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She eyes me. “Preparing to die.”
I break into a grin, shifting the car into first.
Maybe this will be fun.
Chapter Three
Nila
His driving is out of control.
“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.” Cameron cackles, his hand resting casually on the steering wheel—like he wasn’t just going over a hundred miles per hour down the freeway like a lunatic.
“Just tell me when we’re there,” I say, my eyes shut.
“We’re there,” he says, taking a sharp right turn. The momentum throws me over the center console, and I slam into the big hockey player’s shoulder. Instinctually, I clench my eyelids shut and latch onto his bicep, clinging to him for dear life. Even though he’s the one with murderous driving habits.
But wow, he’s got incredible arms—and smells like a masculine ocean spray.
“Um...” His voice trails off as we’re suddenly sitting still. “You can open your eyes now. We’re here—at your hotel.”
My eyes flutter open, and I drop my hands, sitting up straight and pushing my hair out of my face. I clear my throat and avoid his amused gaze. “What’s the dress code for your party?”
“Well, it’s not really a party. It’s just a get-together.”
“Okay, so what’s the dress code?” My heart’s still racing in my chest. “My goal is to not stand out. I’m just going to be in the background.”
“You’re a redhead. You’re going to stand out.”
My mouth drops open. “Wow, and you’re a—”
“Just go change into something comfortable,” he cuts me off, leaning back against the leather seat. He looks achingly handsome with his blond hair and troubled hazel eyes. He’s the epitome of an NHL player, standing over six feet tall, his body athletic and muscular. Not to mention, the dimples on his cheeks are adorable.
But I shake off the thought as I climb out of the car. I’m well aware that pretty much everything about Cameron Hastens is a red flag. He’s a hothead with model ex-girlfriends … and he’s a crazy driver, too.
I’m here for business and business alone.
I won’t let him charm his way under my skin.
“Hurry back,” he calls after me as I shut the car door.
I roll my eyes as I head inside, my heels clicking against the pavement. This is one of the most high-profile jobs I’ve taken on, and if it goes well, I’ll have a stand-out resume.
I walk through the abstract lobby covered in strange artwork and head straight for the elevator. I smash the up button and wait.
I wonder what his friends will be like.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little intimidated about following around a person like Cameron. Up until this point, most of my clients have been CEOs or associates of large companies who struggle with creating a social media presence. They’re typically introverted and, honestly, easy. They’re desperate for my help, so they’re like moldable clay.
But Cameron?
Yeah, no. He’s like trying to mold a rock. I definitely have my work cut out for me.
I ride the elevator up to the fourth floor and then step off, making my way to room 419. It’s a long walk, but I make it quickly. The last thing I want is for Cameron to get the idea to leave me. Though I’m sure if he did, it would fall back on him … but it wouldn’t look good for me either.
Swiping my key card, I push the door handle down and enter the room. My suitcase is still lying open on the bed. I didn’t get here soon enough to get settled in, but it’ll have to wait until later. I sift through its contents and pull out my light-wash jeans and a black long-sleeved blouse. I strip down and redress, sliding on a pair of Vans platform slip-ons. They aren’t Nikes, but I’ll still be able to keep up.
I toss my dirty clothes to the side and do a quick check in the mirror. My hair is a little frizzy, but I don’t have time to mess with it. I swap to a crossbody purse and head out.
