The Mogul and the Muscle - Claire Kingsley Page 0,4

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.

“Sweetie, you need to eat,” Luna said. “I’ll get you something.”

“I ate before we left,” I said, but Luna ignored me in her quest to find one of the appetizer-bearing waiters.

“Maybe we should have stayed in tonight,” Emily said, her voice laced with concern.

“It’s good for me to be seen,” I said. “If I disappear it’ll just blow the whole thing out of proportion.”

Emily gave me the side-eye while she dug her phone out of her clutch. A little smile crossed her lips as she typed. She’d been dirty texting her boyfriend Derek all night. We’d only been gone for a few hours, but the four of us—Daisy was around here somewhere—had come to the Florida Cancer Research Society’s fund-raising auction as each other’s dates. A slightly stuffy version of girls’ night, but at least we were here for a good purpose.

“I’m not going to lie, Emily. I’m a little jealous of the hot sex you’re going to have tonight,” I said.

“What makes you think I’m having hot sex tonight?” Emily asked.

It was my turn to give her the side-eye.

Her lips turned up in a smile. “Okay, fine.”

Luna came back and handed me a cocktail napkin with a pastry triangle.

“Thanks, Moon.” I took a bite and the flaky pastry practically melted in my mouth. “Okay, you were right, these are to die for.” I wasn’t sure how Luna lived without bacon—or cheese—but I admired her dedication to her principles. And this spanikopita was amazing.

“Has anyone told you how fucking fantastic your ass looks in that dress, Cam?” Daisy appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my ass cheek. “I swear to god, whatever Inda makes you do is working.”

“She loves to torture me,” I said. Inda was my personal trainer and an Israeli goddess. My girl crush on her was no secret. I wasn’t sexually attracted to women, generally, but if Inda had been single, I’d have given it