Chapter 213: Useful Bimbo

He didn’t return the smile. He said nothing as he walked farther into the penthouse and sat on the sofa opposite her with the air of someone resigned to disappointment.

Camille lowered her phone.

That wasn’t the reaction she had expected.

She had assumed he would want updates. He always wanted updates. He wanted a better understanding of what Dorian was doing and where Naomi fit into it.

So instead of wasting time trying to read his mood, Camille decided to go straight to the point.

"I know you want updates... and I assure you..."

"I know exactly what you have been up to, Camille." Alistair interrupted her so calmly that she stopped mid-sentence.

Her brows lifted. "Oh. So... you don’t seem too elated at my progress."

"No."

The answer was flat.

Camille’s confidence wavered slightly.

"I’m afraid our paths do not align anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"You sabotaged the investigation into Whitmore."

"For information."

As far as she was concerned, she had made a calculated trade.

"I know a whole lot about everything now." Camille leaned forward, clearly expecting this next part to impress him. "Did you know Dorian and Naomi have a contract marriage that expires in three months?"

"That’s all you got? That’s what you are proud of?" Alistair looked offended by the stupidity of the information.

"It proves everything I’ve been saying. And he is going to pay her five hundred thousand dollars. I was right, she married him for his money."

"Didn’t you?" Alistair asked, raising a brow at her.

Camille’s mouth parted. "Alistair..."

He didn’t even bother pretending he hadn’t meant it. "You married him for money too."

"That is not the same thing."

"Of course not," he said dryly. "Your motivations were far more sophisticated."

Camille’s jaw tightened, but Alistair had already moved on.

"Whitmore has one of my biggest clients by the jugular. I wanted Dorian to investigate him and ruin him."

"I did not know that."

"Of course you didn’t. Because once again, you didn’t tell me what you were up to."

"I’m... I’m sorry. I thought..."

"That is precisely the problem. Camille, you are incapable of having a functional thought all by yourself. You have no functioning brain cell. Hell, every time I speak with you, I lose intelligence points."

"Alistair!"

"Let me finish. Your dumbness was why I found you useful. It was why Dorian married you because, hey, a bimbo is the perfect bride to hang on your arm if you are trying to make partner. But my God!" Alistair continued. "Your stupidity is on a whole new level!"

The last words echoed around the penthouse.

Camille stared at him, stunned.

There had always been an understanding between them. An ugly one, perhaps, but an understanding nonetheless.

Alistair had backed her, financed her and helped create the version of her life she wanted everyone else to envy. He had never exactly treated her like an equal, but he had always made her feel useful.

Tonight, he was looking at her like she had become an inconvenience.

Camille stood slowly. "I can do this. I can get him back." She lifted her chin. "I know Dorian. I know what gets to him. I know what his weaknesses are. Naomi is not as secure as she pretends to be, and I already have enough information to start pulling them apart."

Alistair rose to his feet. "I don’t actually care anymore if you get him back or not. All I want now...whatever his assistant gives you, I want it."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it." Alistair walked past the sofa, then stopped. "Whatever comes from that office, I want it. Well, until Dorian finds out and buries you both."

Dorian did not tolerate betrayal well.

If he discovered one of his own assistants was leaking his schedule and information to Camille, there would be consequences.

And if he discovered Camille had been using that access to manipulate his wife?

Alistair pitied her. "In the meantime," he added, "you may keep up your appearances with my money." He started toward the elevator, then stopped once more.

For a moment, he stood there as though debating whether the next question was even worth asking. Camille had already managed to interfere with one investigation he actually cared about, and every additional piece of information he gave her seemed to come with the risk that she would somehow misunderstand it, weaponize it badly and create another problem for him to clean up.

Still, curiosity won in the end.

He glanced back at her. "Anything from Dorian’s assistant about a man named Maxwell Hawthorne?"

Camille frowned slightly as she searched her memory. "Uh... no. No."

Alistair studied her face to make sure she wasn’t hiding anything, then gave a small nod. "I want every one of Dorian’s movements and investigations weekly. Everything he is looking into, everyone he meets, anywhere he goes that seems remotely important."

Camille folded her arms. "You suddenly want an awful lot from someone with no functioning brain cells."

Alistair’s mouth twitched. "The assistant is probably the only useful idea you have ever had." He seemed perfectly satisfied with leaving the insult exactly where he had placed it. He turned and walked toward the private elevator, stepping inside without another word.

Her eyes narrowed.

Alistair had been perfectly happy to use her. He had funded her lifestyle, encouraged her when it served his interests and treated her connection to Dorian as valuable whenever he needed access.

Now suddenly she was too stupid to think for herself?

Fine.

Let him believe that.

Alistair might only want information on Dorian now, but Camille wanted something much bigger.

She wanted her husband back.

And she was going to get him back.

Camille refused to treat Naomi’s position as permanent. As far as she was concerned, Naomi had stumbled into a contract marriage, gotten comfortable in a life that did not belong to her.

Enough waiting. Enough planting tiny seeds and hoping Naomi eventually noticed them. It was time to put her plans into overdrive.

Camille smiled to herself.

When this was over, Alistair would take back everything he had said about her.

She would prove that she could do this without him directing every move.

And when Dorian finally came back to her, she intended to make sure everyone who had underestimated her watched it happen, including his sisters.

*****

Dorian had just finished packing for their weekend getaway when the doorbell rang. He zipped the bag and glanced toward the bedroom door.

"I’ll get it!" Naomi yelled excitedly before he could move.