The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(4)
“Like what?” She took a bite of her food.
“I’m not sure. Lately I’ve been thinking about a food truck. Something I can manage with just a few people. What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m a new accounts manager at a bank.”
I nodded while I chewed a bite. She was right, the fish tacos were great. “Do you enjoy it?”
“Yeah, I do. I have really great coworkers.”
“You know, bank robberies are more common than people think. Modern security technology has helped quite a bit, but the criminals keep getting smarter. You make a better lock, bad guys learn how to pick it.”
She nodded slowly. “Oh. Yeah, I suppose so.”
“And police response times can be abysmal, especially with the traffic.”
“The traffic can be bad.”
“Did you know only twenty percent of bank robbers are caught?” I took another bite.
She paused with her water halfway to her mouth. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“The best thing to do when faced with multiple armed assailants is stay calm and don’t look them in the eyes. No matter how tightly organized they are, once a job gets going, tensions are high. They’re probably nervous, even paranoid. The last thing you want to do is call attention to yourself.”
“Oh.”
“The exception to that is if it looks like it’s turning into a hostage situation.” I gestured idly. “In that case, tell them you have a health condition and you’ll need your medication soon. The vast majority of the time, they won’t want that kind of complication and they’ll let you go. And you definitely want to get out as quickly as they’ll let you. Once hostages get involved, the chance of there being casualties increases dramatically. That goes for any kind of armed perpetrator situation, not just bank robberies.”
She stared at me, her face pale.
“I mean, that’s what I’ve heard,” I said, then cleared my throat.
Son of a bitch. I’d just scared the shit out of her with my rundown on how to handle an armed-robbery-turned-hostage situation.
It was no surprise that Karen picked at her meal for another few minutes, then thanked me and made an excuse about needing to feed her cat.
I finished my dinner alone, feeling like a dumbass. This was not the first time I’d made a date awkward. Like that time I’d explained how to dismantle a bomb on a second date. Or when my date had asked me about places I’d traveled, and I’d casually mentioned there were four or five countries where I was no longer welcome.
It was times like this that I thought maybe I was kidding myself about the whole live an ordinary life thing. I didn’t know if a guy like me could ever learn to be ordinary.
But I had to. Getting back in wasn’t an option. I knew where that life ended for most people. Or more importantly, when that life ended, and it was a lot sooner than I’d like. It was why I wanted to retire. I needed to put all the cloak and dagger shit behind me.
The truth was, I was tired of being alone. Tired of feeling like I couldn’t trust anyone. My handful of friends and acquaintances were fine, but I felt adrift. I wanted connection. Purpose.
Otherwise I was always going to be the odd loner with the past he couldn’t talk about.
2
Cameron
Form-fitting gold Versace gown. Check. Shimmering gold Louboutins. Check. My favorite sassy red lipstick. Check. Gin martini. Double check.
My dignity? That one was debatable.
Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling in the Biltmore Hotel ballroom. I glanced at the one above the silent auction tables, wondering how much it weighed and whether they’d had to retrofit reinforcements into the ceiling when it was installed. An odd line of thinking during a black-tie charity auction, perhaps, but that’s how my mind worked.
It wasn’t really the building’s structure that had me gazing up at the ceiling with a drink perched in my manicured hand. It was a very satisfying fantasy of the giant chandelier breaking free from its supports and crashing to the ground. Right on top of Aldrich Leighton. He wasn’t even here, and I was imagining his demise beneath a ton of crystal, glass, and metal.
“Cam?” Emily nudged me with her elbow. “Hello?”
Blinking, I tore my eyes away from the crystal monstrosity. Emily Stanton, one of my best friends and a biochemistry genius turned billionaire CEO, rocked her hot red dress like nobody’s business. Her blond hair was perfection and a pair of very tasteful diamond earrings sparkled in her ears.
“Sorry, I was just… thinking.”
She rubbed a hand up and down my arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” I took a sip of my martini as if to emphasize my okayness. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Emily opened her mouth to answer but Luna swept up, her big brown eyes shining. “Have you tried the vegan spanikopita? It’s to die for.”
“No, I’m sticking with gin.” I lifted my glass. “Clear fluids are good for you.”
Luna tilted her head, her long brown hair brushing her bare shoulders. Her white strapless dress practically glowed in the low light. Luna da Rosa—known as Moon to her closest friends—was a popular Instagram brand and the founder of Wild Hearts, a cruelty-free cosmetics company. Her big heart was my daily reminder to be a better person. Tonight that big heart seemed intent on mothering me.