Eve eagerly offered to stay behind with Dylan in Cammy’s apartnt, ensuring he wouldn’t feel alone while she and Greg went to Richard Cross’s mansion for dinner.
"Dylan can hang out with Cassey and have so fun. I’ll keep an eye on them," Eve said with a knowing smirk. "But let’s be real—I also want the full scoop on whatever bombshell Richard is about to drop."
Cammy let out a small chuckle, though a flicker of unease crossed her face. "Sothing tells tonight will change everything."
Greg sighed, placing a reassuring hand on her back. "Whatever it is, we’ll face it together."
Eve grinned. "And I’ll be right here, waiting for all the juicy details when you get back."
Upon arriving at the Cross estate, Cammy and Greg stepped into the grand foyer, where Aarya Cross, Greg’s stepmother, greeted them with a knowing smile.
"Welco, Cammy," she said, her voice warm yet asured. "Gregory, your father is still in his office, caught up with his lawyers and accountants. He may take a while."
Greg sighed but nodded. "Is there sothing wrong with the company?"
Aarya shook her head. "There’s none. They are just discussing so legal matters for compliance with the law regarding taxes for the company and inheritance, since you will finally join the company. They just arrived fifteen minutes ago."
"Hmm... I see, it may take a while then," Greg remarked.
Aarya smoothed a hand over her silk dress. "Dinner isn’t quite ready yet. Why don’t you show Cammy around?"
Greg turned to Cammy, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Want a tour of my childhood kingdom?"
Cammy chuckled. "Lead the way, Your Highness."
Greg led her to the piano room first, a grand space with floor-to-ceiling windows and a glossy black grand piano sitting like a throne in the middle of the room.
He sat down, flexing his fingers over the keys. "I used to play when I needed a distraction. Plus, my father and Aarya technically forced to learn, so..." he admitted.
Then, without another word, he began playing. The lody of "Can’t Help Falling in Love" filled the room, slow and haunting.
Cammy stood frozen, the music weaving around her like a spell. Greg’s eyes t hers as he played, sothing unspoken passing between them. When the last note faded, Cammy let out a shaky breath.
"That was beautiful," she whispered.
Greg smiled. "Co on. There’s more to see."
Next was his childhood bedroom, frozen in ti. Posters of old rock bands covered the walls, programming books were stacked haphazardly on a wooden shelf, and a dusty soccer ball sat in the corner.
"You were a cliché teenage boy," Cammy teased, running a hand over the desk.
Greg let out a small chuckle, his lips curling into a half-smile. "Completely. I used to spend most of my ti locked away in my room. I didn’t have any real friends back then—except for Harry."
Cammy arched an eyebrow as she slowly wandered around the room, her fingers grazing over old books, childhood trophies, and a few dusty picture fras. "So, you were an introverted kid?" she mused.
Greg smirked, shaking his head. "Not exactly. I was more... rebellious and angry. I just didn’t know how to deal with all that frustration, so I kept to myself. My grandfather always told to control my emotions, and the only way I knew how was by shutting myself away, throwing myself into studying and playing soccer."
A shadow crossed Cammy’s face as she glanced at him. "Gosh, I really hope Dylan doesn’t turn rebellious when he gets older," she admitted, her voice marked with concern.
She moved to the bookshelf, trailing her fingers along the spines of old novels, lost in thought.
Greg’s expression softened. "He won’t be," he reassured her, reaching out and gently taking her hand. He tugged her toward him, guiding her onto his lap.
"You’re doing an incredible job raising him. My situation was different... My mother left here when I was about Dylan’s age. She didn’t say why. One day she brought here, and then, she was just... gone."
Cammy’s breath hitched, her heart aching for the little boy Greg had once been. "Oh, Greg... I didn’t an to bring up sothing painful," she whispered, resting a hand against his chest.
Greg shrugged, but his eyes held a flicker of vulnerability. "It was a long ti ago," he murmured, his fingers tracing absentmindedly along her waist. Then, his lips twitched into a small, sincere smile. "Besides, I’m happy now—because I have you."
Cammy’s heart squeezed at his words.
He reached up, cupping her chin lightly between his fingers. "But I did try to find her and my half-brother when I first started Cross Tech. I searched for years, but I kept hitting dead ends. Eventually, I gave up."
Cammy studied him, her eyes searching his face. "Maybe you should try again," she suggested softly. "Technology is way more advanced now. Maybe this ti you’ll actually find them."
Greg considered it, his thumb absently brushing over the curve of her jaw. "Yeah, maybe. But part of wonders... what if she didn’t want to be found? What if she disappeared for a reason? Maybe she’s happy now, wherever she is."
Cammy nodded slowly, understanding the hesitation. "Maybe you’re right. But Greg... she’s still a mother, like . And no matter what happened, I know that wherever she is, she’d be proud of the man you’ve beco."
Greg’s lips curved. "And what kind of man is that?" he teased.
Cammy smiled, running her fingers across his face before playfully pinching his cheek. "A good man. A successful man. A generous boss who actually cares about his employees and not just the profits. A dependable friend... and a loving boyfriend."
Greg’s smirk deepened. "I think I like that last part the best," he murmured.
Before Cammy could respond, he leaned in and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss against her lips. But as soon as he pulled away, he realized that a simple kiss wasn’t enough.
His gaze darkened, his fingers tightening at her waist as he pulled her in again—this ti, capturing her lips in a deeper, slower kiss. One that held more than just affection. It held desire, devotion, and an unspoken promise of sothing more.
Cammy lted into him, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, her body pressing into his warmth.
And in that mont, nothing else existed—only the heat between them, the quiet understanding, and the love they both felt, even without saying it out loud.
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