Leo
After a few weeks of dating Camile, I’m beginning to understand why the men at Crown MMA Gym seem so happy all the damn time. There’s something magical about having a person who wants to hear what happened during my day and snuggle with me on the sofa when I’m tired. Someone to troubleshoot problems with. But my favorite thing is talking about the future. Things like her plans for her designs, which are coming together beautifully, and what I’d like to do after fighting—because let’s be real, I’m thirty and won’t be able to be a professional fighter forever. I’ve amassed a small fortune in winnings and sponsorships, which has been invested by someone who knows far more about money than I do, but I don’t want to sit back and live off that.
The obvious choice would be to become a coach or a manager, but I don’t have the patience for politics. I enjoy MMA, but there’s more to me than being an athlete. I’ve been toying with the idea of starting up a community martial arts program for inner city youth. I know my new teammate, Jase Rawlins, has some experience in that area, and I’m sure he’d give me pointers if I asked. I want to do something that makes a difference and proves I’m a better man than my father.
“We’re here,” Camile announces as we pull up outside a networking event hosted by one of my sponsors. It’s a yearly opportunity for people to brag about how important they are. I’m contractually required to attend. Considering everything my sponsor has done for me, showing up isn’t a hardship. Especially when I get to spend the night with my girl.
I draw her close and press a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re stunning.”
She’s wearing one of the dresses from her new line. It’s light purple and brings out the roses in her cheeks. When I look at her, I can hardly breathe because of the way she glows from the inside. It has nothing to do with the dress, nice as it may be. It’s all her.
I get out and open the door for Camile, placing a hand on her elbow to help her out of the car. I keep it there while we enter the building. Cameras flash and someone calls my name, but I ignore them. I’m not the biggest celebrity here tonight, so the media won’t make too much fuss if they don’t get anything printable from me. The moment we enter, Jase’s girlfriend, Lena, appears in front of us, her flame-red hair piled elegantly atop her head.
She offers Camile her phone. “Have you seen this?”
Camile scans the screen, her brows knitting together. While the two women aren’t exactly friends, they’ve come to an understanding. Lena is trying not to hold Karson’s general assholery against Camile, while Camile has apologized for not noticing the way her brother treated Lena when they were dating.
Camile giggles. “Smitten?”
Lena shrugs. “Well, you two are pretty adorable.”
What are they talking about?
I hold out my hand to Camile. “Let me see.”
She passes the phone. It’s open to a web browser with a tabloid headline entitled “Smitten Kitten: Leo ‘The Lion’ Delaney Tamed by Love?”. I scowl as I read the first few lines.
Professional fighter Leo “The Lion” Delaney, a notoriously slippery bachelor, has been sighted several times with a mystery woman. The curvy bombshell seems to have wrapped Delaney around her finger. Has the lion finally been tamed? Read on for more.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t they have anything better to do?”
Lena gives me a look. As a public relations specialist, she knows exactly how much people care about the personal lives of their favorite celebrities and pseudo-celebrities. “At least they haven’t tried to dig up any dirt on you.”
I nod in acknowledgment. She’s right. I should be pleased most media outlets—reputable or not—seem to look on me favorably. The same can’t be said for Jase, who’d been in the middle of a media shitstorm when he and Lena met.
“I think it’s cute,” Cami says.
“Of course you do. They call you a bombshell. That’s much better than a fucking kitten.” There is no heat in my words. Honestly, I’m relieved no one has insinuated our relationship gives me another potential connection to Karson and the drug scandal.
Camile pings, and Lena and I both stare at her. She’s not carrying a purse and, as far as I can see, isn’t holding anything. “Oh, sorry.” She colors, and reaches into the folds of her dress, then extracts her phone. “It’s just an email.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Lena holds up her hands, her tone incredulous. “That dress has pockets?”
“Um, yeah.” Camile smooths the fabric to show her a subtle split in the seam, where she’s concealed a pocket large enough for a phone and maybe a couple of other items.
“Oh my God. That’s amazing. You can’t even tell it’s there. Where did you get that dress? I need one.”
Camile’s shoulders straighten and she beams. “It’s currently one of a kind. It’s one of the designs I’ve drawn up for my fashion line. The seamstress finished with it last week.”
Lena’s jaw drops. “Wow. That’s seriously impressive.” She taps her finger against her chin and a change comes over her. She circles Camile, studying her from different angles. “Have you sold the collection yet?”
“No, but that email is from one of the investors I contacted.”
“Open it,” Lena insists. “What are you waiting for?”
I wrap an arm around Camile and brush my lips against her temple. “Only if you’re comfortable doing that here.”
She seems to stop breathing but then nods and returns her attention to her phone. Seconds pass. I don’t try to read the screen even though I easily could, because it’s up to her to share as much or little as she wants. After a long moment, she squeals and jumps on the spot. Her tits jiggle and I discreetly reach down to adjust myself.
“They want to meet me!”
“Congratulations, baby.” I scoop her up in a hug. “I’m so proud of you. When?”
“On Tuesday.” Her breathing picks up. “I’ve only got a couple of days to prepare. Shit.”
“You’re going to kill it. You’re ready for this.”
She tilts her head back, slowing down enough to get her bearings. “You’re right. I’m completely ready.”
“They’re going to love you,” Lena adds and pulls a business card from her purse. “When they make you an offer, reach out to me at my work number. I have contacts we can use to get you the publicity you deserve.”
“Oh, I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford that kind of thing,” Camile stammers.
“You will.” Lena is one-hundred-percent confident. “Because any investor worth their salt is going to know you can make them a lot of money with dresses like this.”
“Thank you.” Camile grins, but then seems to remember something. “I should tell Mom and Dad.”
I force myself to keep smiling. I’m glad she’s excited to share her good news, but I hope she isn’t expecting too much. I haven’t met them yet, but from what I can tell, her parents overlook how special she is.
Her mother doesn’t respond to Camile’s message until we’re in the vehicle on the way home, several hours later. Her only comment is “It’s a long shot.” I grit my teeth because a locked jaw is the only thing that can keep me from insulting the parents of the woman I care about. Why can’t they see her for the amazing person she is? But then, I guess they’re responsible for raising Karson as well, and if they’re anything like him, they’re probably blind to accomplishments that aren’t sporting. The possibility Karson may have taken after their parents only makes me admire Camile more. She came from the same family, the same background, and yet she’s completely different, in the best possible way. That’s pretty incredible.
Camile
I think I’m going to be sick. I duck into the ladies’ room attached to the foyer of Barnett Investments, the firm I’m meeting with today, and shut myself in a cubicle. I hover over the toilet bowl until the nausea passes.
My phone rings, and Leo’s name pops up on the screen. I cringe. I left him in the foyer while I made my impromptu dash for somewhere safe to puke. He’s supposed to be training today but said being here with me was more important. Not that he’ll be coming into the meeting. I’ll do that on my own. I ignore the call, leave the cubicle, and check myself in the mirror. Smart powder blue blazer, delicate pink top, black pants. I’m dressed for success, all in items of my own design.
“You can do this,” I tell my reflection. “You. Have. Got. This.” I leave the ladies’ room and give Leo a sheepish smile as I emerge into the foyer. “Sorry about that.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” I take the manila folder from him and tuck it under my arm.
“I’ll be right here.” He kisses me. “Go kick some ass.”
“I will.”
I stride to the reception desk and tell the receptionist my name. Within minutes, I’m escorted to the elevator and led through an open office to a conference room. Inside, two women and one man are already seated. They look up as I enter.
“Camile.” One of the women stands and extends a hand. She’s elegantly attired, Black, and somewhere in her forties. “I’m Renita Brady. These are my colleagues, Simon Farrell and Dana Stone. Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” I lower myself into the only available seat and reach for the glass of water I assume is meant for me. I take a sip because suddenly my throat is parched, then I set the folder down and open it to the first page. I’ve practiced my presentation nearly a dozen times, but being here in front of them is different from saying it in front of Leo and Lena.
“We were impressed by what you sent through,” Dana says. “Feel free to start wherever you like, and if we have questions, we’ll cut in. How’s that sound?”
“Good.” I pause for a moment and then all the words I’ve rehearsed pour from me without any conscious thought. I have no idea exactly what I’m saying, but they nod and exchange glances so it seems to be going well. Finally, they begin asking questions. To my surprise, few of them are about the designs. Simon asks about sourcing materials. He jots notes as I stumble through a reply. I’ve looked into sourcing and costing, but the way he studies me over his glasses makes me feel like a kid who forgot to do her homework.
Meanwhile, Dana wants to know how deeply I’ve researched what would be needed to launch the collection, and Renita queries my decision to pitch to them rather than directly to a company. Eventually, they ask me to leave the room while they confer. I wait outside, nerves rioting in my stomach. My palms are clammy and my breath comes in short pants. I can’t believe I actually did it. Even if nothing comes of this meeting, I’m so proud I was able to get through a pitch to investors without making a fool of myself. How many people could say that?
While I’m sitting on the chair outside the meeting room, my phone buzzes. I check it, assuming it’s Leo, but my eyebrows draw together at the sight of an altogether different name: Karson.
Karson: Tell me you aren’t dating that preachy asshole Delaney.
I scowl. I hear nothing from him for ages, and now he wants to butt into my love life? I don’t think so.
Camile: Yes, I am. He’s a really good guy.
It doesn’t take long for Karson to reply.
Karson: If I’d known you wanted to fuck a fighter, I’d have made sure you had a better option. Delaney is a sanctimonious prick.
I roll my eyes. When my brother pulls out the big words, it means he’s really pissed off. Strangely, I don’t care. I’m over his bullshit. Completely and totally over it.
Camile: You don’t actually have any say in who I date. I’m with Leo. We’re together. Deal with it.
At that moment, Dana appears in the doorway and waves me back into the conference room. I put my phone away and ignore the buzzes as it starts to ring. I’ve said my piece. Now it’s up to him to decide if he can handle it.
I return to the same chair I’d previously occupied and keep my feet planted firmly on the ground. I’m so sweaty I could slip off the seat if I’m not careful.
Simon plucks the cap from his fancy pen and then clicks it back into place. “Thank you, Camile. We appreciate you taking time out of your day to speak to us.”
My heart sinks. He’s going to brush me off, I just know it. That’s the beginning of a “sorry, but” talk.
“…and we’d be pleased to offer you enough funding to launch your collection and manufacture a limited run of each item, with future funding contingent on sales numbers.”
I blink at him, uncomprehending.
He takes off his glasses and smiles. “We’d like to invest in you. Congratulations.”
Oh my God.
My jaw drops and I gape at him. Can this really be happening? “Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise you won’t regret it.”
“Here.” Renita passes me a piece of paper with several numbers scrawled on it. They’re big enough that when I read them, I struggle to haul in a breath. “We’ll need to do some additional analysis, but this is our estimate for what we can offer you. We also have a mentoring program we think you’d benefit from, where one of our project managers can work with you to build your general business knowledge.”
“That would be amazing.” I can hardly process it.
“We’ll come back to you with an official contract that your lawyer can review. In the meantime, go and celebrate. You’re about to become somebody to watch in women’s fashion.”
I thank them all profusely, then Dana escorts me out of the conference room and back to the elevator. I squeal as soon as the doors close and I’m finally alone.
They said yes!
Holy crap. I’m going to be a professional fashion designer with a show and everything. I shake my head and then can’t stop shaking it because it’s all so surreal. When I step into the foyer, Leo catches sight of my shaking head and his face falls. Realizing he’s misunderstood, I launch myself into his arms. He catches me and holds me tight.
“They made me an offer,” I whisper. “My dream is coming true.”
He kisses me, and my heart feels like it might explode from an overload of joy. Not only are my career dreams becoming a reality, but my emotional ones are too. I’m falling in love with Leo Delaney, and based on the way his eyes soften as he gazes at me, he feels the same.
“I’m so happy for you.” He pulls me into another kiss—this one a bit too hot and heavy to be appropriate for the foyer of a reputable business. “Let’s go home and celebrate.” He winks. “Naked.”