A Passionate Love Read online

  Tugging on his tie, Cameron trudged down the hallway to his loft with a couple of folders tucked under his arm. He might do a little work later.

  He spoke to Simone before he left the club to let her know he was on his way, and the call had been interesting, to say the least. She’d sounded extremely excited, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on.

  He turned the key in the lock and entered the loft, and paused on the threshold. He noticed the difference right away. Behind him, the door snicked closed, and he walked slowly into the condo. The old furniture was gone, and the entire space had been transformed with the items he and Simone had picked out at the outlet store.

  “Surprise!” Simone rushed down the staircase in skin-tight designer jeans and a fuchsia silk blouse, her grin broad and eyes bright. “You came home too early. I ordered a late dinner so it could be here waiting for you, but you beat me to it.” She threw her arms wide with a flourish. “Ta-dah! What do you think?”

  Cameron scanned the room, noting the leather furniture, the purple chaise, and all the other tables and chairs they’d chosen in the outlet showroom, as well as the lighting and items from the other two stores. Not only that, she’d added tasteful additions, like potted plants, knickknacks, and pictures on the walls.

  “What did you do with my old stuff?” he asked.

  “Adele is working on selling everything, so you’ll get money for all the old pieces. But all the new items you looked at and liked are here, plus a few extras.” She bounced up and down on her stilettos, mighty pleased with herself. She pressed her hands together like someone about to pray. “Notice anything missing?”

  His heart stopped. “Where is my record collection?”

  “Don’t panic. It’s right here.” She walked over to a new piece of furniture that his turntable sat on top of. “It’s an Atocha cabinet. Walnut finished. All the records are packed in and organized for you by genre and artist name.”

  Cameron rubbed his forehead. Atocha was top of the line. On the low end, a small cabinet cost anywhere from four to five thousand dollars. With all the drawers of this model, it must have cost almost twice as much.

  Cameron tossed his keys and the folders in his hand onto the steel table. “What are you doing?”

  Simone’s smile faltered. “I don’t know what you mean.” She appeared genuinely confused.

  “You know exactly what I mean. You spent a bunch of money I didn’t ask you to spend.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “What’s the big deal? They’re gifts. I can afford it.”

  “And I can’t?”

  Her mouth fell open. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I can buy my own furniture, Simone.”

  Her shoulders straightened and she placed a hand on her hip. “So you don’t want anything from me, is that it?”

  “That’s not the point. Buying all my furniture is too much. What were you thinking? I told you I would get it myself.”

  “But you hadn’t, so I thought…I thought maybe…” Her voice faltered again.

  “You thought I couldn’t afford it,” Cameron supplied, his lips drawn tight.

  She swallowed. “It’s just furniture.”

  “It’s not just furniture. It’s thousands of dollars that you didn’t even think twice about spending because you thought I couldn’t afford to buy what I needed for myself.” One hand clenched into a fist.

  “I can’t believe you’re arguing with me over a gift,” Simone said.

  “You’re not even listening to me, are you? Because you’re too busy thinking about what you have to say before I finish.”

  Her lips parted and her face took on the shocked appearance of someone who’d been slapped. “You don’t have to act like a dick, Cam. I was trying to do something nice for you.”

  “No, you’re treating me like one of your charity cases.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “No? So replacing my old furniture with new furniture is not charity? Buying me shoes and a tuxedo, so I could look presentable at the event I escort you to, is not charity?”

  “We’re in a relationship, and I invited you to the fundraiser, so it made sense that I would pay for your clothes. It was a very important event. You can’t go in any old tux. People would talk.”

  “And who could forget those cufflinks.”

  “Why do you hate them so much? They’re perfectly good cufflinks,” she said, sounding defensive.

  “Why does anyone need eighteen karat gold cufflinks finished with dinosaur bone, Simone? Dinosaur bone!” When he’d researched them, he discovered they cost more than twice what he’d originally thought.

  The quiet in the room dragged out between them. Neither he nor Simone spoke. Neither made a move or a sound.

  Finally, Simone cleared her throat. “If it’ll make you feel better, then you can pay me back for the furniture,” she said quietly.

  Cameron stalked over to his desk and pulled out the checkbook. He dated and signed a check and then walked over to Simone and extended it to her. “Fill in the amount.”

  Simone took the check, the excitement long gone from her face and replaced with uncertainty. “So that’s it? I should keep my filthy money to myself?” she asked.

  “There’s nothing wrong with your money.”

  “I just can’t spend it on you.”

  Cameron heaved out a breath. “I can afford nice things, but I can’t buy the things you can.”

  “I never asked you to, but none of that matters because my money makes you uncomfortable.”

  He felt like crap. Because he was hurting her and because he felt like he could never measure up. “Simone—”

  “I’ll stop. I won’t do it anymore,” she said.

  “Then you’ll be changing who you are.”

  “So what do you want me to do? I don’t have to buy these things. I don’t have to have these things. I don’t need them. I can still do my work without all the extras.”

  Like her mother had said, she was willing to give up her life of luxury. For him.

  “You’d be unhappy. Can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t miss your designer clothes and twice-a-year trips to the Amalfi Coast?”

  She bit her lip. “I would make do.”

  Cameron scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “I don’t want you to make do, sweetheart. I don’t want you to be miserable because of me. I don’t want you to settle.”

  “I’m not settling.”

  “You deserve to be—”

  “Are you breaking up with me?”

  Cameron paused. His body immediately rejected the thought, his gut and neck tightening to the point of discomfort. But they came from different worlds. “I think we need a break. To think.”

  Simone took a shocked step back and pressed a hand to her chest. “Fine,” she said. “It’s funny, but when I set up this surprise, I wondered if you’d have a problem with the gifts. And you did. Huh. The Brooks women curse strikes again.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t worry. It doesn’t concern you,” she said bitterly. She picked up her purse from a bookcase against the brick wall. “The food will be here soon. I already paid for it, so how do you want to handle that? Do you want to give me cash, or should I just add it to the balance on the check?”

  “Now you’re trying to be funny.”

  “No, absolutely not. I don’t want to insult your delicate—” She stopped abruptly and tensed when he stepped toward her but didn’t move away. She looked up at him in defiance.

  “I’m not delicate,” Cameron said quietly.

  Simone unsnapped her purse and pulled out a few large bills. “Whenever I stayed here, I used your electricity and water.” She dug into her purse again, and pulled out another handful of bills. “A few more just to be safe.” She tossed hundreds of dollars on the table. “That should cover everything. Since we’re on a break, then I’ll attend the events in Miami alone. That should give us both enough time to think abo
ut our relationship and decide if it’s worth the hassle. Fair enough? Have a good night.”

  She marched toward the door.

  “Dammit, Simone.” Cameron went after her and slammed his palm on the door so she couldn’t leave. “I haven’t seen you in days. You don’t have to leave.”

  She swung around, her face taut and angry. “Yes, I do. I have to leave because you’re right, this isn’t working. I have to think, too. If I want to deal with this. If I want everything I do for you to be picked apart. If I want to be accused of being something I’m not by someone who says he loves me. A snob. A bitch. Whatever it is you’re thinking about me.” Her voice cracked a little, but she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “So yes, Cam, I have to go. Because we both have a lot to think about.”

  They stared at each other for a bit longer. Then, slowly, Cameron let his hand slide away.

  Simone left and hauled the door closed, and it hit the doorframe with a thunderous clap that shook the walls and echoed in the loft.

  In answer, Cameron slammed his hand against the wall and let out an angry roar of frustration.

  Chapter 20

  Simone left the podium to thunderous applause. Her speech summarizing the Johnson Foundation’s accomplishments during the first quarter of the year was a big hit, confirming to donors and volunteers that the money was not only managed well, but spent on worthwhile causes.

  She made her way toward the back of the ballroom, stopping every so often to shake hands and nod and pose for photographs. Eventually, she reached the double doors and exited into the hallway, away from the noise and din of the party. She slipped her phone from her purse and checked the screen. She’d received several phone calls, but none of them from Cameron.

  She bit back her disappointment and smiled at a male donor as he went into the room, but the smile immediately disappeared once he was gone.

  Tonight was a huge event, with plenty of media coverage. Upon arrival, wearing a crimson Oscar de la Renta flowing dress that left her arms and shoulders bare and looped around her neck in an asymmetrical design, Simone had done the obligatory twirl on the red carpet for photographers before joining her mother at their reserved table. The speeches were over, and the hired musicians played soft music in the background as guests talked and sipped champagne.

  Normally, this was her element, but she felt unusually alone tonight.

  Instead of wallowing in self-pity, she remembered the goals she intended to accomplish while in Miami. Over the next couple of days, she had important meetings scheduled, including one with representatives from a local children’s organization to discuss how the Johnson Foundation could help them achieve their objective of ensuring that every child is healthy, housed, educated, and safe.

  “Simone, what are you doing out here?”

  Simone stiffened at the sound of her mother’s voice.

  She turned and faced Sylvie, whose tightly compressed lips effectively communicated her disapproval. Simone flashed a smile. “Hi, Mother.”

  Sylvie appeared the epitome of refinement, effecting a statuesque pose with one hand on her hip in black heels and a short-sleeved Chanel dress that skirted the floor. The décolleté gown offered a glimpse of cleavage and the belted waist showed off her trim figure, which rivaled women half her age. Her voluminous hair, even thicker and longer than Simone’s, was piled into a tight but intricate design atop her head and held together with diamond-studded pins.

  Simone tossed her phone into her clutch. “Did you need something?” she asked.

  “One of the administrators for the children’s hospital had questions I couldn’t answer, so I came looking for you. You’re the face of the foundation at this event, so it’s important that you mingle and answer questions. You should not be sneaking off to have private conversations. I think that can wait, don’t you?”

  It was truly amazing how her mother could smile through any conversation. An onlooker would never guess that she was scolding her daughter.

  The last thing Simone needed was for her mother to tell her how to do her job. She knew very well how to do her job, and did it well.

  “Thank you for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Is everything all right?” her mother asked.

  Simone sighed and swallowed past the tightness in her throat. Staring at her purse, she said, “It’s Cameron. We’re on a break.”

  “Oh?”

  “I bought him some gifts and he got very upset and basically let me know he didn’t want anything from me. He started talking about how I was settling and he couldn’t afford trips to the Amalfi—” Simone screeched to a halt and looked up at her mother. “Wait a minute, I never told him I took trips to the Amalfi Coast, yet somehow he knew.”

  “Oh?”

  Simone’s eyes widened. “Mother.”

  “Simone—”

  She took a couple of steps toward her mother. In a low voice, she asked, “What did you do?”

  Sylvie’s chin upticked and she sniffed, her face a portrait of complete unrepentance. “I simply went by to talk to the young man, to see where his head is. That’s all.”

  Simone pressed a hand to her forehead. “That explains why he overreacted.”

  “Was it really an overreaction, or was that the truth? You can’t hide from it, darling. If you want to get married, you must be with someone who understands you. Understands us.”

  “You had no right to talk to him,” Simone hissed. She could have choked her mother in that moment, but matricide was a crime.

  Right then, her father strolled through the door, looking rather dapper in a tux, the loose curls on his head trimmed and tamed, with only a small swatch of gray near the front.

  “I was looking for you.” He held a bottle of the family’s Full Moon beer in his right hand. His gaze flicked from Simone to her mother and back again, and he touched his free hand to her arm. “Everything all right?”

  “Of course everything is all right, Oscar,” Sylvie snapped, her mood immediately changed. Only with her ex-husband did Sylvie ever allow the cool mask of composure to slip. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Oh hell. This was the first time Simone had seen them together in years, and the enmity flaming between them hadn’t diminished one iota.

  “I was talking to my daughter.” Oscar’s eyes flicked over Sylvie, lingering a fraction too long at her breasts, before a muscle in his jaw flexed and he met her glowering stare with one of his own.

  “Why don’t you go back and entertain your lady friend?” Sylvie asked.

  “My lady friend is fine without me.”

  “Really?” She examined her fingernails. “I wouldn’t want her to feel out of place. It must be so confusing for someone of her age and profession to be thrust into such an environment. I’m sorry, what does she do again? She’s a waitress or a hostess?” Sylvie actually sounded concerned, but they all knew better.

  “It’s none of your business what she does. The fact that she wasn’t born with a silver spoon in her mouth is enough to make you prejudge her.”

  “I never prejudge. I make observations.”

  “You make assumptions based on your twisted world view.”

  “I draw conclusions based on past experience and observations. For instance, I observe that you wouldn’t be here with your flavor of the month if you were never married to me. Thanks to a lovely settlement you can afford to hob knob with the rich and famous and pretend you’re a lot more important so you can impress your teenaged girlfriend.”

  “She’s not a teenager!” Oscar said, sounding appalled.

  “Mother, please. Be nice for once.” Listening to her parents quarrel was like being a child all over again.

  Sylvie flashed her eyes at Simone. “Nice?” She returned her gaze to Oscar and her face hardened. “Why should I be nice, when your father is being so disrespectful to me? Did you have to bring your girlfriend here? Is this your way of trying to embarrass me?”

  “For heaven’
s sake, Sylvie, the world doesn’t revolve around you. I didn’t even know you were coming this year until Simone told me. I had already bought the tickets.”

  “From now on, assume I’ll be in attendance, and keep your adolescent girlfriends far away from me and this event.” Sylvie tipped her chin higher. “Simone, I will see you inside. Please remember why you’re here.” She stalked off into the ballroom.

  Oscar growled low in his throat and marched away from the door, his shoulders rigid with anger. Simone followed behind him.

  He swung around and jabbed a hand toward the open door. “That woman is the devil. One of these days. One of these days…” He growled again and contracted his fingers into the universal sign of choking someone.

  Oscar ran a hand over his hair, his khaki-colored skin flushed red with anger. “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Fine.” Simone looped an arm through his and leaned on him. “Stop letting her get to you.”

  “Hard not to.” He cursed under his breath. Letting out a puff of frustrated air, he ran a hand down his face, weathered from spending time out on his boat, one of his favorite pastimes.

  “Can we talk for a bit? I need your advice. Let’s sit.” Simone steered him down the carpeted hall. “I can’t believe you’re drinking the family beer.”

  “Why not? It’s good stuff.” Her father shrugged. “I still eat at the pub occasionally, too, if you can believe that.”

  They stopped at an antique settee, and Simone lowered onto the floral fabric. Her father followed suit.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  Simone crossed her legs. “I’m seeing someone. His name is Cameron and it’s serious—or was, until right before I came here and he said he thought we should take a break.”

  “Let me guess. He doesn’t have the right pedigree.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Does your mother know?”

  “Unfortunately, I think she may have meddled and caused some of the problem.”