The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(57)

“I know, but if you accidentally make a key lime tart or two, I promise I won’t tell.”

Nicholas grinned. “Don’t get me in trouble.”

“It’s our little secret.”

She winked at me. I smiled back, then took my protein shake upstairs to get ready for work.





Cameron’s schedule was packed, as usual, which kept me busy. I shadowed her as she went about her day and checked the security feeds from her house regularly. We were keeping things strictly professional in her office. Nothing but occasional lingering eye contact and a stolen kiss or two. The people in Cameron’s personal life knew about us, and she’d told Brandy. But as far as everyone else at Spencer knew, I was still just Cameron’s personal security.

She’d been in her office for about an hour when the back of my neck tingled. I shifted my shoulders to rub my collar against it. That was odd. It was rare that something riled up my instincts here in Cameron’s office. I still got the subtle sense that she was in danger, but that was a feeling I’d relegated to the background. It wasn’t exactly useful at this point—we already knew.

But her office was reasonably safe. I stayed with her during the day because she often had meetings and appointments off-site, and to send the message that she was well-protected.

My top four exit strategies ran through my mind like a reflex.

Noelle Olson walked into the office, dressed in a cream blouse with a wide collar and navy slacks. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek bun, making her high-cheekboned face look particularly severe. I’d been in meetings with most of Spencer’s executive team, and where the rest of them were cordial, Noelle pretended like I didn’t exist.

She paused near my desk and glanced toward Cameron’s half-open door. She was walking slowly around her office on a phone call. Brandy shifted to the edge of her seat, poised to intercept Noelle if she tried to walk in on her boss unannounced.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Noelle?” Brandy asked.

Noelle gave Brandy an annoyed glance. “I’ll come back.”

I watched her walk down the hall toward her office. Her dislike of Cameron was well-known. Everyone from accounting to the engineers to the receptionists knew the COO had wanted Cameron’s job. The apparently random nature of the threats against Cameron could be Noelle’s way of keeping suspicion at bay. Who would assume a high-level executive would leave a fish in her rival’s bed?

It was tempting to follow Noelle to her office and ask a few well-placed questions. But my instincts told me it was better if I stayed Cameron’s invisible bodyguard—just the muscle—for now.

“Bobby, you can’t just go back there.”

The front receptionist followed Bobby through the small hallway behind the reception desk. He wore dark sunglasses—the Dolce & Gabanna logo on full display—a polo that said Versace across the front, and a belt with a large gold Gucci logo for a buckle. The only thing that didn’t declare its designer—and therefore its expense—were his shoes, a pair of black leather sneakers.

I glanced again. I was wrong. They were embossed with a Fendi logo on the toe. It was surprisingly subtle, considering the rest of his clothes looked like a commercial for lifestyles of the gaudy and pretentious.

“Sorry,” the receptionist said.

“It’s okay,” Brandy said, and scowled at Bobby when he casually leaned against her desk.

“What’s the boss lady up to?” he asked. Like the douche he was, he didn’t take off his sunglasses.

“She’s busy,” Brandy said.

I couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but I could tell when he glanced at me. He swallowed and rubbed his palms against his thighs. I made him nervous. Good.

“No big deal. Just be a doll and put dinner with me on her schedule for tonight.”

“Her schedule’s full,” I said.

I could see Bobby at war with himself. He was used to feeling like the alpha here. Not that it was true, but most people in his father’s company tried to stay out of his way rather than stand up to him. I challenged his perceived dominance.

But unlike a true alpha male, he was weak—protected by wealth and his last name, with nothing to back up his unearned swagger.

Would he argue with me in an attempt to reestablish his dominance, or back down?

My money was on back down, but you never knew with a guy like him.

Cameron came out of her office and crossed her arms. Her legs looked fantastic in her sleek skirt and her snakeskin heels made her look like the badass she was.

“Cami,” he said, swiping off his sunglasses. “You’re looking especially hot today.”

“Bobby, I have a company to run. If you’re here to invite me to party with you, the answer is no. And if you just came up here to brag about last night’s ten-thousand-dollar bottle service, save it for your Instagram followers.”

“My fans do love my club pics,” he said. “But that’s not why I’m here. I heard somebody broke into your house.”

A hint of alarm flashed across Cameron’s face, replaced quickly by her calm and cool CEO expression. “Where did you hear that?”

He pulled out his phone. “It’s on a couple of blogs. You’d think it would have had better coverage by now. That’s a bold move, getting into Bluewater and breaking into your house like that. Guy must have some balls.”