Uncovering Camila (Wildflowers Book 3) (12 page)

“That’s not fair, Bernie. She’s her own person. Camila has a right to consider her opportunities.” Mari looks at her daughter. “We knew this day would come. Your father didn’t want to acknowledge it, but
mija
, it’s up to you. What did you tell Art?”

“I told him that I’d think about it,” she confesses, a feeling of guilt washing over her.

Her father’s reaction is one she’d never seen before. She’d seen him rant during Republican presidencies, cry during 9/11 and the aftermath, but never once has she seen him this resolutely silent. He stares at Camila, as if seeing through her, and it sends chills down her back. Her immediate response is to cry. His anger is a stab to her chest. Of course he isn’t directing it toward her, but rather at the specter of his father who was resurrected the minute Camila walked into his home with the news. If he could articulate a single word at the moment, it would be “Don’t.”

This is how it begins. The casual proposal, subtle family pressure and then before they know it, his only beloved daughter becomes swept up in the business, dollar signs becoming the only things that matter. He’d raised Camila on Jefferson Avenue to learn empathy, to learn what it means to be a neighbor in the truest sense of the word. He wanted his daughter to be a veritable resident of the City, not just someone who could navigate Bergdorfs with her eyes closed.

Bernie shakes his head. “No one will benefit if you do this. Let them sell the portfolio and your uncle can go live the rest of his life as a fat cat on some yacht. Shoshana can have her foundation and do something good with that money.” He walks up to Camila and squeezes her cheeks. God, how much he wishes she were a baby again. At least when he held her, he could protect her. He would hold her in his arms as he’d done until she was too heavy to hold anymore. He plants a kiss on her forehead and hugs her tight. “And you can live your life without the burden of being anyone’s legacy.”

Chapter 30

“This place is swanky,” Jared says, kicking the door closed behind him. Shakers, strainers and double jiggers rattle in a box as he shifts his weight to pull a cart carrying ice and a dozen bottles of various spirits and bitters. “I thought professors lived in little West Village hovels with books as tables.”

“Not if you work for NYU.” Camila leads him down a corridor, through the newly refurbished living space and into a dining room. She motions toward the view of Washington Square Park. “He’s not even tenured.”

“Maybe I should’ve finished my Masters in Chemistry,” Jared replies, setting the box down onto the dark chestnut dining table. “Think I can get a tour?” He whispers. “I always love checking out fancy apartments.”

“You’ve seen the living area and this. The caterers are in the kitchen.” She waves a hand for him to follow her. They peer into a pristine kitchen with all stainless-steel appliances and glass cabinets, as well as a breakfast nook. From there she leads him down yet another corridor. “I’m guessing this is the bedroom.” She points to a closed door. “This is the office.” Camila nods toward an austere room with only a reading chair, a desk and two bookcases lined with legal books.

“You know your way around already.” Jared smiles.

“I checked the place out when I arrived. Professor apartments here are considered legendary.” Camila couldn’t help herself. She was eager to see Marshall’s apartment. All the students knew that the law school housed a handful of professors in Furman Hall, near Washington Square Park, but few have ever been able to visit them. Camila shoves away the looming memory of their morning together at her place, her body waking up to the possibility of more just being in his apartment.

Secretly, she found herself missing Marshall the other day. With a potential family crisis coming to the fore, she would’ve given anything to have someone to talk to, someone with insight into her near future. Unfortunately, after the way they left things the other day, she doesn’t think she could cross that line again.

“Thanks for working tonight,” Camila says as she helps him unpack.

“Please, don’t thank me. I should be the one thanking you. I need a break from L.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

Jared stops unpacking and turns to Camila. He holds up two fingers in front of her. “How many fingers?”

“Two.”

“So you haven’t gone blind.”

She shakes her head and laughs. “Why?” 

“I can’t believe you haven’t noticed we’re living in the middle of a young adult romance. Felicity, that new bartender, keeps making googly eyes at Todd, who, by the way, finally cut that shaggy hair of his.”

“Do you think they’re  . . . .” Camila smiles.

“Seriously, how can they not be? Did you notice how he’s spending more time out front than in his office? And he’s at L way more than any of his other places.”

A laugh escapes Camila. “You think they’re having sex on the bar?”

Jared covers his eyes. “I so don’t want that image in my head. I’m no prude, but hetero sex is too freaky for me.”

Camila opens a container of mint leaves. “These smell fantastic.”

“Don’t they? And I got some basil too. I’m thinking of trying out a few new things tonight. What kind of people are we expecting? Any of them the adventurous cocktail types?”

“In my text, I mentioned it was a law school function. Law students and lawyers.”

“Yeah, but you failed to elaborate. Are they like you?”

“Like me how?”

“You know, a laid back nerd who likes her booze.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not really friends with any of them. I just see them around. But it’s not as though all law students have sticks up their asses.”

Jared gives her a look. “I’ll take your word for it. You never told me who’s hosting. The minimal West Elm look in here makes me think straight guy, early thirties, say thirty, thirty-one.”

“Damn, how do you do that?”

“Scott likes to get stoned and watch those decorating and house flip shows. They’re always the same, but whatever. What we do for love, right?”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Camila replies dryly, deciding to make a drink for the two of them before everyone arrives.

“Soooo, the host,” he says. “Obviously single, no kids . . . .”

Camila shrugs. “Someone new to the school. I’m not in any of his classes, so I don’t know much about him.”

“You’re being weird. You’re always about extraneous details, and now you can’t say the man’s name or look at me.”

“What? I’m making you a cocktail.” Camila forces herself to look at Jared.

He regards her suspiciously. “You’re a terrible liar, my friend. I’ll figure out what you’re hiding.”

It takes all of one second when he sees Marshall walk into the apartment.

“Oh my God, it’s Mr. Gucci,” he whispers into Camila’s ear.

“Shut up. This isn’t the time.”

“Oh, it totally is,” he replies and heads into the adjacent kitchen to introduce himself to Marshall.

“Good evening. I’m Jared. I work with Camila over at L,” he says, hinting he recognizes Marshall from the bar that night.

“It’s great of you to come.” Marshall casually extends a hand.

“Remind me of your drink of choice, and I’ll be sure to keep your glass full tonight.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. You know how to mix a Metropolitan?”

The bartender suppresses a smile. “Funny. Camila really enjoys those too. I’ll be right back.”

“You fucked him didn’t you?” Jared wags a finger at his friend.

“How can you tell? You spoke to him all of two minutes.”

“While you hid in here like a scaredy cat. What happened? Buyer’s remorse? Hard to imagine though.” He turns in the direction of the kitchen and shakes his head. “No way. With that mouth, the way he stands, and his posture. He’s definitely good in the sack.”

Camila makes a face. “I didn’t realize he was my Professor.”

“I thought you said you weren’t in any of his classes.”

“I dropped it on the first day when I saw him. But what’s worse. He’s my faculty advisor for Law Review.”

“That’s classic,” Jared laughs out loud. So loud it gets Marshall’s attention. He spots Camila standing by the bar. “Oh, hey C.,” he begins to say then clears his throat. “Camila, I didn’t realize you were here.”

“I came early to help Jared set up,” she says, finishing her drink in one gulp.

Chapter 31

“This is worse than my cousin’s bar mitzvah down in Palm Springs,” Jared groans to Camila when she approaches him for another drink.

“It may kill you to hear this, but this is one of the better networking parties I’ve been to,” she replies.

“That guy in the corner talking to your boyfriend looks like my Uncle Mordy.”

Camila slaps his arm. “Shut up already. And
that
man happens to be the foremost expert in Trusts and Estates in the country. I think Oprah is his client.”

“Seriously, honey. You do not belong with this crowd. You are so downtown cool, and they’re uptown uptight.”

“For your information, I just spoke with a woman who runs a legal aid office in the Bronx. She said her work is ‘rewarding’. How many people ever say that about their jobs?”

“Most teachers, except middle school ones, and saints.” Jared leans on his elbow. “So fine, not all lawyers are like my Uncle Mordy. But most of them are.” He checks his watch. “Cover for me a minute. I’m going to the bathroom.”

“I thought I was paying Jared to work, not you.” Marshall says.

“He’s taking his Union fifteen,” Camila answers wryly.

“I guess I can’t interfere with that. I would hate to get a letter from a union lawyer.” He holds up his glass. “Would you mind? I think I prefer your Metropolitans to his anyway.”

“I told you it’s because I don’t sweeten it. Besides, I could use something to do.”

“You’re not giving up so quickly, I hope. There are plenty of attorneys I can introduce you to.”

“So this was a plan to get me to consider a different line of work.”

“Not a plan as much as a hope. But I know better than to interfere in your life. You know what you want.”

Camila looks up when she hears that last word. “Up until recently I would’ve agreed with you. But I realized that I’ve been confusing need with want. I need a job. I don’t know if I want the one I thought I did.”

Marshall furrows his brow. “That’s a tough one. You want to talk about it?” He looks around at the party. More people have arrived. Students are always game for free alcohol, as he knew they would be. However, if he could, he’d snap his fingers and make them all disappear so he could be alone with Camila.

“Maybe later,” she says vaguely, pouring his drink into a clean glass.

Marshall drops five dollars into a tip jar. “Later then.”

“I’m glad you came tonight,” Camila says as she stacks the shakers and places them into a small box. “It was nice to have a friend around.”

“Students are terrible tippers, but you know I’d do anything for you,” Jared replies. He hooks a cord around the box of alcohol and stands. “At least I got to check out your secret boyfriend.”

Camila slaps his thigh. “Shh. He is not.”

“Oh please. You and Felicity should start a club. You guys can make a SLAM book and write Felicity + Todd and Camila + Marshall on the cover. This is so junior high with your sad, longing faces.” He presses his cheeks down. “A crush on your professor, and a crush on your boss, I swear I
am
living in the middle of a young adult drama.”

“Oh come on. You said they’re probably sleeping together. That’s not happening here.”

Jared puts a hand on his hip. “You’re lying to me, and you’re lying to yourself. I can see what’s going on. My vision is 20/10.”

“Enough. You’re being weird.”

“Pot, kettle, honey. I’ve known you for seven years, and I’ve never seen you act this strange.”

“But he’s my professor,” she whispers as the catering staff bustle around her, clearing out the dishes. Most of the party has emptied out with the exception of a few lawyers who seem to be friends of Marshall’s.

“No he isn’t. He teaches at the law school where you happen to be a student. I’m not an idiot. That’s gray area at best, but still within acceptable boundaries. And I should know a thing or two about boundaries because I’m always breaking them.” Jared hands her the container with the shakers. “Walk down with me and wait while I get a cab.”

Chapter 32

Camila raises her fist outside his door. She closes her eyes, wishing she’d thought things through better. She was too caught up in her conversation with Jared that she forgot her jacket and bag in Marshall’s apartment. Her pride makes her hesitate. The moment she knocks, it’ll seem as if she’d planned it, even subconsciously, so she had an excuse to see him again. After a few beats, she raps once.
Fuck Freud
, she mutters to herself.

Marshall opens immediately, his face betraying his surprise. From his right emerges a gentleman Camila had spoken to briefly who’d introduced himself as Javier. Their conversation had been brief because he practices in a highly specialized area of asset-backed finance that didn’t interest Camila. She didn’t realize it was possible for law to be that dry and boring.

“Oh hey, C.C.,” he says. “I was just walking Javi out.”

“I’m sorry to intrude. I was helping Jared with his things and left my bag and jacket here.”

He stands to the side. “Come in. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Camila grabs her things as quickly as possible and is already nearing the door when it slams. She stops when she notices Marshall standing there. They stare at each other for what feels like an interminable length of time. The space seems to contract with her breath, and the lights dim. She begins to think maybe there is something wrong with her vision because Marshall keeps coming in and out of focus. The irony dawns on her, and she smiles.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, still not moving.

“Nothing.” She shrugs. “You, I guess.”

He doesn’t respond.

Camila wants to leave. At least she thinks she does, but the moment she reaches the door, she’ll be close to him. At this point, she’s not sure if being any closer to him than she is now is a good idea. For her at least.

“I should go,” she says. Her heart drums against her chest.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?”

“There’s that word again,” she says.

“Which one?”

“Want,” she replies.

“That’s right. You mentioned that you needed to figure out what you want.” Either her eyes are still playing tricks on her or she just saw Marshall’s tongue run over his bottom lip. A warm feeling fills her body and floods her cunt.

Camila steadies herself and wills her feet forward, one at a time.

“You can stay and talk about it.” He would like to promise that he won’t try to kiss her either, but he’s not sure if he can hold himself to that.

“Thanks. I’m good though,” she replies, stopping in front of Marshall. Camila takes a deep breath to calm her nerves. It’s been weeks since that night in the guesthouse. That should’ve been enough time to bury the desire that had sprouted between them. She didn’t feel it when she was alone with him in his office the last time, but she was angry with him then. Now, she feels nothing but tension, within and without. It’s as if they’re both fighting against the one thing they both want, and the moment they’re together, that one thing becomes so magnified that no matter how hard they try, they can’t ignore it.

Marshall places his hand on the doorknob but doesn’t turn it. “Are you sure?” He asks.

Camila doesn’t look him in the eye. She knows if she does her desire will be written all over her face.

His hand doesn’t move. Marshall is too conflicted to do anything or trust his judgment. He wants her too much to see clearly. Nothing about being with Camila makes sense, especially not where two other professors live on the same floor. Even he can’t discount how it would appear to them if anyone saw her leaving his apartment. And yet, no part of him can turn the damn doorknob. His feet are like lead and are failing to get out of her way. He’s torn between getting down on his knees and kissing her until she comes against the door or carrying her to his bed where he’d fuck her senselessly until the early hours of the morning. Neither of these options involves her walking out, leaving him feeling bereft and in need of her smile, her presence,
her
.

“Don’t go,” Marshall whispers.

The beauty of confusion is that it amplifies the one thing you are clear about. As Camila listened to the different lawyers talk about their work, it only reinforced what she didn’t want. It was then that she realized that life is often about eliminating the possibilities in order to figure out what you do want. And as she stands in that corridor, facing Marshall, she realizes that if she can’t decide her career fate, she can at least make a much simpler decision. However selfish it seems, owning up to the fact that she wants him makes her feel that she’s in control of something in her life. It’s too easy to want him. Not just because of his outward beauty but for the fact that he’s grounded and honest, two qualities she has sadly come to learn not many people have. It makes him a rare find in this City where some are lucky to find someone with at least one of those traits.

Finally Camila looks him in the eye, her gaze dark and heated. This, this is what he’d wanted, what he saw that night. In a single breath, Marshall releases the knob, threads his fingers through Camila’s hair and pulls her in for a deep kiss. Camila matches his intensity bite for bite, lick for lick. There’s absolutely no holding back now. She wraps her arms and legs around him. Marshall grabs her ass and pushes her against the wall, pressing his full erection against her pulsing cunt. 

He wants her now. There’s no waiting until they reach his bedroom, or even the living room. It’s too strong, this primal need to claim whatever this thing is between the two of them. It feels as if the other times they were together were merely a prelude to this moment of complete openness. The sooner Marshall enters her, the sooner they can cross this arbitrary line of correctness that has stifled their need for each other. Only then can he know.

But he does know, he tells himself as his lips trail down her neck. He knows the way he knew his ex wasn’t the one for him. The one thing Marshall has always been able to count on not to fail him are his instincts. He’s never been wrong.

Except with Camila. He was wrong when he met her and believed her to be aimless. He couldn’t understand why an intelligent woman would choose to work as a bartender in a dingy place on the Lower East Side. Not that he intended to judge her for her work, but rather for her lack of obvious ambition. He should’ve figured that Camila wasn’t the type to flaunt her achievements. She was inclined to hide herself from others in order to not separate herself from them. She didn’t want to seem different or be regarded as anything but normal. But his instinct was to never give up on her, to at least try to get to know her and prove himself wrong.

He lifts off her shirt, then removes his own, popping two buttons as he goes. There is nothing average about this incredible creature, he tells himself as his lips move down her chest. She continues to surprise him whenever he’s within her sphere.

Camila reaches down, unhooks his trousers and feels his hard cock. She’s so ready for him, for this. As far as she’s concerned, being together in his apartment crosses that final line. The craving she’s been feeling has been replaced by a profound need for him.

With one hand, she works to release his cock as he pushes her skirt up around her waist. Neither of them needs to be undressed for this. Their mutual passion and desire for one another exposes them more to each other than their naked bodies can even show. Desire drips from her lips and her pussy as she draws him to her. Marshall watches her eyes glaze over when he enters her. The effect is so immediate on both of them. Marshall feels submerged in warmth and heat and affection. Camila feels completely and utterly renewed.

He palms her left cheek and opens her mouth with his thumb. She sucks so hard he drives himself deeper and harder into her. Marshall replaces his thumb with his lips. This is how he wants to come, with his mouth on hers, taking in her cries of pleasure. He’s moving even faster now, two fingers finding and stroking her clit with every thrust of his cock. He wants her to feel as overwhelmed as he does.

Camila pushes against the tide that’s beginning to form around her clit and rising up through her cunt. Every slick stroke of his cock is one more push toward her orgasm and threatens to drown her in complete bliss. Up and up it rises, his lips and tongue taking in the sounds of her pleasure.

“I’m not going to come until after you. I want to feel you,” he whispers, his fingers moving quickly. And he can feel it begin, that slow pulse, the way her body burns under his touch.

Camila bites his lip as the tide finally washes over her, her pussy exploding around Marshall’s cock. The sensation is incredible. He’s felt her come before, but the vibration is more intense this time. He plunges himself as deep as he can go, faster and faster as her cunt continues to pull on him, drawing him even closer to her. Sweat drips down Marshall’s face as he goes. He can feel how close he is but still wants more of this, more of him inside her, more of this vibration that’s milking his cock. His lips crash against Camila’s when he can no longer hold back, releasing every want, every dream, and everything he has into her.