Chapter 27: Chapter 26- His Camelia

His Camelia was the lady in red.

The woman who at one time weaved a spell over him.

The woman who he felt a powerful pull towards.

The same woman who won him over in a span of a short few months.

Her lips. They were the same.  Plump and full.  The only difference was the ruby red lipstick enhanced their shape.

Her eyes.  They changed with make-up, recalling the darkness contrasting the shade.

Her hair.  It was lifted into a elegant bun to the back of her head. The same exact color.

The nagging feeling always in the back of his mind...

Stefan's body began to go numb with shock and disbelief due to the overwhelming feelings running through is brain.  All this time she was right under his nose and he was ever the fool for being so blind.  He should have recognized all along who she was.

Their minds had connected.  Never in his life has he ever paid attention to anybody nor had anyone affected him so much since Camelia.  He sensed her. The deep connection between them was there from the start.  His little princess Camelia was the captivating female he fell for.

Everything seemed to moving slowly as he staggers backward, letting the white sheet fall from his clenched fist absorbing the truth standing before him as he stared intently at the red hot dress. He reached slowly and touched the extravagant beading as if to feel if it were true.

The beads felt ridged under his fingertips and he inhaled sharply, wrapping a hand around the waist of the mannequin as if it were Camelia.  His mind flashed back to that night as he held her, seeking her identity, pleading her to give him her name as pushed against his chest.

Of course she was there.  Standing nervously on the balcony all alone, fearful for appearing on stage.

Stefan pinches his nose and shakes his head at himself recalling the moment her parents stood during the auction and the moment she smiled at them while he never bothered questioning that night's events to Julien.

Not a moment too soon, it hit him as he realized she knew it was him.  Camelia reached out with her eyes, urging him to remember her.  Despite the mask, and ten years, she recognized him.  And she never revealed herself.

Why?

Whatever the reason, for the first time in weeks he smiled–A great warm wave of relief spread over him and suddenly his smile stretched from ear to ear.

The little tease.  His Camelia liked to play hard to get.  Just the way he liked.

The shower stops running in the distance and instantly Stefan releases the mannequin, bends to pick up the sheet and re-covers the dress, leaving it as if it was never undisturbed. He edges behind the slightly ajar door and peered through the crack.  The shower opens and Stefan takes it as his queue.

With quick, purposeful strides he moves from the closet straight for the bedroom door without being seen.  He turns the knob and ever so gently closes the door without a single noise.

He exhales loudly and rakes a hand through his disheveled hair as he crosses the way to the guest bedroom he occupied. His phone begins to vibrate in his pocket.

He frowns at the caller ID and answers.

"Who is this?" He asks harshly, unaware of his hard tone.

"Hello? Sir?" It was Scott, his chief of operations and the man who he left the responsibilities of his companies to.

"Scott..."  Stefan asked holding his phone close to his ear, pacing back and forth once he reaches his room. "How's.... everything going in my absence?

"It's all under control don't worry, Sir.  I am calling to inform you I will be emailing the usual quarterly charts and grand totals."

Stefan stopped pacing and sat on the edge of his bed.

"That's good to hear..."  He trailed off, raking a hand through his disheveled hair again. Stefan usually checked regularly with him but never received a phone call.

"There is one thing I must remind you of sir, we have a meeting this Friday with the chairmen committee, would you like me to keep this appointment?"

Stefan blew a frustrating breath and began pacing again. How the hell was he going to the meeting when he had Camelia to protect? Especially now that another attempt had been made to her life.

Was it time to reveal himself? How would she react? What would she say?

Stefan was sure Camelia would not react well to the lies he'd fed her.

He's hidden his true identity, lied about being gay, lied about his feelings, pushed her away when all he wanted was stamp his claim and make her his.

"Sir?"

"Yes, yes I'm still here. I'll be at the meeting don't make any changes. Anything further comes up, just give me a call." He said ending the conversation.

He threw his phone on the bed, took his shirt off throwing that onto the bed as well and strode to the ensuite bathroom.

Stefan looked at the large mirror and leaned his hands against the vanity. His beard was irritating him and he longed to shave it off. He was sick and tired of growing it out, it only made his skin itch with it's nauseating presence. Eventually he will have to get rid of it and change back his hair color for the upcoming meeting.

Standing upright again, Stefan reached for the drawer that held his electric trimmer and shaving cream.  Finally deciding to start to reveal himself slowly until the time was right to tell her, he began reducing the amount of facial hair until it was a light scruff.

Patting his face dry, he stroked his jaw, relishing in the near-clean shave and finally started to notice his features come to life. He already felt refreshed, feeling the heavy weight on his shoulders lift slightly. Staring at his reflection in the mirror he combed a hand through his pitch black hair, he would have to call Robert and set an appointment the day before his meeting.

Turning away he started to unbuckled his jeans and started towards the ensuite bathroom for a much needed shower. Stepping onto the decorated tile, Stefan stretched his arms against the wall and closed his eyes as the steaming water beat down against him.  He twisted his neck, cracking the joints to relieve the stress.

Stefan pounded the wall with his fists and pushed himself away, slumping against the wall, head back, eyes closed.

It was so hard believe Camelia was the lady in red. The reality was hard to comprehend.

He felt like a fool all this time.  She was right under his nose.

However, a sense of relief spread through him once again.  Initially he wanted one woman–the lady in red and Camelia who were now two-in-one.

Camelia St. James was made for him.  He was more sure of the fact than anything else in his life.

Soon he would tell her for he had no choice. Then he would tell her how much he loved her, and make her believe it. He had to convince her he meant it even after all the lies.

How was he supposed to conduct himself with her in the meantime, Stefan had no idea. Originally, he had planned to stay numb until his job was done, but he would be kidding himself for that trick was impossible when he was anywhere near her. She made him feel...so much.

After finishing his shower, getting dressed, he sat back down on his bed and dialed Liam.  It rang twice before he answered.

"Liam it's me. I need a favor."

"Yes, what can I do for you Stefan?" Liam replies pleasantly.

"I'm protecting a girl named Camelia St. James and I need your assistance and expertise. Whoever is after her is getting closer and I need another set of hands to help. I wouldn't be calling if it weren't important."

"I would be delighted to help. Whatever you need. Just tell me when, where and what time."

Stefan blew out a sigh of relief.

He regularly took matters into his own hands when necessary, acting on what he deemed her best interest. The mission was becoming even more dangerous and what he needed the most was an outsider who could pick up things he otherwise couldn't. With Liam on his side the pressure lessened and the anxiety elevated.

They would be unstoppable.

"Do you have a pen and paper handy. I'll give you the address to my location. Be here tomorrow by noon, if you will."

******

Wrapping a big white towel around her, Camelia stepped into her bedroom. A shiver ran up and down her spine from the chill in her room. Quickly changing into one of her new slips, she places a long silk robe over herself. Striding toward the mirror she brushes the tangles from her dark hair and stares at her reflection.

Camelia couldn't help but remember Kent almost kissing her, tracing her lips with the tip of her fingernail.  She closes her eyes still able to feel his rock hard body molding every inch of hers.

It would had been a lie to say all along she didn't want him to kiss her. Deep down she yearned for the hard pressure of his kiss and her own urgent response to it.

A rumble erupted from her stomach indicating her forgotten hunger. Blinking away from her reflection, Camelia hesitated to go down to the kitchen and see what their cook had prepared. She didn't know if she could look Kent in the eye after today. Hiding in her room for the rest of her life sounded better than eating but the lack of food all day long won over her cowardice.

Slipping out of her room she descends the stairs quickly, passed the hallways into the kitchen where, Mona, was putting the final touches to dinner. Camelia glanced around and found no sign of Kent.

"Hi Mona....have you seen Kent?" She asked reaching for a falafel and taking a bite out of the round ball patty.

"I haven't habibte (Arabic word for sweetheart)." Camelia nodded at her family's cook.

She had been with them since Camelia was born. Mona specialized in cooking Arabic food—a preferred cuisine of the household.  Sitting on one of the bar stools she watched Mona scoop out hummus from the food processor and into a plate.

"Hmmm all this smell so delicious...what can I do to help?" She jumped off her seat and went around the kitchen island.

Looking at the various scattered dishes on the counter Camelia frowned. As always, Mona made enough food for two times the amount of people able to eat it.

"I hope you're hungry, I made enough for a small army! I always forget to downsize especially when your parents are away!" Mona's light Arabic accent exclaimed. "I don't need any help here habibte, just place the completed dishes on the table, dinner is almost ready."

"Yes, I can see that, it was like you were reading my mind." Camelia started to take the various dishes to the dinning room and placed them on the long, twelve seating table.

"Will that young man be joining us?"

Camelia bite her lip. She didn't know if he was. He may be too angry to even look at her let alone share a meal. "I don't know to tell you the truth." She answered.

Mona's dark head of hair lifted as she placed a bowl of tabouli on the side. "Did you two have a lovers tiff?"

Camelia's mouth hung open.

Lovers? Why in the world would she call them lovers?

It's true Mona spent most her days in the kitchen, but the woman had eyes in every corner of her head and probably seen her steal glances at Kent when she thought nobody was looking.

Ugh! I wish the ground would swallow me whole, she thought in embarrassment. It was best if she kept her face blank when he was around, next everybody else will be noticing. Time to do damage control.  Camelia closed her mouth, turned and resumed taking the dishes and placing the finished platters on the dinner table.

"Mona he's gay. And why would you say lovers? He has no interest in me nor I him." She said when she came back into the kitchen and nonchalantly shrugged, withholding part of the truth. She continued to place three plate settings with silverware.

"Baah! Nonsense! Gay!" Mona exclaimed in her accent. When she gets excited her words are much more heavily laced in her accent. She started speaking quickly in Arabic and shaking her head dramatically.

Camelia caught on to every word. Since she was half Lebanese, by blood, why not learn to speak in her native language?  Having taken Arabic for the last four years she was fluent in understanding and speaking it.

"His eyes betray him! He likes men? I don't think so young lady! He looks at you like he wants to devour you whole sometimes...like...like... you were his next meal!" Mona continued in Arabic and Camelia felt the heat rising up her neck and spreading all over her face.

All she wanted to do was duck and cover. Mona's voice reached new octaves, becoming louder and louder. The next door neighbors could probably hear her by now.

Kent could probably hear her all the way up to his room and as far as she knew most people didn't chose the language as a option.

Mona continued to speak in Arabic holding a spatula in her hands emphasizing her words as if she were some conductor of a symphony.

"And you my girl like him too! I see the way your eyes take him in when he enters a room. Your body is betraying the secrets you hold inside your head. What I don't understand is why you both are you holding it in?" Camelia opened her mouth to speak but Mona interrupted her. "Yes, yes, I know you are afraid of what your parents think but if the both of you reveal your interest in one another I don't see why they would object!"

Mona was speaking too close too home. She was also talking to fast for Camelia to form a coherent thought. She face palmed her forehead.

"Mona please do not utter a word to this to anyone, please." Camelia pleaded in defeat, replying back in English. She went to sit on one of the chairs around the table adorned with food. Resting her head in her hands, she closed her eyes as a headache started to take over.

"I don't mean to upset you, habibte. I want what's best for you. Trust me when I say, you both are meant for one another."

Half an hour later they sat across the table, Camelia staring from beneath her lashes every few seconds. His handsome, strong face, was somehow even more masculine with the dark bristles shadowing his jaw.

It was hard to keep the shock from her face when Kent entered nearly clean shaven completely transformed his features. He was a beautiful man behind all that hair. Even with his glasses still in place the nerdy look vanished. Appearing a little more refined, slightly older, and sophisticated he had the appeal of a man with a lot of power and high status.

From the looks of him he had taken a shower taking note of his still wet, combed back, jet black hair.   His lips looked soft yet firm and the dramatic angles of his face softened, but his mood appeared in the set of his broad shoulders and face. He was tense and troubled.

She stared down at her plate, using her fork to spread around her food. Stealing covert glances, Camelia noticed Kent barely touched his plate seeming absorbed by his own thoughts.

Her appetite vanished as they continued to sit there like two strangers. It hurt being ignored. He wouldn't even meet her gaze. It may be due to the danger ahead, but she had a sinking feeling it was her unwanted presence that made him so quiet. His stormy eyes never edged passed her neck.

Camelia wanted to crawl inside her bed, pull the covers over her head, and stay there for the rest of her miserable existence. Partly ashamed by her actions, she could not comprehend how her life had turned upside down. He was probably regretting he had taken the position of her bodyguard, she thought, sulking.

Her crippling insecurities always lurked just below the surface and just then, witnessing him more distant as he sat there, his powerful body seeming to absorb and compel her, drawing the eye so that it became impossible to look anywhere else other than him made the truth hard to swallow.

Everything happening in her life had taken a constant nosedive.  It seemed she couldn't do anything right.  Life was supposed to be warm and fulfilling not bitter and constantly disappointing her.

She hated how she had this addiction to men she felt a connection with. It was rare–that link. That unexplainable urgency inside her that reached out to Stefan first, then Kent. Both were bad for her mental state. Is that what she was attracted to? The emotional danger they challenged?

If that was the case, Camelia felt sick and stopped pretending to eat. Nothing was really as it should be.  Everything was so damn complicated.

She took a drink of her water, then looked up when Kent stood, setting down his dinner napkin, and excused himself from the table in a mumble.

He couldn't even look her in the face. She swallowed. The thought made her feel considerably more awful.

Camelia braced both elbows on the table, and held her head in both hands. "I can't take this." She heard herself say. "He hates me."

"Don't say that, habibte. He's obviously troubled. What happened today? I didn't have a chance to ask you."

Camelia lifted her gaze as Mona reached for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"All hell broke lose. That's what happened."

After re-telling Mona the horrific events of that day she helped clean the kitchen and store the left over food in the fridge.  It was a escape from going upstairs, afraid she'd run into Kent.  Her gaze constantly flickered passed the threshold of the kitchen.

She was weary.  Bone deep tired.

Eventually she bade Mona goodnight and began walking up the stairs, taking them one by one, like a child.  She felt so unsteady she thought she might slip and decided to sit down on the middle step, leaning against the spindled banister.

She sobbed, holding her head in both hands–crying like her heart was broken.

I deserve better than this life, she thought.

****

Snatching a towel, Stefan wipes the sweat off his forehead and switches off the lights before closing and securely locking the door to the gym.  He wished working out would have helped him think and release some pent up frustration but his thoughts of Camelia were never far.

She was in the air he breathed.  She was beside his reflection in the mirror.  She was in his every thought, in every corner of his brain.

The distress emitting off her and the haunted look in her eyes made him feel like such a dick.  The last thing he wanted was to put her under more stress.  He didn't know how much more straining tension they could handle.

He let out a loud exhale crossing back to main level of the house.  Closing his eyes against the glare of the chandelier, he stood alone in the foyer deciding to call it a night.  The house was eerily quiet as it is.

Checking the front door and making sure it was secure and the security system was up and running, he turns and passes the hallway spotting Mona who smiled softly, ready to turn off the kitchen lights.

He only nods in acknowledgment and opened the fridge to grab a water bottle.

"Kent."

He turns.   He hated the name 'Kent'.  The bitterness buried deep inside him slowly but surely began to surface. And he hated the taste of it.

"Yes?"

"I've never seen Camelia so unhappy in all her life.  She's hurting.  Stop tormenting her. Love her like she deserves."

She leaves him silently without another word.  Her words stuck something inside him.  It's like he needed someone to push him in the right direction.

Do it.  Now.  Don't wait. Go to her.   His conscious whispers.

With determined strides Stefan catches up to Mona.

To hell with it all, he was going to shave the remainder of his beard and tell her.  Or else he'd die from the pressure.  The edge of his control was about to snap any way.

"Where is she?" He asks.

The mid-aged cook's brown eyes soften.  She nudges her head in the direction of the grand staircase and silently edges away.

Stefan's eyes snap upwards.

The air in his throat hitches.  Right there she sits.  Alone.  Asleep on her arms against her knees looking ready to crumble down the stairs as her body sways every few seconds.

The side of his lips twitch.  She's adorable, sexy, and sweet, wrapped into one.

Stefan gathered her into his arms and carried her slumped body the rest of the way up the stairs. She didn't wake. He glanced at her face and found her cheeks wet. She had been crying.

His heart clenched.

Nudging the slightly ajar door with his foot, he quickly laid her on the bed. He pulled the light cover over her and stared down at her pale, lovely face in the dark, stroking her hair softly.

"What am I going to do with you?" He asks, shaking his head.

She stirred a little, turning her delicate, heart-shaped face, then stilled, one hand loosely curled near her cheek on the pillow. Stefan leaned down and kissed her smooth forehead, then left without making a sound.

________________________________________________________________________

Don't hate me guys. I warned you all this wasn't going to be easy and I promised many twists and turns.

I wonder if you'll be prepared for the upcoming events in the next couple weeks...

Want a hint...? ------>It's going to be good and bad.

Thanks so much for all the support—comments, reads, votes and additions to your public reading lists.

Until Friday!

Thanks,

Shaz