"Oh, yeah." His voice gave a gravelly croak as he winced. "That made my hangover feel real good." He closed eyes after checking his fingers for blood.
"You need to get up," Olivia said, jumping back into action. She hurried to him and grabbed his arm, physically tugging. "Vivian’s at the door."
Cameron groaned, the news probably adding to his headache. "Here, how about I hide?" he offered and threw the sheets over his head so none of
his body showed, except for the obvious outline he made under the covers.
Olivia growled and ripped the sheet off his head to glare at him. "Get up. Now!" When he didn’t budge, she spun away and started scurrying for his clothes, tossing them at him as she found each article.
Cameron merely lay there, pushing his pants off his face when they slapped him in the cheek. "Livy," he whined. "I think it’s physically impossible for me to move right now."
Outside the door, Vivian Donavon’s voice railed at an employee who obviously had the nerve to argue with her. "I paid for this room! Open the goddamn door."
Olivia heard a key in the lock and gasped. The bitch had known Cameron was in here last night when she’d talked to her through the door. She wouldn’t be in such a hurry to get in if she thought nothing was up.
With no time to think about that, Olivia spun desperately toward Cameron. "Please."
He looked up at her with eyes that seemed to see right into her soul. Without another word, he nodded and gathered his clothes in one swipe. Jumping out of bed, he started for the bathroom.
But it was already too late.
He’d just made it to the lavatory when the entrance of the suite swung open. Vivian shoved a quivering bellhop aside and stormed inside like a raging bull. Nolan skittered in behind her, looking excited. When Vivian saw Olivia partially blocking the view of Cameron, who was now frozen in the bathroom exit and wrapped toga-style in the bed sheets, she sent her daughter a gloatingly triumphant, approving smile.
Olivia’s vision dimmed. Her mother was happy. But of course she was happy. This was exactly what she’d wanted to see. She’d whored her own daughter out to the richest prospect, and Olivia had fallen right into her web. She suddenly felt light headed and feared she might pass out.
This was it. It was all hitting the fan. Vivian shoved her aside so she could glare dauntingly at Cameron, her hands on her hips and her feet braced apart like a gunslinger at a standoff. The performance actually appeared real, too.
The employee, with a master key clutched in his hand, looked scared spitless. He backed from the room and quickly shut the door, leaving the four alone inside. Nolan crossed his arms and legs as he leaned across the closed portal, looking perfectly at home as he prepared to watch the show.
Vivian frowned. "What in the hell are you doing in my daughter’s bed?"
Cameron, brave man that he was—or foolish, Olivia couldn’t decide which—didn’t cower. "Morning, Mrs. Roark," he greeted Vivian pleasantly. Then he yawned and scratched at the five o’clock shadow on his jaw. "And Mr. Roark, I assume." He nodded toward Nolan.
"Banks," Vivian growled.
"Hmm?" He glanced her way. "Oh, right. What am I doing in your daughter’s bed? Well, actually, ma’am, I’m technically not in her bed. I’m standing in this fine doorway here."
"Just answer my question!" Her roar caused Olivia to jump and Cameron to wince and grab his no-doubt pounding head.
"Heard ya," he muttered and scrubbed furiously at a spot on his temple as if he could scratch the pain away.
"Then answer me," Vivian growled, lowering her tone, but not her fake anger. In truth, she probably was steamed. Olivia knew how she hated snippety responses. And Cameron was throwing them out like candy at a parade.
"I was sleeping," Cameron muttered the obvious and sent Vivian his own irritated scowl. "Until you woke me." Then he folded his arms over his chest as if he expected an apology.
Vivian’s face turned a deep purplish red. "How dare you defile my daughter?"
Cameron laughed and glanced toward Olivia. "She’s pretty good at that performance, isn’t she? She really does look like the pissed-off mother."
"Why, you rutting little bastard," Vivian thundered, stalking forward.
"Cameron!" Olivia cried out in fear.
She could already picture it: Vivian was going to claw the skin off his face, and then Nolan would stomp the remains into the ground, and it would be all her fault for dragging him into this mess. She cringed, already steeped in guilt.
But Cameron’s eyes narrowed as he glanced her way. He didn’t seem to like the anxiety in her voice, because he straightened and uncrossed his arms as he turned back to Vivian. "Stop," he commanded.