realize this affects him too, right? Journalists are going to hound him.”
A brief silence fell over the room.
Alice’s expression softened slightly. “I’m sure Palmer Corp has their own PR people handling it.”
Right. Of course.That was all they cared about, after all.
“He’s hardly unprotected, Cam,” Daniel said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If anything, with his resources, he has far more protection than you do. You’re a public figure and can’t simply refuse interviews. He can. He has lawyers, security, enough money to bury stories if necessary. He’ll be fine.”
Daniel wasn’t wrong.
But—
Cam rubbed at his jaw, restless.He needed to make sure Scott was okay.Not wanted—needed.Like it was something physical lodged beneath his ribs.
You don’t want to make sure he’s okay, the same nasty voice said at the back of his mind.It’s just an excuse to see him so you can stick your dick in him again.
Heat crawled up Cam’s neck, equal parts embarrassment and irritation.No, of course it wasn’t the reason. It wasn’t, damn it.
“I agree with Daniel,” Alice said. “Keep away from Scott Palmer.”
“What I do is none of your business,” he said coldly, his irritation flaring. “Either of you.”
Daniel sighed heavily. “Jesus Christ, Cam. We’re not your enemies. We’re trying to help here.”
“I don’t need your fucking help,” he snapped—and immediately felt guilty when they flinched.
Fuck.
He knew they meant well. He shouldn’t bite their heads off for doing their jobs—for trying to save his career. He knew he should be more appreciative of it.
But fuck, he was exhausted. Exhausted from constantly fighting himself, from trying to convince himself he’d done the right thing.A month ago, keeping his distance from Scott had seemed logical. Necessary.But all it had done was make him feel vaguely furious all the time.Furious and restless and stressed and distracted as hell.
Like something important had been ripped out of his life without warning.
Something he couldn’t actually live without.
***
Cam knew what he was doing could technically qualify as stalking.
The rational side of his brain kept insisting it was creepy, but after more than a month without seeing Scott, that rational voice was getting quieter and quieter.
Which was how he found himself sprawled across his hotel bed two hours later, deep in the rabbit hole of stalking Scott’s friends’ Instagram accounts in hopes of catching a glimpse of him.
In his defense, Scott’s own Instagram page had become oddly inactive lately. Cam was used to waking up to a new post every morning. Scott had posted constantly—ridiculous selfies, pretentious black-and-white photography, blurry photos of expensive cocktails with captions that made no sense. Sometimes entire dramatic quotes about things Cam had no clue about.
Cam had spent months pretending those posts annoyed him.Apparently they’d become part of his routine without him noticing. Now their absence felt wrong. Then again, everything felt fucking wrong these days. It felt beyond wrong thathe didn’t know what was happening in Scott’s life. He didn’t like it.Didn’t like not knowing where he was or who he was with or—
Christ, he sounded like a psycho even in his own head.
He had never considered himself controlling. He’d never cared what his girlfriends did when they weren’t with him. Half the time he forgot to reply to their texts for days because racing consumed most of his life.
But with Scott it was different. With Scott it was like an itch beneath his skin, persistent and impossible to ignore no matter how hard he tried. He kept trying to rationalize it.Scotty was loud and lively and impossible to miss. Of course his absence felt noticeable. Except that explanation fell apart under scrutiny. Cam knew plenty of loud people. Plenty of charismatic people.He had never once felt compelled to know every tiny detail of their daily lives.
