Nothing Else Matters

By Jewelle Moore

He stole her heart at sixteen.

On a lunchtime visit to her father's office, Camille Bromwell sees her father's new business partner, Zachary Cadbury-Taylor stride masterfully into the building and falls head over heels for the tall, dark-haired, gray-eyed hunk.

Gave her a brief taste of heaven at eighteen.

The day after her eighteenth birthday, she sneaks around to the office to tell him how she feels about him. He tells her that she's too young for him, tells her to find someone of her own age. But, not before giving her a little prelude of how wonderful it would be if she was his woman.

And stakes his claim on her at twenty-three.

The only thing standing between their happiness is her beloved father. He strongly disapproves of interracial marriage having been once bitten himself. His heart condition is an added complication. It's impossible for her to please both of the men in her life: making one happy could kill the other. She knows that Zachary won't wait forever, but can she risk everything to prove to him that nothing else matters but their love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: ShadesOfGrey Publishing
• Release date: Feb 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224218882

Book preview

Prologue

01 September, 2013.

Sixteen-year-old Camille Bromwell toyed with the ends of one braided plait as she sat, one plump leg thrown over the other, in her father’s outer office.

It was the first time she’d been in the new building since her father had acquired a new business partner and the name of the business had been changed from ‘Bromwell’ to ‘Bromwell & Taylor’.

She was shocked by its size and opulence.

Only five months ago she’d overheard her parents discussing the business and her father saying that if things didn’t pick up soon, he would have no choice but to file for bankruptcy.  He’d said then that he was grateful that he’d had the forethought to create a limited liability business so that the bank couldn’t come after their home.

It had appeared as though the chocolate business into which he’d poured so much of his time and energy was doomed.

Then two months ago everything had changed.

She knew a lot about Zachary Cadbury-Taylor, the man who had saved her father’s business, knew that he was English, thirty-two years old and from a very wealthy family.

She hadn’t yet met him, but her father talked about him so much, she often felt like asking why he didn’t just adopt the man as his son.

She hadn’t voiced the words because she’d known that they would have been too painful for him—his only son, her half-brother Allister, had died tragically at the age of twelve.

She also knew that her father was disappointed that neither she nor her older sister Elizabeth had an interest in becoming a chocolatier like him.

Camille might have been more interested in chocolate creation, if her father’s passion for it had ever generated a steady income.  All her life chocolate making had represented instability and uncertainty.

She’d liked constancy and reliability, and that’s why she was drawn to Math with its rigid rules and theories.

Her school friends teased her good-naturedly that she would be the only female in the class if she pursued the degree in Math or Statistics she planned to when she went to university.

She and the group of five girls had remained firms friends since starting secondary school, but their interests had diverged wildly.

Sometimes she wondered if they were even the same species.

While they giggled over movie and pop stars in teen magazines, and even sometimes pimply boys passing in the street, she busied herself solving the hardest Sudoku puzzles she could find.

All of the other girls had been kissed by at least one boy; no one had yet sought one from Camille and quite frankly she wasn’t sure that she wanted them to.

The boys in her class were mostly pizza-faced, loud-burping, smelly-farting Neanderthals.

She knew that none of them had asked her for a kiss because they saw her as ‘the fat friend’.  Although at five-foot-six and weighing a hundred and fifty pounds, she wasn’t exactly waddling down the road when she walked.

One of the boys had once called her ‘a porker’ when she’d refused to lend him her spare pen for note taking.  She guessed that in contrast to her friends who were all barely over a hundred pounds, she would seem fat to him.

Her mother Dominique had told Camille time and time again that she shouldn’t worry about her weight, that like her older sister she would lose her puppy fat naturally.

Camille believed her; Elizabeth who was seven years older had indeed lost hers as she’d matured.

And in many ways, Camille didn’t mind being a little fat because it served as a protective armor against boys.  The only time any of them approached or bothered her was to ask her for a favor if they wanted a message or a note passed to one of the other girls.

She would probably like boys better one day but for now—

The heavy doors near the lift and stairs opened and she looked up curiously.  Her father had said that his new business partner wouldn’t return to the office until after lunch, but perhaps his meeting had finished early.

Her father had described him as a handsome devil.

He was wrong.

The man was gorgeous!

He was about six feet tall and had a full head of dark hair that looked silky and thick.

As she stared at him, Camille felt her heart somersault in her chest.

He was talking on his mobile, but he nodded and gave her a smile through the glass front of the office.

She was too astonished to acknowledge the greeting or smile back, too stunned by the discovery that she did in fact like boys.

Only much older, more sophisticated ones...and ones of a different color?

From the time they were little girls, her father had warned her and Elizabeth that he would kill them if they so much as let a man of another race come close enough to sniff them.

The threat hadn’t bothered Camille.

For one, she’d known that though her father could be rigid and even ruthless sometimes, he would never actually kill anyone.

And for two, she’d never considered the possibility that she would ever be attracted to a white man.

Or was it just this white man with his sexy walk, his wide, easy smile and air of confidence?

She prayed that it was simply the shock of seeing him for the first time that had made her heart suddenly beat faster.

She desperately hoped that she hadn’t done the very thing Elizabeth had done when she’d laid eyes on Arjun Kumar: fall in love at first sight.

Elizabeth had said that it was a mutual feeling, that her Indian boyfriend had felt it at the same time.

If this was falling in love at first sight, then Camille would just have to fall right back out of it.

There was no way a man like him would fall madly in love with a girl like her!

*****

Chapter One

13 September, 2020.

7 years, 1 week and 5 days later.

Glancing down at the elegant gold watch on her wrist, Camille gave a soft sound of irritation and lengthened her stride.

She was fifteen minutes late for her rendezvous with Zachary; her father had called her on the landline just as she’d been about to leave her apartment.

If he’d called her mobile phone, she would have continued the conversation in the taxi.  But despite her arguing that his high-tech cordless phone was probably just as bad for his health as his mobile phone, he preferred not to use his unless it was absolutely necessary.

Since he was expecting her to spend the evening cleaning her apartment—as she’d told him she would be—she couldn’t have rushed him off the phone.

She could have reminded him that he shouldn’t be talking business until he officially returned to the office from sick leave on Monday, but he’d seemed oddly concerned about the financial reports.

Camille could have also told her father that she doubted Zachary would have let the business fall into ruin in the two weeks he’d been off following his mild heart attack, but she’d willed herself to exercise some patience.  Her father took care of the financial side of the business and it was understandable that he was worried that things might not have been done correctly in his absence.

But because of his phone call, she’d rushed out to the waiting taxi ten minutes late.

The driver hadn’t made a fuss since he would have started the meter running as soon as he’d pulled up to her address.

After calling Zachary to let him know that she was going to be late, she’d taken several deep breaths to calm herself down.

Then, just before she’d reached her destination, a broken-down vehicle had added another five minutes to the delay.

As irritated as she was, as she strode confidently along the corridor to the Deluxe King Room, a smile parted her lips.

This was such a contrast to her first visit to The Ritz almost a year ago.

Then she’d kept her head low, not quite believing Zachary’s promise that she wouldn’t be recognized by a reporter or someone who knew her father.

The oversized sunglasses had obscured most of her face, but it hadn’t looked out of place since many of the hotel’s celebrity guests had also made an effort to hide their identity.

She found masks as tiresome as most people did, but if there was an upside to having to wear one indoors during the pandemic, it was the fact that it further obscured her identity.

It had soon become clear to her that Zachary had chosen the hotel with good reason.  There was little chance of her bumping into anyone who knew her.  Though the hotel offered spectacular views over Piccadilly, it wasn’t considered trendy enough by many celebrities.  It was only the ones who wanted the quintessential London experience who frequented the hotel with its elegantly furnished bedrooms and marble bathrooms.  For them, the truly unforgettable hotel was second to none in luxury and comfort.

She tapped lightly and then pushed the door open even before a deep, voice called out, Enter!

Zachary was lounging on the large bed, doing his best David Gandy impression, looking impossibly male and handsome.  A crystal snifter on the bedside table with about a half an inch of golden liquid with a distinctive fiery red tint and mahogany hue told her that he’d been enjoying his favorite cognac.

Sorry I’m late, she apologized as she quickly locked the door.

Remind me to spank you later for the torture you put me through.  He was wearing nothing but a pair of black silk boxers, his splendid erection plainly visible through the soft material.  I almost started without you.

She laughed as she let her full-length coat drop to the plush carpet.

Happy birthday, Baby!

As a bra, the black underwired garment she was wearing served its function by supporting the weight of her breasts.  That was as much as could be said for it.  The cups consisted of two neatly tied bows that barely covered her nipples and left everything else bare.

The matching panties suffered from the same lack of material, except it had one bow strategically placed to shield her femininity.

What do you give a man who has everything? she’d asked herself when she’d popped into Ann Summers to grab something new and exciting for his delectation.

She’d come across this little number and decided that herself wrapped with bows would be the most appropriate present for his 39th birthday.

His sharp intake of breath told her that he was very pleased with his gift.

Jezebel!

In one smooth motion, he reared up off the bed and scooped her up into his arms.

Do you like your gift? she asked.

Very much. he replied, slipping one finger under the bow covering her left nipple and exposing it to his searing gaze.  It’s the best gift I’ve received this year.  Thank you.

You’re very welcome, she replied with a soft chuckle.

Now, let me unwrap it and enjoy it.

She laughed as he unhooked the bra and threw it across the room before giving the panties the same treatment.

He rolled on top of her and she welcomed the hard press of his body and the even harder, insistent poke of his erection against her lower body.

I missed you, he told her.

Her laughter faded as he caught her gaze and held it.

"And I missed you," she admitted.

She parted her lips as he lowered his head and as the honeyed aroma of him and the cognac flooded her senses, she thought, how could this be wrong, when it feels so bloody right?

She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as his hands found her already semi-erect nipples and prepared them for the exquisite torture of his mouth.

The kiss went on and on, deep and soul searching, his tongue sometimes dancing with hers, sometimes pushing into her throat to simulate the deep penetration that would follow.

She had no head for alcohol but it wasn’t the cognac on his tongue that made her feel intoxicated.

This man was everything she wanted in a man and more.

And he was hers for the taking...if she could only ignore the wish of another man who was equally important to her.

He broke the kiss and pressed his lips to her lower jaw and then to the nape of her neck, finding the exact spot that drove her out of her mind with need.

All thoughts of everyone and everything else were banished from Camille’s thoughts as she reached into his boxers and wrapped her hand around the hard length of his erection.

The familiar feel of it made her instantly impatient.

There would be time enough for foreplay and erotic teasing later.

For now she needed him inside her, needed to feel that completeness that she only felt when their bodies were connected.

She freed him and guided him to her entrance.

So impatient, he scolded with an amused chuckle, but he was no less impatient as he lowered his head to claim her lips as he slid inside her with one deep thrust.

Hmm!  The muffled sound was torn from her as she wrapped her legs around his hips and undulated hers from side to side in counterbalance to his strokes.

They had danced this dance many times before and it still felt as good as it had done the very first time.

They moved in perfect harmony to music that had no melody and needed no words.

***

The next morning as she wriggled into the crushproof dress she’d brought along with her the evening before, Zachary sat up in the bed and gave her a fierce, narrow-eyed look.

She knew exactly what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

Camille, we can’t go on like this.

I know.  She leaned over and kissed him.  I know.

We’re both consenting adults and we should be able to declare to the world that we’re together, instead of sneaking around like guilty teenagers.

You know what my father’s views are.  I don’t intend to let him keep us apart for much longer.  I just want him to be a little stronger before I break the news to him.

I know, Baby.  He pulled her down for a long kiss and then released her.  You’ll be late for church if you don’t hurry.

The taxi he’d ordered was dutifully waiting at the entrance.

As she sank back against its leather seat, she almost purred.

Zackary had been almost insatiable last night.

The candlelit dinner for two in their room had been cooked to perfection, as always.

She doubted that she would be able to concentrate on a single word the pastor uttered in the service today.  She would have skipped it, but no Bromwell was allowed to miss church on Sunday.

‘Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy’ was probably the only one of The Ten Commandments her father Ernest obeyed; he made a point of going to church every Sunday, rain or shine.

And perhaps, ‘Thou shalt not kill’.  She was almost sure that he’d never murdered anyone.

It was just a shame that the church was the place where her father had met many of the women with whom he’d had extra-marital affairs.

The only thing in his favor was the fact that he must have warned each and every one of them that he wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect to his family.  None of the women had ever upset Camille’s mother Dominique or even looked sideways at Camille or Elizabeth, who had married Arjun three years ago and moved to the USA with him.

Her father gave generously to the church and was the first person the pastor approached if there were unexpected repairs to be done, or expenses that hadn’t been budgeted for.

Her father seemed to think that going to church every Sunday was enough to get him into heaven.

Camille would have probably gone to church more often than not, even if her father hadn’t practically enforced it as a law.  She’d grown up in the church and still felt uplifted by the songs of praise and the sermons preached on Sundays.

The trouble was that there were Sundays, like today, when church was the last place she wanted to be.

If she was Catholic, she would have needed to go to confession for the very naughty things she and Zachary had done last night.

As the driver pulled up in front of Camille’s address, she reached into her purse for a £50 note and handed it to him before she exited the taxi.

Zachary would take care of the fare itself, but she always tipped the drivers who picked her up and brought her home on his behalf.

Hurrying to her bedroom, she pulled the dress off over her head and flung it onto the chaise lounge near her window.

She’d showered—or more accurately been showered and then moisturized by Zachary before leaving the hotel.

He had done both to punish her.

First he’d used the silicon body exfoliator that had lately become her new best friend and her Chanel No5 shower gel to give her a thorough clean, paying marked attention to certain parts of her body.

When she’d thought that she would go mad from the torment, he’d rinsed her body off, wrapped her in one of the luxurious bathrobes the hotel supplied and laid her on the bed.

Not content with having her already aching with need, he’d insisted on massaging body lotion into her still moist skin.

He’d known that she’d left the hotel wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of the day in bed with him.  Her only consolation was the fact that she’d left him every bit as aroused as she.

He’d once told her that the way the Chanel No5 shower gel and body lotion blended with her body chemistry drove him wild.

He’d set out to punish her a little for not being brave enough to tell her father that they were in love and wanted to get married.

But he’d ended up suffering, too.

***

After contorting her body every which way in order to pull up the zip of the taupe Fendi dress, Camille realized that it was a little snugger than she’d anticipated it would be.

Damn!

She didn’t have