Hot Commodity (Banks / Kincaid Family #1)(18)

But Olivia didn’t care. "As long as my mother doesn’t find out we’re married in that time, we’re safe."

Cameron eyed at her strangely. "What’d you say her name was again?"

She sighed and pressed a hand to her suddenly aching head. "Vivian Helbrock-Donovan-Roark."

Sucking the side of his cheek in between his teeth with a thoughtful expression, Cameron shook his head. "I can’t place the name. I seriously don’t think I’ve ever met her."

"Then you probably haven’t. If you’d ever run across her, you’d

remember it. She’s not a forgettable woman."

"Okay, so I’ve never met her, yet she wants me to marry her daughter?" Cameron shook his head. "I don’t—you honestly can’t think I believe that?"

Tired of trying to help him comprehend something she didn’t fully understand herself, Olivia stood and glanced at his cell phone. "It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re going to get us annulled, and in six weeks this’ll all be over. May I borrow your phone to give her a call and see if she’s still at the hotel? As mad as she’ll be about me skipping out on her last night, she’ll probably try to leave me in Las Vegas."

*

Cameron’s jaw dropped. "Your mother’s trying to sell you off to some man she’s never met—and you want to go back to her?"

Olivia looked at him sharply. He could tell she didn’t like him dragging the truth right out into the open. But, tough. He wanted answers.

She stood unmoving and stiff. "I don’t have anyone else to call," she admitted from reluctant, unmoving lips.

He frowned. "What about your dad?"

She snorted. "Trust me, if he was alive, he’d be just as bad as her."

That answer caught him off guard. Experiencing a pang of sympathy he wasn’t prepared to feel for this mouthy little Twinkie, Cameron paused. He wondered if he should express condolences. Her father might’ve passed away recently.

Fearing he’d only make her cry again if he told her he was sorry for her loss, he was about to give up interrogating her when he remembered what his pursuit was all about. The woman had just spent a good twenty minutes telling him how awful her mom was. And here, she was the first person his wife wanted to call. It punched all sorts of holes in the very foundation of the already-shaky story she’d just fed him.

"And you have no other family?" he asked. "Friends?"

For a moment, she looked very alone. He suddenly wanted to reach out and tell her—what? There was nothing he could do for her if she wanted to hightail it back to her mom.

"There’s no one," she bit out from between clenched teeth.

"Lady, you are unbelievable." He shook his head sadly. "You just sat there and convinced me your mom was Satan incognito and now you want to go back to her? I’m sorry, but I don’t get it."

"You don’t have to get it. You don’t know me or my mother, okay? You don’t know what she’s capable of—"

"And yet you want to crawl right back into her clutches?"

"Look, I tried to rebel and failed, okay? I’m just not cut out for a life of defiance."

"Defiance?" he sputtered. "Just how old are you? Twelve? Since when have grown women reverted back to the dark ages and let their parents

control their lives?"

Her scowl told him he’d hit a nerve. But her calm words said, "It’s safer this way. Trust me. I—"

"Oh, well, now you’re freaking me out," Cameron said, feeling a cold chill of dread race down his spine. The woman wasn’t scared of her mother, was she? "What exactly is she going to do to you, Olivia? Because if you seriously think she’ll hurt you—"

"No! It’s nothing like that."

Her answer came a little too quick for his comfort. "Then what is it?"

Olivia glowered. Remaining stubbornly closed-mouthed about the relationship she had with her sole provider, she muttered, "Will you just let me call her?"

Cameron lifted his eyebrows and handed her the phone. "Knock yourself out, honey. Far be it from me to try to help my wife."

He hadn’t been much help to the last Mrs. Banks either.

Feeling a swell of bitterness, he spun away and strode from the room. Stupid little twit. He didn’t want to lend her a hand anyway. Helping others had only resulted in giving him eternal heartache. He was an idiot to think he could assist her with—

Ah, hell. Never mind. It wasn’t worth it.

Cameron stalked through the house until he entered a room already occupied. As he stepped into the family den, he found Leah sitting cross-legged on the floor playing building blocks with her four-year old son.

He paused to study the pair for a moment. When she’d married Devin, Leah wanted a big family, but the doctors thought she wouldn’t even be able to have one baby. After a bad miscarriage, she lost an ovary, and a future full of children in their home looked bleak. But three years of marriage and a load of medical consultations later, little Aiden had finally entered Leah and Devin’s life. And now their little ankle-biter was four.

A pang of loneliness speared through him as he watched mother and son play quietly in the simple task of stacking block upon block. He suddenly missed his childhood and the easy, simple life he’d lived once upon a time with his parents and older sister. He missed being the jokester, the happy-go-lucky clown who found humor in everything and could make even the most sober of people smile with his bright, engaging charisma.