Crow’s Row (31 page)

“Did you talk to Cameron about Griff yet?” I asked Rocco, trying to sound as cool as possible.

“Yeah. I talked to him about it last night.”

“And?”

“And nothing. Cameron said the same thing I did. Griff is being stupid—no one’s going to kill him or anything like that. I’m the one who screwed up, not Griff.” His voice was slightly bitter.

“One of the guards told me he was gone,” I mentioned innocently in passing.

“I know,” he admitted. “Griff was sent away yesterday.”

I wondered if sent away was a code for … something else. “Why would he be sent away if shooting yourself in the foot was your fault?”

“Because he doesn’t follow anyone’s orders. I guess him breaking into your room was kind of the last straw.”

I was mortified. “You told Cameron that Griff climbed into my room!”

“No, I didn’t!” Rocco whimpered. “They already knew. Spider caught Griff climbing down.”

I knew this couldn’t be good.

“Where was Griff sent away to?” I asked, acting as casual as I could.

“Cameron found him another job with one of his distributors.”

“And you believe him?” I questioned, too quickly—what was I insinuating?

He looked at me strangely. “Why wouldn’t I believe him? That’s a stupid question.”

I left it alone. Rocco was getting upset, and so was I.

After a while, the patio door opened. Spider and Carly walked right to the pool house, completely ignoring Rocco and me. A short while later, Cameron also appeared and tensely sat on the edge of the lounge chair.

He surveyed me.

“What’s on your arm?” It had sounded like an accusation.

“Rash,” Rocco explained for me, thankfully.

Cameron continued to stare at my arm with suspicion. I swam away, grabbing the piece of bandage that floated by and throwing it at Rocco.

He mumbled a curse, stumbled out of the pool, and hopped on one leg back into the house to go fix his foot.

From the opposite end of the pool I was suddenly brave. “Why didn’t you tell me Spider saw Griff climb out of my room?”

“Why didn’t
you
tell me that Griff climbed into your room?”

“You weren’t in a good mood, and I didn’t want to get him in trouble. He was already pretty scared,” I answered right away.

“He didn’t follow orders. He had reason to be scared.”

His voice chilled me and I was less brave now. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Cameron chewed on his answer. “You and this Griff fellow seemed to have grown … close over the past few weeks. What you and he were up to in your room is none of my business. I won’t stop you from being with who you want to be with. What I can’t have is an employee who refuses to follow my orders.”

It had all sounded too rehearsed.

“You think that Griff and I were doing
something
up in my room?”

“Like I said, you can be with whoever you want, and I’m sure the two of you probably have a lot in common. I still have a job to do and that includes keeping you safe. We have rules for a reason around here and someone who doesn’t follow rules is a danger to you and the rest of us.”

I tried to push my family’s history of adultery out of my head. “Do you really think that I would kiss you and turn to someone else on the same night? What kind of person do you take me for?”

“That thing last night—”

“That
thing
?” I should have braced myself, but I never got the chance.

“The kiss was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything. I was really tired and you were drinking … It should have never happened. Let’s forget about it.”

I couldn’t tell if he had meant his words; his expression, his tone were so well hidden behind the mask. It didn’t matter much. The words had already done their damage, leaving a deep gash in their path.

I took a long, ragged breath.

“But … you told me you loved me,” I argued, my voice barely a whisper.

“No. I never said that,” he reminded me coldly.

My heart was already plastered with wounds; most were mended, the rest were well calloused scars. I doubted the one that Cameron had freshly carved would ever fully heal. It had reached my core. What I didn’t know yet was that everything had started to harden around my broken heart again—a well-practiced reflex.

I could hardly breathe, could hardly hold on. I pulled myself out of the pool and wrapped a towel tightly around me.

“Just so you know,” I told him, my voice shaking, “Griff and I didn’t do anything. We talked. Well, he talked mostly, and I listened.”

“What did he talk about?”

“He thought that you were going to kill him,” I spilled, eying him to see whether I would be able to figure out the truth from his face.

He didn’t flinch.

“He also told me that I should be scared of you. That you were going to kill me too,” I fired back, hoping it would hurt someone else for once.

Cameron cruelly remained unchanged. “And you believe that?”

I had no answer to give him.

I walked away.

I held on while I climbed the first staircase. I still held on as I made it up the second staircase. When I was safely concealed behind Cameron’s bedroom door, I let it go, let myself fall apart. Cameron … Griff … Cameron … it was all too much. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

 Chapter Seventeen:
 Different Worlds

I didn’t want to open my eyes. I could feel the warmth of the sun on my face—which was the last thing I wanted. Why couldn’t it just rain today? Part of me wished that I would open my eyes and find myself back in my tiny room in Callister, living an ordinary life where people like Cameron remained unseen and definitely unfelt. But the other part, that bigger part again, knew that I didn’t want to go back to my former life, no matter what mean things Cameron Hillard could find to say to me. I threw the blanket over my head with the hopes that if I waited in the darkness long enough, clouds would come, to match my mood. But I could feel the bed shake as Meatball was wagging his tail wildly. He knew that I was awake now.

“Not yet, Meatball, please …” I whined.

“You’re going to have to get up eventually.” I didn’t have to pull the blankets away to know that it was Cameron. I hadn’t heard him come in, yet there he was. “Anyway, Meatball won’t go back to sleep if he knows you’re up.”

His chilled tone hadn’t improved. It was going to be another one of those days. I stayed hidden.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than watch me sleep?” I complained from under the blankets, trying to keep my voice as cool as his, even though my somersaulting heart had silently betrayed me. I hated that he had this kind of power.

Something thumped next to me. I peeked out—Cameron had thrown a shiny silver object at me. It was a cell phone—
my
cell phone.

“Call your mother,” he ordered.

Call my mother? That was probably the last thing I felt like doing in that moment. It was definitely not what I had ever expected Cameron to say. “Why?”

“She left you three messages. Sounded urgent.” His voice seemed unnecessarily guarded.

“You’ve been listening to my phone messages?” I didn’t know what made me more upset: the fact that he had totally violated my privacy, or the fact that I had probably only missed three calls—from my mother, nonetheless—since disappearing from the face of the earth and that Cameron now knew how pathetic my other life was.

He lifted one eyebrow and nudged me to pick up the phone. In order words, he wasn’t asking me to call my mother. Sighing, I climbed out of hibernation and picked up the phone. I went down the list of missed calls and found that my mother hadn’t been the only one who had called. I couldn’t help but casually bring this to Cameron’s attention.

“Looks like Jeremy called a bunch of times too. Did he leave any messages?” I feigned innocence.

He glowered in an affirmative response. The fact that my heart leapt at that precise moment had nothing to do with this Jeremy guy.

“And?” I continued, growing amused by his scowl.

“And nothing. He left a bunch of messages asking why you were mad at him … the guy sounds like a doorknob, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t know that doorknobs could talk.”

“They don’t. They just squeak and spin in a circle.”

I tried to not dignify his response with a further reply, but I just couldn’t contain myself. “So, I should probably call him back too, then. It might be urgent.”

He grinned even wider; like I had fallen for the trap—hook, line, and sinker. “No worries. He’ll never call you again.”

Horrific thoughts suddenly ran through my head. “Oh my God, Cameron! What did you do to him!”

Cameron eyed me, and his face contorted as he understood my meaning. “Definitely not what you apparently think I’m capable of.” He was offended. I was afraid that I had ruined his good mood—but he quickly regained his grin, antsy to finish his story. “I got Rocco to call this Jeremy guy last night and pretend to be calling from a hospital in … Sweden or Switzerland, I forget … I was laughing so hard … something about you having a highly contagious rash that made your ears swell up … that he should run to a hospital right away to get his ears checked.”

I couldn’t imagine Rocco pulling off any believable accent—but then again, Jeremy had probably been the vainest guy that I had ever met and the mere possibility that his ears could enlarge would have certainly distracted, devastated him.

“And Jeremy bought it?”

Cameron shrugged. “Like I said, your boyfriend’s a doorknob. Don’t know what you see in that guy.”

“He’s a nice and normal guy,” I emphasized, for his benefit. He winced. “Anyway, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Well he
was
, wasn’t he?” he urged dryly.

I narrowed my eyes. “What difference does it make?”

“It doesn’t,” Cameron responded abruptly. “Call your mother.” He had quickly regained control over himself.

I dialed my mother’s mobile number, and the line rang over and over. I hoped … and grimaced when she finally picked up. All hopes were dashed.

“Emily? Is that you, honey?” my mom almost sweetly asked.
Honey
? There were so many things wrong with that statement that I couldn’t even begin to analyze it.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Honey, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for the last two weeks.”

The fact that I’ve been kidnapped and I’m being held against my will by a gang of drug dealers in their million-dollar compound out in the middle of nowhere came to mind. “Er, sorry. I’ve been really busy. What’s up?” was what I actually said.

I could hear the clinging and clanging of dishes and silverware in the background. It was close to dinnertime in France.

“Well, you’ll never guess who we ran into.” Drumrolls played in my head as I paused for the incredible revelation. “Mr. and Mrs. Jacobsons. You remember them don’t you?”

No. “Uh-huh,” I lied to keep things simple and quick.

“Well, imagine the coincidence of them meeting us … here! And guess what,”—more drumrolls—“They brought their wonderful son Damien with them,” she gushed.

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yes, honey. What else is there?”

“Nothing,” I grumbled. “So what were you saying about the Jacobsons?”

Cameron had settled himself by the couch, leaning against the back and watching me with hilarity while my mom carried on about the Jacobsons and their son: they were pronounced to be such a good family, and Damien was absolutely delightful and well-bred and … not to mention that he was staked to succeed his father in taking over the family empire. I was biting my tongue a lot.

“I’ve been talking to Damien, and he is just dying to see you. How quickly can you catch a plane to come meet us?”

There it was—the reason for the niceties. The only time my mother was ever “motherly” was when she wanted something. The only time my mother spoke English to me and didn’t force me to speak French to her was when she was trying to impress someone who was listening. This time I assumed it was both. I couldn’t imagine what embellishments my mom had told Damien for him to be just dying to meet me. The truth was that I remembered Damien Jacobsons all too well. We were seven years old, and I had been forced to go to one of those stupid family picnics for one of my dad’s clients. Damien had decided it would be good fun to play connect the dots with my freckles—when I dared to protest, he stabbed me in the back of the arm with a pencil. I still had the scar to prove it. I doubted that someone like Damien Jacobsons would remember that small fact, but, unfortunately for him, I never forgot and I was really good at holding a grudge.

“Mom, Europe is just not an option right now and—” Cameron had curiously raised an eyebrow.