Claire and the Lady Billionaire_Book 8 Read online

  “I’m going to write about the moment I knew it was time to step back and let my daughter take over.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  After making John a green smoothie and a snack, we left him. We walked out along the path to the Sugar Shack. The moon was high. The tide was on its way in and lapping gently at the boulders that rimmed the property. The curtains of the Sugar Shack fluttered behind their screens. Camille was smiling. Seeing that was a relief. “It’s so peaceful,” she said. “I’m sorry I haven’t spent more time out here.”

  “You’re here now,” I said.

  “I am,” she sighed. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

  “You make it sound like it’s been a chore.”

  “Mmm, well, I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”

  I put my arm around her shoulder. “I am happy exactly where I am, doing what I’m doing. I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

  “I promise things will get better,” Camille said.

  I turned to face her. “You were awesome today, and I’m not just saying it because I love you and already think you’re amazing. You really were incredible.”

  “Thank you, baby.”

  “How did it go with your dad?”

  Camille looked out over the water. “He was really calm. He told me how disappointed he was that everything had happened the way it did; that he felt… responsible. He apologized for not dealing with the issues around my sexuality sooner. He said he knew he didn’t do what he should have done to help foster an environment that would be more accepting of me. He said that when he was driving over there with you, he had a moment of realization; that he didn’t want to go back. All he had wanted to do today was to make sure that he left Vermillion ready for me. But when he realized what had been going on, he knew that the time for him to make changes had already past.” Camille’s voice trailed off and she began to cry.

  “It’s up to me now what happens. I’m not acting on his behalf anymore. He’s resigning and appointing me head of the company.” She turned to me. “That’s it. Vermillion is mine.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I suppose I’d imagined that Camille would sit-in for John until he was well enough to take his role on again slowly, that maybe he would advise a larger executive team that was managed in the interim by Camille, that eventually, she would be free to do as she wanted to do, which, I was certain, had much less to do with Vermillion than something else entirely.

  But that wasn’t the way things would go at all. It was only a matter of time before Camille would be ordained CEO of Vermillion Global, and John—perhaps a little too late —would be the one to be set free. I didn’t know whether to be happy for Camille or devastated, whether I should cry as she was then, or feel proud that her destiny had unfolded the way it had always been predicted. Vermillion was now hers. What did it even mean to be in charge of something that big?

  Camille reached for my hand. “I always imagined this happening one day, and now the day has come,” she whispered.

  “How does it feel, honestly?” I asked.

  She looked out over the black water and then closed her eyes. “Not the way I imagined.”

  “You don’t have to do this. Just because John-”

  “No, my love, I want to. I wasn’t sure at first, but now I am.” She turned to me and looked into my eyes. “Remember we used to talk about our perfect future?”

  “I do,” I replied.

  “All I knew was that I wanted to have someone that I loved to share my life with, that I wanted to do good work and make a difference, to do something worthwhile with the life that I had been given.”

  “I remember,” I whispered.

  “Today, my father told me to do whatever I had to do, that he would support me, that he wouldn’t question my direction. He told me that he trusted me, the same way his father told him when it was his time to take over.”

  “Of course, he trusts you. Look at how amazing you are.”

  “I have everything I’ve ever wanted,” Camille said, her beautiful eyes glistened in the moonlight. “I’m ready.”

  My heart swelled for her. It felt like it would burst with pride. If I hadn’t heard her say it and seen the look on her face when she did, I might never have believed that it was the life she truly wanted. But it was as clear as her spoken words; she wanted it, and she was ready. Camille Bettencourt, my Camille, would take over one of the biggest corporations in Asia. And for the first time I wondered, where did that leave me?

  I’d already had a taste of being the wife that never saw her spouse; of taking care of the little things so the bigger structure could run. I’d already felt the loneliness of late nights and missed dinners, of no vacations and few commitments. I’d witnessed the fatigue and exhaustion, and felt worried about how long she would last. What Camille was facing would last years upon years, not weeks.

  I had an indescribable yearning to take care of her forever. It was so simple when I broke it down like that. It was just a job after all, and of course, we would manage. It was what I had signed up for and what else had there ever been? But as I reminded myself of these things, I had undeniable feelings of loss, resignation, and sadness. I had only just got Camille, and now only a fraction of her would ever be mine.

  Camille was watching me, perhaps sensing my deeper thoughts. “I promise this won’t last forever,” she said. “I don’t want to end up like my father. I want to enjoy my life, not watch it all slip away.”

  “Is it possible for things to be different?” I’d begun to question the whole construct. Could a CEO of her caliber have a life outside of work, or would work be the only life she would have until she collapsed and was forced to pass the torch to someone else?

  “I have to believe it’s possible,” Camille answered. She turned to me and smiled. “Because if it isn’t, I don’t want it.” She looked back out over the water. “It’ll take a little time, but… I’ll get us there.”

  She seemed so sure that it made me feel surer. I wanted to believe that if anyone could rewire a company that big and turn an old paradigm on its head, it was her. “I know you will,” I said, though I’m not sure I did.

  She gave me a gentle smile and held out her hand. She lifted me from the rocks and pulled me across the sand. She held open the door to the little wooden house and guided me inside. I pulled off my shirt and threw it on the chair by the door. She slid her arms over my shoulders and kissed the back of my neck. “You seem sad my love,” she whispered.

  I tried not to show it, but when she said it, I knew I had to say something. I turned around and faced her. I lifted my hand to her cheek and gazed into her eyes. “I just don’t want you to miss out on your life. You spend so many days at that office that I’m worried you’ll soon forget the things you really love.”

  “Oh, baby,” she said. “I won’t because you won’t let me.”

  She was right, I suppose. I wouldn’t let her forget the important things. If there was any job I had taken on that summer it had been to bring joy to Camille and her father, to bring levity to what would have otherwise felt like an automaton’s existence, to remind them of the reason why they worked so hard: for family, for the people around them, for themselves. These were important things for me to remind myself of at times when I felt like I could be forgotten.

  “You’re my light and I want you with me, always,” Camille whispered. She bent her head and pressed her lips to mine. Her love and warmth drew me in. There was never any distraction in her kiss. When we were in each other’s arms, she was mine completely. I’d always known that our life wouldn’t be like other couple’s, and that trying to compare one path to another was pointless. Though many like John had lost their loves to too many broken promises, it was possible that our future would be different. I had to believe it. I just didn’t know how.

  Camille wasn’t going to keep letting me drift off into my heavy thoughts. She kissed me with her eyes open and then pulled her head back and smiled. She stro
ked my lips with her thumb. “You’re worried, I can tell.”

  “I’m trying really hard not to be,” I whispered. “I want to be happy for you, but it’s hard after having spent so much time with your father lately.”

  “I’m not like him,” she grinned.

  “Yes, you are,” I replied. “You’re equally as driven, if not more so right now. You want this win, I know you do.”

  “Not at our expense,” she said and gripped my hands. “Claire, believe me. We’re both still young. We have time-”

  “You always wanted to retire at forty, remember? What about that?”

  “Perhaps it’s still possible,” she said.

  I knew it wasn’t. I looked into her eyes. They were filled with love and lightness. They didn’t have the same imminent sense of danger as I was sure mine did. She was taking it all in stride as if it was just another day in her life. I couldn’t fathom it. I was stuck in thinking that we were doomed.

  “Let’s work through this,” she said, guiding me to the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

  I took a seat on the edge. “I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to get stuck doing something just because it was always meant to go that way. It would be different if you were the kind of person that was impassioned by this kind of work, but I’ve watched you for the last month and I’ve witnessed the life being slowly sucked out of you. Please don’t feel bad that I’m saying this, you did the best you could and that was necessary at the time. I’m not complaining for my own sake. Whatever you need and want me to do, I’ll help you but-”

  “Baby, I know,” Camille said.

  “I know this is a huge challenge, and I know you like challenges. Getting a chance to prove that you can do something this big is huge.”

  “It is,” Camille replied.

  I looked down at the floor. I’d said what I needed to say. Time would tell whether any of it made a difference.

  Camille held my hands again. “I want you to do something for me,” she said softly.

  I looked up. “What is it?”

  “I want you to structure my day and hold me accountable.”

  I almost laughed. “But… how do I know when your meetings are? I don’t know what you have to do, day to day, week to week.”

  “Set up a base and I’ll do my best to work around it. Make sure it’s fair, but I will structure what I need to support it. I’m restructuring things anyway.” She seemed serious and she was smiling.

  “Really?” I asked.

  She laid back on the bed and looked up at me. “You already know when and how I start my day. You know I’d prefer to come home at a reasonable time and have dinner with you. I’d like to enjoy my evenings. I’ll be no good to anyone if I’m burned-out. Schedule me to leave at-”

  “How about seven o’clock?” I said.

  “Seven sounds reasonable.”

  “That’ll give you a twelve hour day. Is that enough?”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “Can you take weekends off?”

  “By the winter, perhaps. Maybe not all of them, but some.”

  This was sounding better.

  “Don’t forget, you’re going to be busy too,” Camille added. “You’ll be working with dad and school is about to start again. You need to manage your time just as well.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I’ll need to work weekends too.”

  She sat up again and held out her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  “We have a deal,” I said and shook on it.

  “Good. You’re smiling again.”

  I was, as easy as that. Camille had listened to my concerns and had been willing to find a solution. “You’re good,” I said.

  “I want you to be as excited about this as I am,” she whispered.

  “It’s working,” I said.

  “Come here.” She pulled me further onto the bed and gently pushed me down until I was laying on my back. She straddled my thighs and placed her hands on my chest. “You’ve taken such good care of me, Claire. You built me this Sugar Shack, you made me the Boss Cave. You’ve helped my father learn to relax and find meaning outside of work. All around me is the proof of your love and care for me. Now it’s your turn. I want to make sure that your life continues on the way you want it to; that you do what you want and need to do, and not just continually support me. I want you to imagine your perfect future again, and no matter what it is, I want to help you work toward it. You’ve allowed me to do what I’ve needed but I want this to work for both of us.”

  “I love you,” I said, trying my best not to cry with both joy and overwhelming gratitude. “You can’t imagine how incredible it is to hear you say these things.”

  “Yes, I can,” Camille said. “This is what you give me every day.”

  “Come here,” I said and held out my arms. Camille laid down on top of me and curled herself inside. We held each other for a few beautiful moments before she started to chuckle.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I really hate to wreck the moment, but there’s a spider as big as my hand on the bed.”

  I tried not to scream. “How close?”

  “Close,” Camille said.

  “Is it furry?”

  “Very,” Camille said.

  I whimpered. “Should we back away?”

  “Go slow. It’s a jumping kind.”

  Camille slid off of me and launched herself off the bed. I foolishly glanced beside me and made eye-contact with the spider’s eight bulging eyes. “Gah! It’s huge!” I screamed and levitated off the bed. Camille grabbed our shirts and we both shot out of the Sugar Shack back onto the relative safety of the beach.

  “I would never go in that shed when I was young because of all the spiders,” Camille laughed. “We’re lucky to have only seen one.”

  “I patched an awful lot of holes,” I said. “Guess I missed one.”

  Camille reached for my hand. “Want to sleep inside?”

  “Would you mind?”

  “No. I’m sure we can be quiet.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  We walked back up to the house. John was in the living room, asleep in front of the TV. Camille shook him awake.

  “Is it late?” he asked.

  “Late enough. You should go get comfortable. Claire and I are going to sleep upstairs.”

  “There’s a tarantula in the bunky,” I said when he gave us a puzzled look.

  He started to laugh.

  “You never told me about the tarantulas in the bunky, John.”

  “They take care of the mice,” John said.

  Camille gave him a peck on the cheek. “Goodnight Dad.”

  “See you in the morning, girls.”

  “Your old room or my new office?” I asked when we were upstairs, though I was pretty sure what the answer would be.

  “Let’s try out your new office. We can always switch after.”

  After, I thought to myself; that meant one thing.

  The new workspace had the benefit of being at the opposite end of the house as John’s downstairs bedroom. That gave us more privacy than a city block. She walked into the room and flicked on the light. “Wow, I like the paint.”

  “Pretty nice, eh?” I said proudly.

  “And there’s my lamp,” Camille said. “Well done.”

  I shut the door behind her and locked it. Camille grinned at me and then went and sat in the chair behind my desk. She looked around the room, appreciatively. “Do you think of me when you’re here?”

  “I haven’t really spent any time in here yet, but I think about you always, you know that,” I replied.

  “Hmm, good answer.” She swept her hands over the surface of the desk and then stood up. “Show me what you look like sitting here. I want to be able to imagine you.”

  “Alright.” I traded spots with her and sat back in my new old chair.

  She took a few steps closer. “Have you ever tried working with no shorts on?” She began to grin.


  I had to laugh. “Yes, actually. I take off my shorts all the time. It’s very comfortable.

  “Perhaps you could give me a demonstration,” she said, her face a full smile.

  “Alright,” I said and stood up.

  She watched me unfasten my button and unzip the zipper on my shorts. “Have you ever tried going topless at work?” I asked.

  “All the time,” Camille replied. “I like the way the oak feels against my breasts. It’s very… cooling.”

  I tried not to laugh. “Show me.”

  Camille flipped her shirt over her head and tossed it on the bed in the corner. She held her hands up at her sides. “Would you look at that: my nipples are hard.” She took another step toward me and reached for the waistband on my kitty-cat underwear. She tugged me forward. “You have pussies on your undies.”

  “There’s one inside them too. Wanna see?”

  Camille bit her lip and nodded playfully. I slid them down over my hips and let them drop to the floor. I stepped out of them and flipped them up into my hand.

  “You’re very good at that,” Camille said. “What other tricks can you do?”

  “I’m pretty good at putting my feet up on my desk.”

  “Mmm, show me,” she said.

  I pushed my chair back and then sat down. I lifted my legs and pressed my heels against the edge of the desk. Then I let my thighs drop to the sides. “Ta-dah!”

  “Very impressive,” Camille whispered. Her eyes fell to my center. “The ones on your undies were very cute, but this is the cutest pussy of all.”

  “I’m glad you like it. It’s all yours.”

  “Thank you,” Camille said. She dropped to her knees and crawled forward, tucking herself under the arch of my leg. She slid her hands up my body. “Mind if I have a little lick?”

  “Please, help yourself,” I said with a grin.

  Camille pulled her hair back behind her and was just about to dig in. “Wait,” I said.

  She looked up at me.

  “Take off your bra.”

  Camille grinned again, her eyebrow arched mischievously. She reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, then let it slide down her arms and onto her lap.