Hot Commodity (10 page)

"Just don’t tell Mom and Dad," he said, mortified when his voice

cracked. "Please."

Leah touched his back. "I won’t tell anyone. I mean, except Devin."

He turned and hauled her into a grateful hug. "Thank you." He closed his eyes as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo. He wished he could stay there a while longer, holding a concerned loved one and drifting in a fog of pleasant—

"Now, about this alcohol."

Groaning, Cameron pulled away. Leah’s hands tighten as if she wanted to keep him closer and protect her little brother from something that couldn’t be protected.

"Bubby—" she started.

"Leah, don’t. Please. I’m not…I can’t...Just don’t worry about it, okay. It was one insignificant relapse. Honest to God, I haven’t touched the stuff since…" well, not since the last painful death date a year ago. But he wasn’t going to mention that bit of news to his sister. His family assumed he’d been dry for three years now, which was true, save for those few anniversary binges.

As her son continued to play between them, Leah eyed him miserably, intensifying the despair brewing inside him. If only he could return to his happy place, the ache would go away. He wouldn’t have to deal with—

"You’re a recovering alcoholic, Cameron," Leah stated firmly, jerking him back to reality. "You can’t afford a relapse, small or otherwise."

He sighed and pressed a hand to his skull where his hangover wasn’t slacking off. It hadn’t been his intent to drink at all last night. He’d been so sure he could deal with the date sober. But when the memories had crashed down around him, he’d needed to escape the pain and darkness. He’d have done anything to forget.

The funny thing was, he hadn’t thought of Sienna once last night, not from the very moment he’d looked up into a pair of big blue eyes and grinned at Olivia Donovan.

"Drinking once a year on the anniversary of my wife’s death should be allowed," he muttered. "Give me that much at least."

"No," Leah stated.

Shocked, Cameron lifted his face. Usually, people backed off when he mentioned Sienna. He did it seldom, but it was always a good way to get concerned loved ones off his case and nab himself some leeway. Yet Leah didn’t budge.

Weird.

"It’s been, what, nine years," she said. "You need to get over this."

"Ten," he gritted out. "It’s been ten years."

Leah finally softened. Her face transformed as she reached for his arm. He pulled back before she could touch him.

"I’m sorry," she said. She sounded genuinely remorseful too, until

she added, "But this time you’re not just hurting yourself. You brought an innocent woman into it."

Innocent? In his mind’s eyes, Cameron caught a flash of Olivia Donovan in her black leather bustier with her plush tits about to spill out the top, telling him he could do anything he wanted to her if only they’d marry. He almost snorted in his sister’s face. Yeah, right. Real innocent.

"What’re you going to do with her?" Leah asked.

Remembering exactly what he’d already done with her, Cameron refrained from snickering. He picked up one of his nephew’s toys and shrugged, tossing the block between two hands. "I’m not going to do anything. She’s calling her mother as we speak to come get her. I’ve already talked to Bos. He’s going to work up the divorce or annulment papers, or whatever."

Leah arched a brow.

"What?" he said. "Did you want me to stay married to her?"

"No," she muttered and let out an irritated sigh. Then she growled. "Why can’t you just stop this depression? A divorce might save you this time, Cameron. But what about next time? Why won’t you just let your family help you?"

"Help me do what?" They couldn’t bring Sienna back. They couldn’t take the guilt and remorse off his shoulders. They couldn’t fix shit. There was nothing they could do but hurt right along with him.

 
"Cam," she bit out, gritting her teeth. But movement from the doorway caused both brother and sister to glance up.

Wearing his dress shirt with the arms hanging down over her hands and her fingers constantly working the cuffs in a nervous gesture, Olivia hunched in the doorway. She looked on the verge of another crying jag.

"She’s already gone back home," she said, her voice cracking.

She looked about as scared as a lost lamb, and Cameron’s frustrations grew. If what she’d told him about her mother was true, then she was just as innocent in this situation as he was, and the whole night had been one big, avoidable accident.

God. Exactly what he didn’t want to deal with.

"Okay," he said, remaining as calm as possible. "Where’s home?"

Her shoulders heaved as she sucked in air. "Pasadena."

He nodded. "Fine. Tomorrow, I’m headed home myself. I’ll just have my pilot detour us by your place on the way."

"But you’re going in completely the opposite direction of California," Leah cut in.

Cameron gave his sister a sour look. "What would you rather have me do? Take her back to KC with me?"

"Well, she is your
wife
."

Cameron growled and tossed down the block he’d been holding. It hit another that happened to be a vital foundation piece to the structure his nephew was building. As the entire stack went tumbling, four-year-old Aiden burst into devastated tears.

Leah gathered her sobbing son into her arms and held him to her chest as she glared at Cameron. "Look what you did," she said accusingly. She cooed to Aiden and struggled to her feet. With a final scowl at Cam, she carried her son from the room, telling him they’d go do something else and leave mean old Uncle Cameron alone.

Cameron sighed and shoved over another pile of blocks. He glanced at Olivia, who watched him with untrusting eyes.

God, he needed a drink.

Feeling his nasty mood spark, he decided to take it out on her. "So, how am I supposed to know you’re telling me the truth?"

Her story was too fishy. None of it added up. He was having a hard time believing she’d stumbled across him by mere coincidence when he was the one guy she claimed to be avoiding.

When Olivia frowned in confusion, he explained, "Maybe you wanted to do exactly what Mommy told you to do. Maybe you followed me to that bar last night and waited until I was good and plowed before strolling over in that tight little number."

"No."

He snorted when Olivia shook her head emphatically. "You know, maybe Mommy didn’t want to keep me as a son-in-law at all. Why would she need to? If you could talk me into marrying you, which you did, then you could just keep me in bed long enough until we bypassed the opportunity to get a nice simple annulment and had to go through a divorce instead, where you’d take half of everything I own."

Olivia’s jaw dropped. "I don’t want anything from—"

"But you know what?" Cameron cut in. "You can go ahead and take it. I don’t give a rat’s ass. I can be poor and miserable just as easily as I can be rich and miserable."

"You’re wrong," Olivia told him, shaking her head again.

But Cameron wasn’t buying it. "You know what’s wrong? You. It’s just plain wrong to go out, planning on seducing a complete stranger just because you know he’s rich. Some people would call that stealing, you know. You didn’t even earn it. Oh, wait. I guess you did. You screwed me real good last night, didn’t you? Well then, it must be time for me to pay my whore. Except you’re a little more pricey than most, aren’t you?"

Gasping, Olivia took a step back. "Why, you awful, awful man. I see why your wife killed herself."

Six

Olivia’s hands fisted inside the sleeves of Cameron Banks’ long-sleeved shirt. If they’d been free, she would’ve slapped him. As it was, her words seemed to knock him back as effectively as any physical blow she could’ve produced. He blanched and lurched a step in reverse. But he stopped moving so abruptly, she wondered if he’d been petrified. Then he swallowed, and by the expression on his face, he was ingesting razorblades.

 
For one awful, drawn-out second, she feared he might burst into tears. His bottom lip trembled and his eyes went moist. It took her a moment to remember what she’d said in her rage. When she realized she’d accused him of driving his first wife to suicide, she stopped breathing, appalled by herself.

Oh, God.

Olivia could actually see where all his insults toward her originated. Her tale was ludicrous. If she were him, she’d probably think she was merely following her mother’s orders too. She always had before. But his words had hurt, so she’d lashed back with the first thing she could think to say.

Her mother always made similar comments, telling Olivia her father had killed himself to escape such an awful daughter. Over the years, she’d grown numb to the barbs, had actually become immune to them. So it was a little surprising to see how adversely they affected Cameron Banks.

Ashamed she’d reverted to one of her mother’s techniques, she sank back a step. His agony-filled face started to blaze with color, making Olivia’s eyes widen. Instead of fearing he might cry, she suddenly worried he would attack. His nostrils flared and his eyes cleared, turning a hard, dangerous black.

"That’s it," he said from between his clenched teeth. "You’re getting the hell out of here. Right now. I don’t care if I have to drive you to California myself. Get your things. You’re leaving."

Olivia blinked rapidly, trying to beat down the sudden urge to weep. She felt awful. God, why hadn’t she slapped him instead? She must be the lowest life form on earth, worse than the scum that grew on pond scum.

"I...I don’t have anything," she whispered, her voice small and timid.

"Just my top." She looked down at the baggy shirt adorning her body. "What about your—"

"Keep it," he bit out. "Go get your top and let’s go. Now."

Not wanting to argue, Olivia rushed back to the room where she’d spent the night in his arms. As she snagged the piece of black leather off the bed, she caught sight of the empty condom wrapper on the floor. It had been intended for his use, and he had indeed used it. Suddenly sick, she glanced away.

If Vivian found out about this, she’d be thrilled. The one time Olivia had tried to break free, she’d ended up doing exactly what her mother wanted. Her stomach roiled; she thought she might vomit.

She’d been a fool to attempt rebellion.

Tucking the bustier under her arm, she rushed from the room and away from the glaring reminder of her failed try at a new start.

Cameron stood waiting by the opened front door, impatiently jiggling his keys. He stormed outside when he saw her, and Olivia followed.

He drove them to the airport in stony silence. Too miserable to speak, she remained mute.

She was returning to Vivian. Dear Lord, she had to go back.

Shadowing her the entire way, Cameron accompanied Olivia to the front desk to buy a ticket. When she heard the price, she counted the cash on her and was panicked when she discovered she didn’t have enough money, not by half.

Grumbling, Cameron jerked his wallet from his back pocket and paid her fare. He didn’t glance at her once as he did so. Olivia didn’t bother to thank him. She instinctively knew he’d only snap at her if she tried.

After that, he escorted her to her terminal. She bit her lip as she walked beside him, unable to understand why he was being nice to her when he was still obviously so mad. His presence comforted Olivia, though. Glad she wasn’t by herself and grateful he was being considerate despite his animosity, she hovered next to him and tried to think up something to say.