3
Camilla
I started working as an intern at a new firm a few days ago and today, I was offered a lunch with a couple other staffers. I knew that it was a good networking opportunity, so I accepted the invitation, hoping that it would come up with some sort of job at the end. If I met the right people and managed to show them I was committed and well-educated, they would consider hiring me for sure.
I dressed myself in one of my finest suits and styled my hair into a bun that screamed “professional”, applying only a minimal amount of makeup.
The lunch was at one of most exclusive restaurants in the city, and my jaw almost dropped when I entered, taking in all the luxury. The place exuded wealth with its marble floors, golden chandeliers, and an impressive collection of paintings. I could never afford to have a lunch at this kind of place.
“Hey, you made it,” Angela, who was one of the interns, greeted me. I sat down next to her.
“Yeah. The traffic was terrible though. I barely got here on time.”
“Tell me about it. I got out of my place a lot earlier, but I arrived just a few minutes ago.”
We were seated at a large round table for ten in the middle of the room, and there were two unoccupied seats left—one of them right next to me.
“This place is fancy,” I remarked, observing the people around us. Everyone was wearing expensive suits, looking quite “important”, which made me wonder why our firm decided to reward us with a lunch at such an expensive place. “I think that like, one lunch here could lead me to bankruptcy.”
“I get you. My wallet is also so thin that I could never even set a foot into a place like this… Thank God for our generous boss.”
“Does he take interns for lunch a lot?”
“Not really, but when he does, it’s always a place like this. And then I use the chance to eat my weight in food that costs more than my electricity bill and gain a few pounds I can’t lose afterward.”
I giggled. “Good to know. I guess I’ll stuff myself too. I can’t lose this opportunity.”
At that my stomach growled, reminding me that I was living off spaghetti and instant noodles these days, trying to save as much money as possible. I couldn’t afford anything more expensive. Not until I finally found a real job.
Just as the waiter poured me red wine, someone sat down next to me, and I turned around to greet them…
My eyes widened when they met his, my heart picking up its pace almost instantly.
It was him! Merritt Dawson!
“Hello,” he said in that sensual voice of his, and just like that night in the bar, my insides warmed.
I remembered my body’s reaction when I saw him for the first time in person. He sat so close to me, the scent of his expensive cologne caressing my nostrils, and all I could think about was that pictures and videos didn’t do him justice. He was much more attractive in the flesh, his dark brown eyes stealing all the breath out of my lungs the moment they connected with mine.
He was tall and muscular but not too much. He wasn’t bulky. He looked like he hit the gym from time to time, which allowed him to have a well-defined torso and arms. The suit he wore that night added to his attractiveness, and I couldn’t help but fantasize about what was inside.
I was attracted to him, that much was clear, but I wasn’t naïve. I knew very well who Merritt Dawson was, aside from being one of the youngest congressmen with stellar achievements in his political career. He showed a promising future, that was for sure.
No, that wasn’t the problem here. The problem was who he was in his private life, and the image wasn’t flattering in the least. He was a playboy, always moving from one girl to another, and the stories of his conquests were becoming almost legendary. It was rumored that he had been involved with several A-list actresses and models.
The bottom line was that he was a trouble.
Oh and he was my brother’s best friend. Carter has made me strictly off limits to his buddies, so why the hell was he here?
As much as I wanted him—yes, I wanted him badly—I didn’t need to complicate my life.
So, I rejected his advances, even thought I had been pretty close to accepting his invitation to go somewhere else, where anything could happen. After all, the man was a walking sex. But I left him in that bar, and that was supposed to be it. I had to admit I’d fantasized about him these days, but I’d never thought I would ever see him again.
However, here he was—staring right at me, as if came here only for me, which was ridiculous. Right?
“What are you doing here?” I whispered, leaning slightly toward him. I noticed the surprised glances other interns cast at him and me.
“I’m a congressman, and I know I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered back to me, his hot breath sending shivers up my spine. “But I found out that you were coming, and I made a point to stop by.”
My pulse, which was already erratic, doubled at his words, and I didn’t know what to say. I grabbed my glass and took a sip of my wine to buy some time. He’d come to see me? Wow. It would be a lie if I said I wasn’t excited that he was giving me his attention in this way. But I was confused since I had expected him to forget about me after that night, not pursue me.
Was he? Pursuing me, I mean.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Senator Dawson. It’s an honor to meet you.” Greg, another intern who was sitting across from us, said before I could even answer him. He made a show of standing up to shake Merritt’s hand, but Merritt couldn’t look any more disinterested in him.
After Greg, everyone else was trying to get his attention, but he had eyes only for me.
“You look good in that suit,” he said into my ear. “I would have a hard time focusing on my work if I had you working next to me.”
“You’re flattering me again.”
But it felt damn good, and my cheeks were bright red. I resisted squirming on my chair, my pussy pulsating with need. What was it about him that made me feel like this? No other man could make me feel needy as he could.
“You deserve every single compliment and much more.”
I sipped my wine, trying to ignore the way other interns looked at us. Did they know? Could they guess that the mighty Merritt Dawson was flirting with me? I was confused myself, unable to fully believe it.
His thigh was almost touching mine, and I was painfully aware of his hand resting on his own leg. The crazy part of me wanted that hand on me, my judgment completely clouded by a sudden rush of lust. Now that I was looking at him under the bright lights of the restaurant, he was even more gorgeous, his dark brown eyes and chiseled jaw even more prominent. And those strong shoulders… Wow.
“Answering your earlier question, it’s a pleasant surprise. You showing up here.”
He formed a panty-dropping smile that made the temperature in the room rise several degrees. “Good. For a moment there, I thought I was crossing the line.”
I smiled back at him, having an urge to twist a strand of my hair around my finger, which was one of the things I did unconsciously whenever I flirted. Too bad that my hair was collected in a bun.
“Not at all.”
“You know, you didn’t tell me your name that night.”
That night, telling him my name would lead to a mistake, but now I wasn’t so sure about it. His pull was strong, and now it was difficult to rely on reason and think about the consequences. But if he didn’t know my name, did he not realize who I was? Had I changed that much since middle school? I guessed so. But I could play along, for now.
“I’m Camilla.”
“Camilla.” The way my name rolled off his tongue was hot. My pussy throbbed, desire clouding my reason even more. “Beautiful,” he whispered, dropping his gaze to my lips. I was sure I’d started to pant, wishing I had a fan that would cool me. It was suddenly very hot at the table.
“Look, I’m staying only for a few minutes, but I’ll be stopping by a hotel in a couple hours.” A hotel? My pulse skyrocketed. “I would love to see you.” He looked over other people at the table, well aware of their inquisitive stares. “We can talk in private there. Or else.”
Or else… Holy…
He wrote the name of the hotel and the room number down on a napkin and folded it before he slid it to my plate.
“Senator Dawson, I think I should tell you, I don’t mix business with pleasure,” I said in whisper hoping no one else would hear me.
“Oh? Because I always do. See you later,” he said in a tone that promised so much and winked at me.
Jesus. I didn’t remember when the last time was I was this turned on.
He stood up and walked away abruptly without even talking to anyone else at the table, leaving us to gape at him as if he had three heads. And as soon as he was out of the door, everyone gaped at me.
In an instant, I was facing a barrage of questions—each question more vexing than the other—and I became flustered. This was definitely something I didn’t need at the moment. They wanted to know how I knew him and what was our relationship, but I ignored their requests, refusing to satisfy their curiosity.
I could only imagine the kind of rumors that would circulate around the firm by tomorrow.
“Girl, you’re lucky,” Angela commented, her eyes as big as saucers. I had noticed how she ogled at him, not that she was the only one. All female interns around the table had looked at him with their admiring or lustful eyes, and I couldn’t blame them. “It seems like he’s into you.”
“You’re imagining things. He’s just friendly.”
“I’m not sure about that, but whatever floats your boat.”
Our lunch was served, and thankfully, they didn’t pester me about Merritt anymore. The conversation went in another direction, but I couldn’t focus, because I was caught in a dilemma. Should I go to see Merritt in the hotel? Should I sleep with him? What the hell would Carter say, or do?
Maybe sleeping with him would be a good thing. I could satisfy this desire that was rushing through me now and refusing to dissipate and get him out of my system for good. Our paths wouldn’t cross again after today…
Or maybe…
I could make this benefit me.
Merritt was a senator. He obviously had good connections and could call in a few favors here and there. He could be the solution to my problem!
I twirled my glass, observing the wine spinning in it as I contemplated on whether I should actually go through with it or not.
Was it a good idea? Yes.
Was it moral? Hell no.
But I was desperate, and desperate times call for desperate measures.
I would go to see him in that hotel room. And hopefully, after that, all my problems would be solved.