Smith was strangely quiet as they rode the elevator to his father’s office. Cam couldn’t help but notice that he seemed on edge. Then again, in Cam’s limited experience, he always seemed on edge where his father was concerned.
She let him lead the way to the senior Calloway’s office. She stepped into the room after Smith, her eyes going wide at how big the space was. The office was easily double the size of Smith’s, with a huge oak desk and stylized chairs sitting before it.
Spencer Calloway stood up as they entered, waving them into the chairs. “Sit, sit.”
Cam glanced at Smith as she took a seat. He looked foreboding, to say the least.
“What are we here for?” Smith asked, matter-of-factly.
“You’ll excuse my son,” Spencer said to Cam. “Of course, being his executive assistant, you undoubtedly already know of his short temper.”
Smith gave his father a flat look. After a moment of indecision, Cam decided to stick up for Smith.
“He’s always perfectly even-tempered with me,” she lied smoothly, putting a smile on her face.
Spencer’s brows shot up a fraction. “Well, isn’t that nice. Smith, isn’t it nice that your employee speaks highly of you?”
Smith looked like there were about a thousand conversations he’d rather be having than this one. He shifted in his chair, his patience wearing thin.
“Very nice. Now do you mind telling us why you’ve called us in here?”
“I want you to take over running Europe,” his father said casually.
She saw Smith sit up a little straighter. “What? Why?”
“Relax. I’m going to focus on running things here in the US. For me to really concentrate, I’ll have to hand over Europe to you. Think of it as a promotion,” he said.
“I… thank you,” Smith said.
“Obviously it will involve some travel,” Spencer said. “In fact, I was hoping that you two would leave tomorrow for the office in Paris. Provide some oversight, let them know that we’re still paying attention. And see the sights, of course.”
Her jaw dropped. Paris wasn’t part of her plan, but how could she say no?
Spencer winked at her, even as Smith scowled.
“We won’t have time for sightseeing,” Smith said.
“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Spencer said, waving. “You’ll figure it out.”
Spencer turned to Cameron. “You’d be willing to go, wouldn’t you?”
“I… I mean, of course,” she said, her cheeks turning pink.
“Have you been before?”
“No, but I have a passport,” she replied.
“Good. You’ll be paid time and a half for your entire trip,” Spencer said.
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
She felt Smith’s eyes on her, demanding something from her, but she had no idea what that might be. Spencer leaned back in his seat and grinned.
“All right, that’s all. You’d both better head home and start packing.”
“Thank you,” she said again, getting up and following Smith out.
They made it to the elevators before he rounded on her, lecturing her in a whisper.
“Do us both a favor. Email my father right now, and tell him you’re sorry but you can’t take the assignment.”
“What? Why?” she whispered back.
His eyes flashed with anger.
“Because you can’t handle international travel,” he said, stepping into the elevator. “It’s going to be a lot of long hours and close quarters.”
She arched a brow, crossing her arms. “And?”
He reached out and pressed the STOP button on the elevator panel, and they lurched to a halt.
“And I, for one, want this trip to be entirely professional.”
“Are you saying that I am not professional?”
“It’s all well and good for you to run around here in your stockings,” he said, pinning her with his gaze. “Yes, I did fucking notice them, so well done on that account. But my father just put me in charge of Europe, which he’s never even talked about before. I’m not going to let him down by staring at you rather than working.”
“All I’m hearing is how you are going to be adversely affected by us working together,” Cameron said, narrowing her eyes. “It was one night! Just one night. Surely you can forget it.”
Smith stepped closer, caging her in a corner. “Of course I can. I’m worried that you can’t.”
She lifted her chin, determined not to lose her position now. She raised a finger, ready to chastise him.
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself,” she said, poking him in the chest.
He grabbed her hand, and the contact ran through her like an electric shock. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that made her body react, but every time they touched it was like being connected with a live wire.
For a second, they stood like that. Smith holding her hand, Cam looking indignant. Both of them so close together, mere inches separated them.
Cam saw him break first, his gaze slipping down to her lips. She licked them nervously, and wondered if he’d lean in, maybe kiss her.
Then he stepped back, dropping her hand, and shook his head.
“Fine,” he said, pressing the STOP button again. “Don’t come crying to me when this doesn’t play out like you want it to, though.”
“How exactly do you think I want this to play out?” she hissed.
He frowned, and she didn’t say anything else. When the elevator doors opened, she got off, but he didn’t.
“See you tomorrow,” she said.
He merely cocked a brow and pressed the down button. The doors closed in her face.
Cam exhaled. That was who she would have to put up with for the duration of her trip to Paris, apparently.
Straightening her back, she went to go get her things. She had a trip to prepare for.
5
Smith sat in his seat to the rear of the Calloway private jet, looking out at the clouds and brooding. He refused to look at Cameron, who was sitting in a rear-facing seat closer to the front, reading a Parisian guidebook and pointedly ignoring him.
He’d arrived on the tarmac hoping that she might rethink her argument, that she might not show up at all. Yet as soon as he had climbed the stairs of the private jet, he’d seen her putting her personal things in the overhead bin.
She was wearing the same kind of outfit that would fit in at the office, a modest light blue dress with little triangles printed all over it. And of course she was wearing stockings with garters, which he saw when she checked the overhead bin for a blanket.
He’d trudged on the plane without a word. He could feel her eyes on him. He imagined she was probably disgruntled about the fact that she was all dressed up while he wore jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. Nobody said that she needed to dress up, though.
Now that they were airborne, he was staring out the window and wondering what to do with her. It wasn’t as if he was a creep who always fantasized about his secretaries. No, it was her specifically.
The problem, essentially, was that every time she opened her mouth, he kept thinking of how her skin tasted, of how she'd cried out as he'd fucked her. She might be asking him if he wanted some coffee, but his brain was flashing images of her underneath his body, of the way her fantastic ass jiggled a little as he’d fucked her from behind.