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“It will take a lot to get me to stay.”
Quiet hope brightened his face. “Is that a yes?”
The mouth of the alley beckoned, drawing my gaze to Anne’s bakery, closed across the street. What did I have to lose? One lunch with Camden, the date I always wanted—not exactly how I wanted it, but still. It wasn’t a burden to go with him, even if it proved a pointless endeavor.
I met his eyes once more. “It’s a yes.”
Twenty-Seven
His Star Trek car was just as ridiculous today as it was last night. It even smelled expensive, a feature that annoyed me the longer I considered it.
Like a petulant child, I crossed my arms and sank deep into my heated seat. “Your car smells like rich people.”
A surprised chuckle burst from him as he pulled onto the street. “What do rich people smell like?”
“Leather and cedar.” I answered at once, then added an insolent, “And money.”
“Ah. So…good then? They smell good.”
I shot him a sassy side-eye. “Don’t get smart with me.”
“I don’t know how to be anything else. I am, after all, Ivy League educated.” His cute smile did bizarre things to my stomach, so I averted my attention to the scenery.
“And yet you were still only second best.”
He laughed softly. “Touché.”
“Did your Ivy League education teach you the art of persuasion? Because otherwise, I don’t know that taking me anywhere will serve your purpose.”
He exhaled. “What did he say to you?”
Staring out the window while Cam drove us out of town, I considered how to respond. The full truth was off the table, but perhaps sticking to the first half of our conversation would suffice. “Just that my job is temporary, and he wondered when I’d be finishing so I could scamper off back to the dirty streets from whence I came, like the peasant I am.”
His skeptical gaze touched on me, then moved back to the road. “There’s more.”
It wasn’t a question. He knew I was leaving things out, but I refused to say them. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re afraid he might have said, and I’ll confirm whether it was true.”
He debated that silently, chewing on his lip in a way that made me want to chew on his lip, so I had to look away.
“Alright,” he said at last. “Did he insult you?”
“Yes.”
Cam frowned. “Did he threaten you?”
I thought about that. He told me I’d never have his money, even through marriage, but that wasn’t a threat. No, the person he’d threatened was Cam.
And that seemed so much more serious than if he’d threatened only me.
“No.”
Cam exhaled, and we came to a stoplight. “Did he give you an ultimatum?”
Not in so many words, but essentially our conversation boiled down to: Stay away from Cam, or I’ll disinherit him.
“Yes.”
“Involving me?”
