Total Submission(2)

“Nice to see you too, Becca.” Brent leers at her cleavage. “You put us at the best table, right? None of that backroom bullshit.”

“Of course.” She leads us to a table in the middle of the room. Brent takes his time following, and he parades me through the room like he wants everyone to stare.

And they do. In this dress, with four-inch heels and my blonde hair tumbling free, I look like I should be in some trashy nightclub, not a classy restaurant like this.

I feel myself go numb under their stares. Let them look. They aren’t seeing me, the real me, just this act I have to keep together.

Remember you’re more than his prop, I remind myself. Remember you’re more than this.

“Bring a bottle of Brut,” Brent barks at her, as we take out seats. “And none of that new shit. Vintage, all the way.”

Becca’s smile dims. “On its way.” She gives me a look before leaving, as if to say, ‘what the hell are you doing with him?’

Me too, honey. Me too.

Brent’s buddies stroll over to us, drinks in hand, and claim seats at our table like they own the place. They’re college friends, now all big-shot bankers and CEOs propped up by daddy’s connections and trust funds, and soon they’re trading gossip—the size of their bonuses, and the new expensive toys they’ve been buying.

“Rooftop pool, state of the art electronics…” One of the guys is bragging about his new penthouse apartment. “It was a fucking bidding war, I went a mil over asking to lock it down.”

I try to look interested, but I can feel my eyes glazing over. These men, they don’t know how to talk to a woman, how to respect her, make her feel valued. I’m just a decoration to them.

“Sweet,” Brent says. “I’m looking too, right, Iz? Your place is kind of cramped.” He’s noticed how quiet I am and is trying to make me participate in the conversation.

My two-bedroom on the Upper East Side is nowhere near cramped, but I smile and nod, appeasing him as I sip my champagne.

“You got to go downtown,” his buddy insists. “They’ve got great units in Soho, nine, ten mill. Bargain.”

Brent’s jaw clenches. “Sure, sure.” He agrees, but I can see the jealousy seething in his eyes. I don’t understand it: thanks to Charles Ashcroft, who adopted us both from different homes when we were kids, Brent and I grew up in luxury. But nothing was ever enough for Brent, he always hung out with kids who were even richer than us, and kept acting even more entitled. Now he has nothing left except my borrowed trust fund, but he still won’t quit trying to act like a big-shot.

My gaze wanders around the room, scanning the crowd. It’s a hot new dining spot, and it’s packed on a Friday night with fashionable people and—

My heart stops.

Cam.

He’s being shown to a table with my half-sister, Keely, and her fiancé, and he looks just as devastatingly hot as ever. His tall, broad-shouldered physique is draped in a designer suit, and his dark hair is matched with sexy stubble.

I shiver, flooded with memories. His hands gripping my wrists tightly. His body pressing down on mine. His fingers trailing lower—

A hand slides around my shoulder, but it’s not Cam’s. Brent grabs me so hard I wince, then raises his other hand to wave.

“McCullough,” he calls, smug. “Good to see you, man.”

Cam looks over, and his face turns to stone. His eyes meet mine, unreadable, and then he keeps walking past me, like I don’t even exist.

My heart breaks.

The moment he’s gone, Brent drops his hand from my shoulder. “I wonder what’s bugging him?” he smirks. “Sore loser.”

As if I’m some prize to be won.

I wait silently until he’s back talking to the guys again. “Excuse me,” I murmur, then quickly leave the table. I make my way blindly towards the restrooms, so close to falling apart.

What must Cam think of me?

I push into the cool marble sanctuary of the ladies room, trying to calm myself. I take deep breaths, but can’t stop the panic that grips me. I plunge my shaking hands under the cold water and try to pull myself together.

He’s here, right here. So close. And yet Cam has never been so far from me.

I look at my eyes in the mirror, and see all the sadness, pain, and fear about my life reflected back at me.

My resolve crumbles. I thought I could tell him goodbye, but now, every part of me aches to be in his arms again. He’s just a few feet away but it seems like an entire city separates us. If only I could talk to him, explain why I did what I did. But he probably hates me—he loathes Brent. Knowing that I went back to him, despite everything that happened, might be too much for Cam to take.