Page 82 of Flirt
Ignoring him, Cameron nodded at his assistant. “It’s okay, Amelia. I’ll handle this.”
“Handle what?” Asher barked.
“I’m going to have to call you back.” Holding Kyle’s gaze, he rose to his feet, but remained safely out of reach behind his desk.
“Cameron.” Blatant warning bled into Asher’s tone.
“I’ll see you later.” He couldn’t be more specific than that, not with Kyle in the room. “I have to go.”
“Don’t you dare fucking hang—”
Cameron disconnected the call, but kept his phone in his hand, just in case. Asher was going to completely losehis shit, but he couldn’t worry about that just then. “Hello, Kyle. Please, sit.”
Kyle shook his head, his lank, brown strands swishing over his bony shoulders. “Like I said, this won’t take long.”
“Okay. What can I do for you?” It wouldn’t do anyone any good if he launched himself across his desk and punched the asshole in the face. Or so he kept telling himself.
Keep calm. Stay in control.
Kyle paced, short, jerky strides that had his baggy jeans sliding down his hips. “Tell your boyfriend things have changed.” His hands clenched and unfurled, and he continued shaking his head as he spoke. Dude was twitchy as fuck. “He has three days to get me the money.”
“You know you can’t tell anyone about him without revealing things about yourself. Is that what you really want?”
Kyle stopped pacing and pinned him with a heated glare. “No one gives a shit about what I did. No one cares who I am. Not yet anyway.”
“So, this really is all about the money.”
“This is about me!” Kyle exploded, thumping a fist against his chest. “Why does he get to have it all? What about me? While he was off selling a million books and getting rich, where do you think I was?”
Judging by his distress, Cameron would guess it had been no place good. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”He truly did hate what had been done to all the boys Mitchell Faraday had used and manipulated. “That wasn’t Asher’s fault, though.”
“Ashley! His fucking name is Ashley!” Extending his index finger, he pointed it at Cameron. “You don’t just bury that shit and pretend like it never happened. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Some wounds ran too deep to ever fully heal. In that moment, Cameron understood that no amount of money would ever erase the scars of Kyle’s past. Oh, he wanted the money, but more than that, he wanted the world to know his story. He wanted everyone to understand how he’d suffered. Like the other seven billion people on the planet, he wanted someone toseehim, to love him, even for just a little while.
“I know,” Cameron said, his tone quiet, soothing. “The things that happened to you weren’t your fault. You don’t have to do this, Kyle.”
“You’re wrong.”
Cameron shook his head. “I can help you. Let me help you.”
“You can’t help me.” Piece by piece, Kyle put himself back together until he mostly resembled a confident, assertive man. “Three days. He knows how to reach me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Asher still couldn’t believeCameron had hung up on him.
He’d been tempted to drive across town and storm into the man’s office to make sure he hadn’t been kidnapped or murdered. Natalie, however, had insisted that might be interpreted as slightly crazy.
Thankfully, he’d only had to wait fifteen torturous minutes before Cameron had texted him to say he was okay, and that Asher should meet him at his place later. No details. No explanation. Crazy had started to sound pretty damn good at that point.
Instead, he’d dropped Natalie off at her car, driven home, packed an overnight bag—laptop included—and did as he’d been told by driving to Cameron’s house in Mission Grove. He had even stopped to pick up deli sandwiches and brownies on the way.
Despite his many detours, he still managed to arrive before Cameron.
Asher let himself in, growling obscenities under his breath the entire time about the lack of security. As always, Cameron hadn’t even locked his damn door. Anyone could walk right in off the street. Asher had made a career pondering the what-ifs of life, and his imaginationsupplied enough scenarios to that unlocked door to fill one of his long-winded books.
So, by the time he heard Cameron pull into the driveway just after sunset, Asher had abandoned reason and worked himself up to one hell of a mad. He didn’t give a damn if Cameron had known every person in town for most of his life. He didn’t care if the crime rate for Mission Grove was practically non-existent.
