The Billionaire's Secret by Navy James

Author:Navy James [James, Navy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Camille

The daylight streams into my apartment, casting a warm glow on the walls. I lie on my bed, absorbed in the gentle hum of the city outside my window. The tranquility is disrupted by the sudden intrusion of a ringing phone. I reach over to the bedside table, noting the unfamiliar number flashing on the screen.

"Hello?" I answer tentatively, unsure of who might be on the other end.

A voice, smooth and familiar, flows through the phone. "Camille, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

I freeze, recognizing the voice instantly. John Fitzgerald, my former boss, and perpetual admirer. A shiver runs down my spine as I navigate through the memories of dodging his advances in the past. "John," I reply, my voice guarded.

He goes on, as if the years apart never happened. Questions about my new place, observations about the city, all delivered with practiced charm. He mentions how it took him a while to acquire my number but seeing me again at the party compelled him to go to great lengths. I can't help but feel a knot forming in my stomach.

After the pleasantries, I gather my courage and ask the question hanging in the air, "Why did you call, John?"

There's a pause on the other end, a calculated hesitation. "Camille, I've been thinking about you. About us."

The words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. I can almost feel the weight of his gaze through the phone, and I sit up, suddenly uneasy.

His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "I saw you with Phil at the party. It got me thinking. Maybe we could catch up, reminisce about old times."

I can't help but roll my eyes at the audacity. "John, we've moved on. I'm with Phil now. I don't see any reason for us to catch up."

He chuckles, a sound that sends shivers down my spine for all the wrong reasons. "Camille, people change, circumstances change. I think we owe it to ourselves to explore what might still be there."

I bite my lip, struggling to find the right words. "John, I appreciate the sentiment, but there's nothing left for us to explore. I'm happy with Phil, and I won't jeopardize that."

The conversation takes a turn, and I find myself navigating through a labyrinth of carefully crafted sentences. Fitzgerald talks about the party, about how I looked, about Phil. His words become a maze, and I can't shake the feeling that he's weaving a narrative, setting the stage for something.

As he continues to speak, I glance out the window. The sun, now lower in the sky, casts long shadows across the room. The play of light and shadow mirrors the complexities of the conversation, each word casting a different hue on the canvas of our interaction.

I can almost feel Phil's presence, even though he's not here. The weight of his disapproval hangs in the air, an invisible force pushing against Fitzgerald's insistent words.

The call stretches on, a tense melody filling the room. I try to steer the conversation away, but Fitzgerald persists, his voice wrapping around me like a coil.

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