He didn’t trust himself around her. Not that he would ever do anything she didn’t want, but still. The attraction that had flared up between them was something he was doing his best to ignore. It was all very well pretending to be engaged for a couple of weeks. Kissing and holding hands and stuff was fine to add a little authenticity. More than fine. But taking it any further?
Not a good idea.
A dumb idea.
An idea that had unfortunately taken root in his brain and was winding its tentacles throughout his body like a rampant vine. He had only to look at Violet and those tentacles of lust coiled and tightened in his groin.
But how could he act on it? Even if it was what she wanted? It wouldn’t be fair to her to get her hopes up that he could offer her anything more than a casual relationship. He hated hurting people. If he broke Violet’s heart he would never forgive himself. Her family would never forgive him either.
Engaged via social media.
What a nightmare. How had he got himself into such a complicated mess?
Cam walked Violet to the door of her flat but when they got there it was slightly ajar. She stopped dead, cannoning back against his body standing just behind her. ‘Oh, no...’ Her voice came out as a shocked gasp.
Cam put his hands on her shoulders. ‘What’s wrong?’ And then he saw what she had seen. The lock had been jemmied open, the woodwork around it splintered. ‘Don’t touch anything,’ he said, moving her out of the way. ‘I’ll call the police.’
* * *
Within a few minutes the police arrived and investigated the scene. The police told Cam and Violet that several flats in the area had been targeted that night in the hunt for drugs and cash. Once they were allowed inside, Cam held Violet’s hand as she inspected the mess. And it was a mess. Clothes, shoes, books, kitchen items and even food thrown around and ground into the carpet as if the intruders were intent on causing as much mayhem as possible.
Cam could sense Violet’s distress even though she was putting on a brave face. Her bottom lip was quivering and her brown eyes were moving from one scattered item to the next as if wondering how on earth she would ever restore order to the place. He was wondering that himself. ‘I... I’ve got to call Amy and Stef,’ she said in a distracted tone, fumbling for her phone in her purse and almost dropping it when she found it.
Cam would have led her to the sofa to sit down but it had been slashed with a sharp object, presumably one of the kitchen knives the police had since bagged and taken away for fingerprinting. He shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if Violet had been alone inside the flat when the intruders broke in. Who knew what this new class of criminals were capable of these days? It didn’t bear thinking about. He picked up an overturned chair instead and set it down, making sure it was clean first. ‘Here, sweetie. Come and sit down and I’ll call the girls for you.’
Violet’s expression was a mixture of residual fear and gratitude. ‘Would you? I’m not sure I can think straight, let alone talk to anyone just now.’
Cam spoke to both of Violet’s flatmates, telling them what had happened and that everything was under control now as he was organising an emergency locksmith to repair the lock. ‘And don’t worry about Violet,’ he added. ‘I’m taking her back to my place.’
Of course he would have to take her home with him. There was no question about it. He couldn’t leave her in the trashed flat to lie awake all night in terror of being invaded again. Or worse. It was the right thing to do to take her home with him. What friend wouldn’t offer a bed for a night or two? He wasn’t one for sleepovers. He liked his space too much. But this was Violet. A friend from way back.
It was a pity his body wasn’t so clear on the friend factor, but still. His hormones would have to get control of themselves.
While the locksmith was working on the lock, one of Violet’s elderly neighbours shuffled along the corridor to speak to her. ‘Are you all right, Violet?’ the wizened old man said. ‘I didn’t hear a thing. The sleeping pills the doctor gave me knock me out for most of the night.’
Violet gave the old man a reassuring smile. ‘I’m fine, Mr Yates. I’m glad you weren’t disturbed. How’s your chest feeling? Is your bronchitis better?’
Cam thought it typical of Violet to be more concerned about her elderly neighbour than herself. The old man gave her a sheepish look. ‘The doc reckons I should give up smoking but at my age what other pleasures are there?’ He turned his rheumy gaze to Cam. ‘And who might you be, young man?’
‘I’m Violet’s—’
‘Friend,’ Violet said before Cam could finish his sentence.
Mr Yates’s bushy brows waggled. ‘Boyfriend?’
‘Fiancé, actually,’ Cam said with a ridiculous sense of pride he couldn’t account for or explain. He knew it was beneath him to be beating his chest in front of an elderly man like some sort of Tarzan figure but he couldn’t help it. Boyfriend sounded so...juvenile, and lover, well, that was even worse. Violet wasn’t the sort of girl to take a lover.
Mr Yates smiled a nicotine-stained smile. ‘Congratulations. You’ve got a keeper there in Violet. She’s the nicest of the girls who live here. Never could understand why she hasn’t been snapped up well before now. You’re a lucky man.’
‘I know.’
Once the locksmith had finished and Mr Yates had shuffled back to his flat, Cam led Violet back out to his car with a small collection of her belongings to see her through for a few days. Not that she could bring much as most of it had been thrown about the flat. The thought of putting on clothes that some stranger had touched would be horrifying for her. It was horrifying to him.
He glanced at her once they were on their way. She was sitting with a hunched posture, her fingers plucking at her evening bag, her face white and pinched. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I don’t know how to thank you...’ She gave a little hiccupping sound as if she was fighting back a sob. ‘You’ve been so amazing tonight. I really don’t know what I would’ve done without you.’
Cam reached for her hand and placed it on top of his thigh. ‘That’s what friends—or rather, fake fiancés—are for.’ His attempt at humour didn’t quite hit the mark. Her teeth sank into her lower lip so hard he was worried she would puncture the skin. She looked so tiny and vulnerable it made his chest sting. It made him think of how she must have been after that wretched party—alone, terrified, shocked, with no one she felt she could turn to. If only he had known. If only he had been there that night, he could have done something to protect her. Violet was the sort of girl who made him want to rush off for a white horse and a suit of armour. Her trust in him made him feel...conflicted, truth be told.
He wanted to protect her, sure, but he wanted her, period. Which was a whole lot of capital T trouble he could do without right now. Bringing her home with him was the right thing to do. Of course it was. Sure, he could have set her up in a hotel but he sensed she needed company. Her parents were too far away in Scotland to get to her in a hurry, so too were her brother and sisters, who lived in various parts of the country.
Cam was on knight duty so it was up to him to hold her hand.
As long as that’s all you hold.
* * *
Violet had held off tears only because Cam had done everything that needed to be done. He’d taken charge in a way that made her feel supported and safe. The horror of finding all her possessions strewn around the flat had been such a shock. She felt so violated. Someone—more than one someone, it seemed—had broken in and rifled through her and her roommates’ things. They had seen her photo with the girls at Stef’s last birthday celebration stuck on the kitchen door, which meant she might one day pass them in the street and they would know who she was but she would have no idea who they were. It was like being back on the university campus