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Her expression softened, and a bit of that sparkle came back into her eyes—dulled, but there. “I am. Physically, at least. I promise. Can we go see the property now? I can’t stay at this one for too long. I have a meeting soon that I don’t really want to have.”
I sighed, weighing it out for a second before I turned back to the door. “Sure thing. But… you can tell me what’s on your mind. If you ever want to.”
“Hm. Just a salesperson’s job, is it?”
“Something like that.”
She followed me into the lobby as I gestured to the space around us, quieter and more modest compared to the sweeping spaces we’d been in before, although the green display at the center of the lobby was a gorgeous centerpiece. Cameron nodded along as I told her about the building’s construction, but I could tell she wasn’t listening. I could also tell she needed me to continue pretending like she was.
The ride up to the top floor was quick, and she stuck close to my side as we came out into the foyer—a clean apartment, modern, chic, with plenty of white and marble. It had a more comfortable feel than the others, a room with a strip of windows along one wall looking out in the direction of Miami at large, but the whites and golds still gave it an elegant sense of luxury. Cameron nodded appreciatively as I showed her through the living room and the office suite, smiled at the private gym space with a full-wall window, and she actually gave me a real smile when we got into the kitchen with its massive walk-in pantry.
“You’ve got a place like this on your radar? I’d thought you weren’t much of a cook.”
“Well.” I gestured lazily over it all, mostly just wondering what to read into the fact that she’d remembered that offhand comment. “If I were ultra-rich, I’d probably just lounge in the living room while my attractive private chef works here on making me the best meal in the world.”
“Shame I can’t hire you as a private chef, or I’d be able to get the full experience.”
I smiled wider. “You could. Your food would just largely be based around anything that comes out of a can.”
She stepped into the walk-in pantry, nodding to the wide shelves with their built-in organizers and drawers. “Plenty of space for cans in here. I think you might be fine.”
“Well, for the right price, a meal you could make yourself in fifteen minutes could be yours,” I said, following her into the pantry. She turned on me with a glint in her eyes, backing me into the corner.
“And have the very attractive private chef to share it with?”
“That’s not typically how it works when you hire a chef, but—”
“Plenty of room in here for me to pin the private chef against the wall, too.”
I raised my eyebrows. “The hiring price would go down significantly if that were part of the package.”
“Well.” She backed me up further, coming in close enough I could smell her perfume, intoxicating, and I felt my breath coming shorter, shallower. “The deal’s getting more and more tempting.”
“Cameron…” As always, her name just slipped out—a reflex, as natural as breathing. Still, this time, it broke something, frustration flashing over her face as she turned away.
“Sorry.” She put a hand to her forehead, sighing sharp, hard—the kind of sigh that was at no one but herself. I swallowed.
“Is… everything all right?”
“No. Yes. Sure.” She sank back against the wall. “Is there a nice spot with a view where we won’t get rained on? Because I could go for that right now.”
Of course there was. I knew Cameron liked a view.
The bedroom in the place was all-out, sleek white with marble designs and subtle pink accents, and its own seating area at the full-wall windows looking out over the green space on the rooftop and the city beyond—not that we could see much of it in the driving rain. It made a dramatic image, though, rain pouring down over the window like a waterfall. It was only once we were sitting on the couch—a playful touch of white shag along with the soft pink legs on the coffee table dressing the space down a bit—that Cameron spoke, softly, leaning forwards with her elbows on her knees.
“This place is plenty luxurious too, turns out.”
My stomach churned. I’d suggested this, but if Cameron bought this one? I had no idea how I’d explain it to María. “A bit more down-to-earth, maybe,” I said, and she smiled lightly at me before she turned her gaze back to the window.
“Don’t you have to sell me on the expensive one to make sure the company stays solvent?”
I paused, something catching in my throat. “Er… what?”
“I’d heard about something like that. How the company’s in trouble.”
I should have had a ready excuse, some slick wording to make it sound like everything was just fine. But I found I couldn’t really twist the truth, not to Cameron, and no words came—an anxious silence. Cameron sighed.
“I’d hardly like to kill your career over my cold feet.”
