Signed, Sealed... I'm Yours

Progress

I wish I could erase that night from my memory.

But the image of myself, overcome with embarrassment as I hastily excused myself, willfully clings to my thoughts. She, mercifully, refrained from laughter, but I knew my abrupt departure must have been comedic in its own right. I still can't fathom how it happened—

My reverie is interrupted by the sensation of fingers tapping against my hand. I look up to find Frederick's concerned gaze, grounding me back to reality.

Clearing my throat, I address the room, including Eliot Winchester, the enigmatic businessman, who pauses his presentation to regard me expectantly. "I believe I have a grasp of our potential collaboration. I'll reach out if any further questions arise, but for now, I'm comfortable handing over the reins to Frederick," I declare, rising to collect my belongings.

Glancing at my watch, I inwardly cringe at the realization that it's only eleven in the morning. As the CEO of a major construction firm, my days are often long and arduous, a responsibility I've shouldered since I was groomed for the role from a young age, following in the footsteps of my great-grandfather.

Entering my office, I find my father standing by the window, lost in a murmured conversation. His brief acknowledgment of my presence as I sink onto the couch signals the end of his call.

"Was that mom?" I asked loosening my tie a bit.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, just discussing some places we can go for our anniversary," he replied occupying the seat opposite me. Aside from the sprinkling of grey in Henry Miller's sandy brown hair and the gentle creases framing his eyes, it was challenging to pinpoint my father's age. Many likened us to twins, noting only the distinctions: my emerald-green eyes, reminiscent of my mother's, and a nose resembling hers as well. They had met during their college years; he hailed from a well-to-do family, their wealth stemming from a lineage of successful enterprises and astute investments made by my late great-grandfather, Edward.

In contrast, my mother, Emma Miller, came from an upper-middle-class background, their prosperity stemming from generations of successful farming endeavours in a quaint town. When my parents married, it wasn't merely a union of hearts but also a merger of fortunes—wealth that demanded clear-headedness in all matters.

"That's nice, I'm sure you're looking forward to it. what places did you have in mind?"

"Your mom wants us to go to the Maldives, but I prefer going to Italy, but for the sake of maintaining peace we agreed to going to the Maldives," he grumbled, and I chuckled lightly. I had often been granted a front seat to their silly arguments whenever they didn't meet eye to eye on a particular matter. "But I won't complain, happy wife, happy life, huh?" he smiled, but his face fell when he noticed the serious facial expression I wore. "Cameron..."

"Don't I'm fine, honestly," I replied lifting the corners of my lips into a forceful smile. My father nodded his head quietly observing me and I grew curious at the numerous emotions I saw flashing in his light blue eyes.

"You know its been almost four years since everything happened," he mumbled leaning forward to stare intently at me, his facial expression unreadable, "when do you think you'll be ready to put yourself back out there. Your mom and I aren't getting any younger and we want some grandkids. We want to see you happy."

I threw my head back suddenly feeling exhausted, "Here we go," I muttered standing up to discard my suit jacket.

"We're allowed to be worried, and you're allowed to put yourself back out there my friend, Isaac's daughter, Lucy is moving back to the city. And we though –"

"I must be that bad if even my own parents are trying to set me up," I scoffed, reaching up to rub my temples at the feel of a headache setting in.

"It's not our intention to make you feel bad, but when you were still with Julianne, you spoke of wanting a family and I'd like to believe that that's still something you want," he replied coming to stand before me. Meeting his gaze, I sensed the mix of pity and concern reflected in his eyes, a testament to how withdrawn I had become. Neil had made concerted efforts over the past two years to coax me out of my shell, and it was only in the last year that I started to reclaim traces of my former self. The numbness that once enveloped me began to recede, and I found myself able to speak her name without succumbing to despair.

Perhaps... just perhaps, I could entertain the notion of taking a chance. It seemed foolish to believe I could continue frequenting the Den of Desires, indulging in fantasies of that enigmatic dancer. I couldn't remain hidden forever.

"Look," I paused releasing a heavy sigh, "I get why you're concerned, and I do want to be happy. I'll consider meeting her but if I do don't start thinking kids are going to pop out, nothing might not even come out of it," I chuckled nervously.

My father beamed, reaching up to give me a tight hug, "Just your willingness to try is a step in the right direction. Now as much as I would love to stay the golf course is calling my name."

Laughing I clapped his back gently and escorted him to the door, "Nice to see you're finally enjoying retirement."

"You and I both know it wasn't easy waking up not having anything to do, but overtime your mom got me to see the brighter side of things."

Nodding at his words, we said our good-byes and I was left alone to deal with my own company. Ambling towards my desk I plopped onto my chair to close my eyes.

A million thoughts flooded my mind but there was always one which without fail would bombard my system with embarrassment lately and made me cringe anytime I was alone.

Just being in her presence turned me into an adolescent boy who had just discovered sex for the first time.

But a small part of me, a part that I didn't want to indulge in couldn't help but admit the feel of her grinding on me was beyond intoxicating. If there hadn't been any clothes, any barriers I wouldn't mind dying like that.

I would have died a happy man.

Groaning at the sound of my phone, I reached into my pocket to pull out the device to see a message from Neil that had me in a rare moment releasing a string of curse words under my breath at the message.

You better get as much rest as possible this week princess cause you ain't sleeping Saturday night birthday boy – The Brat