Page 48 of Finesse
Belong.
To.
Me.
I’m horrified at the thought I belonged to Cameron and now that he owns me – both literally and figuratively, I’m legit scared for my life. I glance back up at Cameron and his face has a hint of a smirk. It’s not completely visible, but I know him. It’s there.
Cameron’s eyes are warm, yet I know his patience being on the other side of the door is running thin. Now that I know the truth, a conversation between us is inevitable. We both have questions but whether we’ll get answers is up for a debate.
Pushing a final air out of my lungs, I open the door and let Cameron in. His scent hits me like a Mack truck and I take a deep, longing inhale as it washes over me. He smells clean like soap, musk, and just plainman.
His scent possessed me, and it was both wholesome and demanding. My heart was full of regret, while my body was hanging on by a string. My nipples tighten to stiff peaks as my panties become damp withwant.
My brain is mad at me for even entertaining Cameron, but I had no choice. He was the one who sent the money and regardless how I feel about him, he’s entitled to any and all explanations.
I quickly lock the door behind Cameron and pull down all of the shades. No one has to see us. No one has to know about this…whatever the hell this is. What I do know, however, is I don’t like the underlying sexual tension that seemingly never left.
The ghosts of our past relationship swirled around us in a taunting and teasing manner as Cameron calmly pulled out a chair and sat down. He briefly looked around the shop in admiration, but he studied absolutely nothing.
He’d been here before.
Daddy never mentioned Cameron swinging by the shop, but he didn’t have to. Cameron could’ve visited when he knew my father wasn’t going to be around. Cameron blends in like any other rich white man who wants coffee; no one would’ve guessed who he was.
“Did you want something to drink?” I ask.
“A cappuccino.” He glances over at the dessert bar. “And also a biscuit with jam, if it’s still available.”
I knew it meant I had to turn everything back on and take out the coffee just to make Cameron’s cappuccino. He knew that as well. It was clear he wasn’t going anywhere and if I wanted Cameron to leave me alone, it was a small price to pay.
I turn on the machines and make Cameron’s coffee before I prepare the biscuit and jam. I walk over to Cameron and place the plate before him but it’s clear he’s wasting my time. He’s been looking at his phone while I’ve been working on his requests.
I go back to making the coffee and roll my eyes at the stupidity of it all. I knew cashing those damn checks were too good to be true. I thought it was just an angel donor or someone that wanted to see the shop still running. Now I know it was Cameron keeping tabs.
I don’t understand why. He could have any woman in the world. He’s wealthy and has D.C. connections; there isn’t a socialite in the world who wouldn’t love that. There are a dime a dozen coffee shops in East Atlanta; Fresh Espresso isn’tthatgood.
Once Cameron’s cappuccino is done, I walk back over to him and place it beside the biscuit plate. I take a chair and sit directly in front of him. I want to know what kind of game he’s trying to kick right now.
He’s wearing a V-neck shirt and jeans. On his feet are Jordans. His brown eyes are sparkling, as if he’s always up to no good, and he always is. His lips are moisturized and silently begging me to kiss them.
There’s nothing flashy about Cameron. No huge diamond studs or ice on his wrists or teeth. He only has a wristwatch and knowing Cameron, it’s probably top of the line expensive.
He may be quiet with his flash, but it’s notthatquiet with his money. He drives a modest BMW, if one could call those cars modest. He lives in a gated community in Buckhead, along with the other rich, white families.
It’s clear to see why the Feds left Cameron alone. He doesn’t look like a drug dealer. There’s nothing about he or his boys that screamwe’re the biggest drug cartel in East Atlanta.
Cameron looks like the typical rich white guy and I honestly think, that’s why he’s successful as he is. Nothing can stick to him. He has super loyal people surrounding him. No one will be willing to testify against him.
And absolutely no one could believe Senator Page’s son was a ruthless drug lord.
He calmly sips his cappuccino before he tries the homemade biscuit with jam. A look of euphoria and bliss covers his face. I’m instantly reminded that was how he looked when he first entered me and when he finally came. I cross my legs in hops to stop the increasing thumping in my panties.
“This is excellent.” He smiles. “Hayley made this?”
“I made it.” I dryly reply. My words and my body are in direct conflict with each other. Clearly, my mind is winning the battle but for how long? “Daddy’s old recipe. Hayley made the jam, though. We created it together.”
“I need to pick up a jar for my mom, she’ll love it.” Cameron smiles and I see the slight dimples in his cheeks. Ugh. He knows how much I loved his dimples.
“I’ll make sure to send it to her.” I sip my tangerine tea. “Is there anything else I can help you with? I plan to pay you back in full.”
