Chapter 42 Your superior

Chapter 42 Your superior
Camille stared at the older woman, examining her reaction. Well, what was done, was already done. She couldn't change, better go with the flow. “Well... when you put it that way, it sounds worse,” she admitted, voice small but steady. “But since I already know how good you are, you’ll definitely handle her well. Just like you do me.”

The air stilled.

The words dropped between them like a live wire, crackling, heavy with implications she hadn’t meant to make. Camille realized it too late. Her mouth parted, but no words came. Her heart lurched. God, no. Not like that.

Holland blinked once. Then twice. A flush crept up her neck, faint but impossible to miss. Her composure, usually bulletproof, faltered for half a second,jaw tightening, and lips parting as though her brain was still catching up.

Her stomach twisted. Did Camille Lustrelle just say that?

“Ms. Lustrelle.” Her voice, when it came, was low and icy. Controlled. But her eyes betrayed her. They were far too wide, startled, and far more human than she wanted them to be. “Do you have any idea how unprofessional that sounds?”

Camille’s pulse raced. She wanted to melt into the carpet, but instead, laughter, nervous, light, ridiculous, bubbled up. “Wait, what?” she blurted, throwing her head back in disbelief. She had to play this off. She had to. “I didn’t mean... oh my God, Chief, seriously?”

Holland knew she was supposed to be furious. She was furious. But watching Camille laugh like that, it threw her balance off in a way she wasn’t ready for. The rich, melodic sound disarmed her completely. 

Camille caught the look and grinned wider. “I didn’t mean anything sexual... wait, were you thinking..."

“Either shut up or get out,” Holland snapped, a little too fast.

The heat on her face deepened. God, this girl... this girl was far too bold for her liking.

Camille was still chuckling, covering her mouth but failing miserably. “No way, Chief! You were thinking it!” she teased, voice breaking into laughter again. 

“Ms. Lustrelle,” Holland warned, her voice dangerously low, the kind that carried both restraint and an edge sharp enough to draw blood.

“Alright, alright,” Camille said, still fighting her grin though her pulse flickered under the tension. “No harm done, right? Back to business then, since you don’t wanna play ball. Chief, my intentions were in the right place.”

Holland’s eyes flicked up, cold and precise. “Intentions don’t fix consequences, Ms. Lustrelle.”

The use of her last name landed like a slap. Camille’s shoulders straightened, the teasing light in her eyes dimming. For a second, all the humor drained from her face, replaced by something quieter, chastened, stung. “Understood,” she said softly.

Holland sighed, sinking back into her chair. Her hand dragged through her hair, a rare crack in her composure. “God, Camille… you can’t just decide things because they ‘feel right.’ This isn’t a high school project.”

Camille’s tone gentled, hesitant but still holding her ground. “I know that. But I’ve heard you say time and time again that marketing is about timing and intuition, right? Sometimes we have to move fast.”

Holland’s stare cut across the desk, her gaze so level it could’ve frozen the air between them. “You quoting me doesn’t make this better.”

Camille’s lips curved, small and sheepish. “Worth a shot.”

Holland glared, but the edge of her mouth twitched, just barely. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told that before,” Camille said, shrugging lightly, her eyes roving over the irate woman. “Usually by you. But I guess I’ll have to change that in time.”

Holland leaned forward, pen in hand, her tone snapping back into steel. “This isn’t charming, Camille. You need to understand boundaries," she uttered calmly, though she knew her voice betrayed her. "Also, you cannot talk to me like that. It’s unprofessional, and I’m your superior.”

Camille tilted her head, eyes narrowing, something fierce and unyielding flickering behind them. “Superior?” she repeated. “We’re both human beings, Holland. God, when you get like this, it’s… it’s impossible to deal with you.”

The room stilled. The words hung there, too bold, too honest. Holland’s pen hovered above the desk, her knuckles paling where she gripped it. A muscle in her jaw worked, once, before she drew a slow, deliberate breath. The air between them thickened with restraint.

Holland closed her eyes for a long moment, fighting the twitch of something, anger, disbelief, maybe both. “You’re testing me,” she said finally, her voice low, and measured.

“Never,” Camille replied with a grin that betrayed exactly the opposite.

One of Holland’s eyes cracked open, sharp and unimpressed. “You can go,” she said quietly, each word deliberate, steady, controlled.

Camille hesitated, shifting her weight, uncertainty flashing across her face. “So… the meeting...?”

“No,” Holland said firmly, the word cutting through the air. “Cancel it.”

Camille’s face fell, her lips parting in protest. “But Chief...”

“I said cancel it.” Holland didn’t look up. She picked up her tablet, pretending to scroll through it, though her eyes didn’t move, her focus fixed anywhere but Camille. “And take your bribe with you.”

Camille’s hands moved automatically, reaching for the cake box. Her shoulders were tight, her smile gone. “Right. Of course. Sorry for...”

“Wait.

The single word cut through the space like a command. Camille froze mid-motion, pulse quickening. Slowly, she looked up. “Yes, Chief?”

Holland looked up from her laptop, her expression unreadable. The glow from the screen framed her face in cool light, softening the edge of her anger. It was clear from the start she couldn’t back out of this meeting, not without compromising everything she stood for. Her morals wouldn’t let her. Her work ethic wouldn’t, either. She let out a slow sigh, the fight leaving her voice just slightly.

“Prepare everything. I don’t want any mishaps.”

Camille blinked, the words taking a second to register. “Wait... what?”

“You heard me.” Holland leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking beneath her. Her tone was resigned, the weight of authority softening into reluctant acceptance. “You’ve already lit the match, might as well control the fire. Prepare everything. I want this meeting spotless.”

For a heartbeat, Camille just stared at her, almost not believing what she’d heard. Then her eyes brightened, her lips curving into a grin that spread warmth through the tension. “Yes, Chief.” Her voice carried a spark again. “Already did. I got you the best of the best. Only for you.”

Holland paused, caught off guard. Her pen stilled mid-air, suspended between pages of notes she’d stopped seeing.

“Only for me?” she repeated, her tone lower now, less command, more curiosity.

Camille nodded, still smiling, the confidence in her eyes softening into something warmer. “Only for you.”

Holland didn’t respond. She turned her chair toward the glass wall, the skyline stretching wide and brilliant before her. The city below pulsed with its own rhythm, steady and detached from the quiet storm in her office. Her reflection in the window looked back at her, composed, tired, maybe even a little undone.

Behind her, Camille lingered for a second, watching her. Then, quietly, she placed the cake box back on the desk, a small, hopeful offering returned to its place. “Thank you, Chief,” she said softly.

Her heels clicked gently against the floor as she turned and made her way to the door.

Holland exhaled, long and slow, her fingers brushing her temple as she stared out at the skyline.
Her day had barely begun, and Camille Lustrelle had already turned it upside down.

Again.