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With a playful smirk, I start to speak, but the doorbell rings. “I’ll get the door, chef.”
I cast a glance over my shoulder while retreating from the massive kitchen. Camdyn’s shoving his fingers through his hair, jaw flexed.
As I walk through the spacious living room, Camdyn’s a few feet behind me. “Who is it?”
I ride the balls of my feet, glancing out the peephole. “Looks like Amir.”
Camdyn places his forearm over my bare stomach, pressing me behind him. He snatches open the heavy door. Amir’s cologne smells divine from a distance, and he’s dressed in nice jeans.
“The fuck are you doing here, Amir?”
He edges out, “I’m . . . here to set up for the party.”
“Nah, man.” Nostrils flared, Camdyn steps outside and slams the door.
My fingertips graze the intricate doorknob. Camdyn’s so not having a party tonight. When an acrid smell assaults my nose, I hurry back into the kitchen. An oven mitten is engulfed in flames near the burner. “Dammit, Cam.”
Usually dependable, he’s definitely having an off day. As I anxiously head toward the burning mitten, my name is called by a familiar voice.
“Willow,” Jamie rushes into the room. With tongs in hand, he seizes the tip of the mitten and tosses it into the sink. I turn on the water while he returns to the burner, flicking it off.
“Thanks. Um, when did you get here?” My eyes flicker to the tongs in his hand. The entire scenario strikes me as peculiar.
“For the party,” Jamie elaborates. “I’m surprised you were comfortable with Cam hosting the Green Room tonight.”
“Oh.” I lean a nonchalant hip against the island. I’m not blabbing about how uncomfortable and unaware I was about the party.
“C’mere, let me show you something.” A few dark blond tresses mask his face, and Jamie sweeps the lengthy strands away, holding out his other hand.
“Jamie, what’s wrong?” I ask as he leads me through the house to the sliding glass door. The lights have kicked on due to movement.
We step out onto the deck, and a cold chill rocks over me. Jamie pulls his arm around me.
“Not so fast.” I sidestep him, glowering at the luxury car convention along the side of the house. Music blasts from speakers attempting to compete with each other. Cheerleaders run past us, pulling their short dresses over their heads, zipping toward the placid lake.
“Oh. No bras or panties,” I snort. “I assume a full moon encouraged the crazy.”
“Not our scene.” Jamie’s fingers weave through mine.
“Where the hell is Cam?”
“Probably entertain—”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Jamie?” I growl.
Mouth snarled, Jamie asks, “Have you seen the video of him having sex with you?”
I stumble back and yelp when a branch bites into my heel. Teeth gritted, I stroll into the house. “Show me the video, Jamie.”
“Willow?” Camdyn is calling my name from the front door. I open the door of a guest room and slip in. Jamie sweeps in afterward, closing the door behind him.
“Please don’t lie to me,” I massage my constricted throat. You’re such an idiot, Lolo. You’d rather Jamie not lie, or Cam not have created a cheesy porno without your consent?
“This is what they do, Willow.” Frowning, Jamie yanks his cellphone from his back pocket. Fingers trembling, I slide next to Jamie.
He clicks on a clip. “Oh, that’s not . . .”
I glare at a video of Camdyn. He has a girl with a glittery half mask on the floor. Her ass is up. While he fucks her from behind, her face is hidden between another chick’s legs.
