Chapter 48
2564words
The instant Camila leaves, I fall limply into my chair.
Fuck ...
This news is a bombshell. The emotional part of me is concerned that she stormed off, calling me a liar, but the logical side of me is busy racing to think of ways this changes everything.
Because everything has changed in an instant.
Yannick is her father, I think, drawing my hand down my face. That explains everything. Why Yannick was hanging around her family studio after Stepan's death. Why Yannick called to threaten me when he knew I took Camila. Why Yannick never showed up at the wedding.
He'd never dare risk Camila in any potential crossfire. He'd rather slink back into the shadows than risk his own daughter's life.
How could I have been so stupid to not see this?
But that's when another thought hits me, and I sit forward with a start. Camila's relationship with Yannick makes her powerful. She's no longer 'just a nobody," as my brigadiers thought. Their opposition to my plan no longer holds weight.
My frown draws my whole face downward. She didn't believe me when I said I hadn't known about this.
Thinking about the revelation makes me ponder how Camila managed to pry the truth out of her mother. This had to have been something Katinka planned to take to her grave. Camila did something to change the course of that solemn decision. How? And why now? Tiny hairs on the back of my neck stiffen. I cast my eyes toward the door where Camila stormed out as a dark thought takes shape in my own mind.
I'm aware that people's hearts can blacken.
Camila's heart, for example.
Is it possible ... that they're plotting to betray me?
I crush the dangerous thought as quickly as it rears its head. Camila has no reason to switch her allegiance from me to Yannick. But what about her mother? Katinka may still flip. And Camila loves her mother dearly. Might that be enough to sway her to become my enemy?
Rising rapidly to my feet, I shake my head from side to side, trying to chase the thought away. But like an infection, it has already taken root. I refuse to think of Camila as a backstabber. She's angry with me, I know, but that's not the same as flipping sides.
We're having a baby together.
What I have to do now is focus on our future.
It's time to tell her about making the marriage real.
A cursory search of my house, and Camila is nowhere to be found. A twinge of panic crawls up my spine when I come upon her in the entryway by the front door. She's peering through the blinds with her body turned away from me. I peer at the window, wondering what she's looking at … what she's thinking about.
Blessed with a moment to observe her in peace, I consider how to approach her with my news before settling on the most direct approach.
'Camila."
She turns toward me with a slight tilt of her head. She doesn't act surprised to see me, as if she's been aware of my presence the whole time. 'What is it?" she asks.
I walk until I'm beside her. She doesn't shy away, which is a good sign. 'Everything that's happening … I know it's overwhelming."
'That's putting it mildly," she mutters.
'Perhaps we should look at things from a new angle." I pause for emphasis. 'One that would benefit us both."
Camila faces me with her arms wrapped around herself in a knot. 'Go on."
Here it is. Tell her plainly. 'I want us to make our marriage real."
'Is that all you have to say?" Her eyes fly open before narrowing under her thick lashes. 'You're not even pretending to hide the fact that you think I'm an asset you can use for your own twisted purposes."
'That isn't what I'm doing."
'So this has nothing to do with the fact that I'm Yannick's daughter?"
I keep my face expressionless. Of course, that's her assumption. I can't blame her. 'I came to this decision before the news."
That gets a sarcastic laugh out of her. 'Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"
There's an opportunity to lie, but from the daggers in her eyes, I know it will make things worse.
'I do," I admit.
'But the fact that I'm Yannick's daughter also plays a part, doesn't it?"
'Yes," I reply. 'It does."
Shaking her head in disappointment, she walks toward the opposite window. 'Do you know how awful this is for me? Not just the reality that Yannick is my goddamn father, but the way you want to use me?"
Indignation sends defensive anger flaring through me. 'I'm not using you."
'Aren't you?" She glares hotly at me, then away. 'Again and again. I'm forced to do whatever you want me to. But you—you're allowed to deny me at every single turn. It's not just unfair. It's cruel."
My attention tracks to the window she was gazing out of. Clenching my jaw, I walk intentionally toward the front door. 'Come with me," I say.
'Why?"
Ripping the door open, I flood the room with sunlight. Camila shields her face with her arm. 'You've been begging to go outside since the beginning. Now's your chance."
Her arm lowers hesitantly. 'You're serious?"
'Yes. And when we're done, you'll give me the respect of hearing me out."
Camila cranes her neck to look around me at the outside world. The last time she went through these doors was when she attended our wedding. I hope this will remind her of that. If it stirs her heart, she'll be more open to my plan to make our marriage real.
On steady legs, she walks through the door. My heart gives a hopeful beat as I follow her at a distance. Kostya, guarding the front door, stands straight up in surprise. He's about to chase after Camila when he notices me. I give him a subtle shake of my head and he stands down at once, moving back against the wall. His eyes stare after Camila uneasily, but I know he won't interfere.
There was urgency in her steps when we left the house. But now Camila slows down, her head turning as she takes everything in. She's seen glimpses of my property on our way to and from my car, as well as whatever angle the windows provide. That's not the same as walking across the lush grass that leads through the rose garden. I've seen enough of her inquisitive frowns and widening eyes to know she likes what she sees. I even catch her smiling to herself a few times. If the crisp weather combined with the views and clean air can't cheer her up, nothing will.
She remains silent the entire walk. Her attention is focused on what's immediately in front of her: flowers, fountains, marble statues I've commissioned over the years. This part of my mansion is peaceful, but it can never hide the turmoil that dwells behind its walls.
Camila stops short, pointing into the distance. 'What's that?"
'My private sanctuary," I say, seeing what she's looking at.
'I want to go there."
I wave my hand forward as if to say she should go ahead. Camila doesn't wait for my hand to come down before she's already walking briskly to the building. I'm done observing her reactions from afar.
Surging with confidence that I've done the right thing, I enter the building behind her. Closing the door, I wait a second before speaking. Camila is turning in a circle, marveling at the small yet intimate space.
'Let's talk calmly about the marriage."
She smiles fondly at the table, tracing her fingers along the burnished wooden edge. 'No, I don't think I will."
I balk. 'Camila …"
'I said what I said." Camila angles her hips to one side, smiling smugly. 'How does it feel to be used?"
'I'm not using you!" She might as well have slapped me in the face. It would have hurt less than her snide remark. 'I swear it!"
'The way you reacted to the news about Yannick, you were less surprised than if I had told you your own birth date."
Familiar anger surges through me again at her flippant reply, and it's hard for me to keep my voice calm and even. 'Why is it so difficult for you to believe that I had no idea Yannick is your father?"
'Because you lie as easily as you breathe!" she snaps, matching my tone. 'You think I'm naïve enough to think you'd tell me the truth? About anything?" She steps closer. Despite the difference in height, she gets right in my face, her eyes flashing with anger. 'It doesn't matter what you say or how you say it. I will never, ever believe a word you say without wondering what else you're hiding from me."
My jaw clenches tightly, and I feel control slipping through my fingers as I tower over her. But this time, she doesn't retreat. She maintains her glare, even as our noses are about to touch.
'Then why are we even doing this?"
'Why don't you tell me?"
'Don't be fucking stubborn, Camila," I warn her.
'Or what?" Her sneer makes her pretty face into something impish, and I feel my cock leaping to life at the thought of wiping that smirk off her face. Her tongue rolls slowly over her lips in a wanton motion. 'Are you going to punish me for standing up to you?"
She's egging me on, and it's working. Because she's right. Every second she continues to defy me incites the monster within. Every second she stands here, refusing to bend, makes me want to break her, to conquer her, to remind her that she's under my control. 'Careful, Camila. You have no idea how thin the ice is under your own feet."
She stabs her finger against my chest defiantly. 'Fuck you!"
She parts her lips in surprise when I grab her by her left wrist.
'Enough!" Yanking her against me, I grip her lower back, my free hand seeking the curve of her ass as I grip her tightly against me. She yelps at my touch, responding to the visceral contact.
'I've spent enough time with you to know your weaknesses, Camila," I whisper in her ear. My hand rises to tease its way into the crack of her ass through her dress until her breath quickens in response.
'Is that what you really believe?" she whispers as she presses her soft body against mine, daring me to do something."
'Breaking you down … controlling you … is a skill I've already mastered. It's easy."
The warmth of her soft curves shivers against my body. Black creeps into the edges of my vision. My fingers tighten against her, savoring the feel of her flesh yielding to my touch. I'm about to lose control.
She tenses up like a piece of iron and thrashes in my grip. I let her go, giving her just enough space to back away until the table is a barrier between us. Her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes are burning heat. I know she's furious at me, but her nipples poking through her dress tell me what else I've done to her.
'Don't you fucking call me that," she snarls.
'Call you what, ptichka?"
'Easy," she spits. 'I'm no easier than you are."
I laugh huskily in the base of my throat as I begin to circle the table to reach her. 'I'm aware of the effect you have on me." With each step, she tries to walk away, but both of us know there is no escape. 'I want you all the fucking time."
Her eyes widen at my words, and the outline of her nipples grows clearer with each step the two of us take around the table.
'I dream of you," I whisper as I stalk her. 'It's pleasure and torture all combined into one big hard knot, like there's a whole new organ inside my chest that pumps blood for you and you alone. I can't escape it."
Camila keeps pace with me, constantly moving so that we're on opposite sides of the table, preventing me from closing the gap. She swallows visibly. The bobbing of her elegant throat sends a thrill through my blood.
As does the mixture of lust and fear mingling in her eyes.
Suddenly, I stop moving. The door is behind me. Fear overwhelms her eyes when she realizes that she's trapped.
'Fuck you," she whispers. 'Fuck you, Asher. You can't keep me here forever."
'If you think you can escape now, after you accused me of being a liar when I have been nothing but truthful with you, then just try it." I step aside slightly to let her see the door and cross my arms. 'But if you fail …"
Without warning, she lunges for the door, but I grab her before she gets out of reach of my long arms. Camila yelps, her voice shaky—not with fear, but with desire. I recognize the sound of her arousal. I see it on her. I smell it on her. I feel it in the way her body instinctively arches back to meet mine.
Her hand claws at the door. 'Let me go!"
'I warned you, didn't I?" I bend down and whisper in her ear, 'If you fail …" I slip a hand down and hike up her dress. Camila gasps again when I drag my fingers through her soaked panties.
'Oh, ptichka," I chuckle darkly. 'You're wetter than I expected."
'Fuck you! Fuck you!" There's anger on her tongue, yet by the way she breathes—heavy and hot—I know she's losing herself to her own filthy urges. I know she wants to be punished.
I push her against the door until her breasts are pressed against the hard wood. She starts to lift herself up to push me away, but I keep her there effortlessly. My fingers slip beneath her soaked panties, and with a single, swift motion, I rip them away.
She gasps when I trace the outlines of her wet pussy. She tenses when I push a finger into her inviting warmth. My other hand grips her chin and turns her just enough so that she can see me.
Another finger enters her delectable pussy, and this time, she can't fight back the moan that punches from the back of her throat. I thought we'd gotten away from that brand of violence. Her cheeks flush, as if she can't believe this roughness can excite her like this.
But it fucking does.
I start moving my hand and Camila shifts her hips back to match me, stroke for stroke, until her legs start quivering from my touch. My cock strains against my pants, pushing painfully against its restraints as it demands to be let loose.
But not yet.
I want to make her beg first.
'I'll scream."
'Go right ahead." I press my weight against her and the door as my hand savors the softness of her ass, her wetness coating my fingers, and the sound of her breath turning into pants as I bring her closer and closer to ecstasy. 'Scream for me."
