Page 127 of Corrupting Camille
Another step forward, calm and unhurried, forcing me backward, making me smaller beneath his merciless stare. “Correction,” he murmurs, each syllable dripping arrogance, “I redirected them. Consider it charity, Camille. You clearly needed the help.”
Fury ignites deep inside me, a raw, violent fire I can’t control. My fists clench at my sides, nails biting into my palms hard enough to draw blood.
“You don’t get to touch what’s mine,” I hiss, voice cracking like glass.
His smile widens, darkens, a sinister glint of possession in his eyes. “Don’t I?”
“No, you fucking don’t!” I shout, voice raw and shaking, chest heaving. “You don’t have the right to control my Foundation,” I spit out, each word echoing harshly off the cold marble walls. “You don’t get to block my money, freeze my projects, and act like you’re doing me some twisted favor!”
He just watches me, that quiet darkness intensifying, deepening until it fills the space between us, until the air grows heavy, choking me with silence.
“I built that Foundation,” I continue, words pouring out faster, uncontrollable now. “My sweat, my tears, my passion. I poured everything into it, and you…” My voice cracks again, humiliation and fury burning at the back of my throat. “You walk in likeyou own it, like it’s nothing more than a game, another twisted power move to bring me to my knees.”
Still, silence. No clever retort, no filthy innuendo. Just his relentless advance, one step at a time, pushing me backward inch by devastating inch.
“You don’t get to walk into my life and rearrange it however you want,” I whisper, desperately. “I’m not your puppet. You don’t get to pull strings and watch me dance, not anymore!”
My heel hits something solid, the cold, unforgiving marble ledge along the floor-to-ceiling window, and my spine slams softly into the icy glass behind me. The city stretches far below, glittering lights indifferent, uncaring. I’m trapped, pinned between Kane and the cold glass, heart pounding so fiercely I can barely breathe.
My heart pounds violently in my chest, anger clashing brutally with the heat pooling low in my belly.
He closes in, forcing me tighter against the window, trapping me there without even touching me, like his presence alone is enough to hold me prisoner.
“And Haven House,” I continue, voice raw, breaking over the words. “How dare you follow me there. Watch me. Invade something private, something sacred. Something you had no right to hear.”
He’s an arm’s length away now, his gaze sharp, merciless, dissecting every trembling part of me until there’s nothing left to hide behind.
“You violated every boundary I had,” I whisper, chest heaving, breath ragged. “And then you vanished, left me hanging, waiting for your next strike.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.
He Just stands there, impossibly still, impossibly close. His silence is louder than any words could be, maddening, deafening, cruel.
“You left me wondering,” I choke out, teeth clenched tight, shame burning hot in my chest.
Don’t fucking cry, Camille.
“Wondering if you destroyed another man’s life because of me. Wondering what other chaos you had planned. Wondering if you…if you were with Ivy…”
God. And there it is. The ugly truth ripped out, bleeding raw and bitter between us. Jealousy, hot and sickening, tangling in my chest, clawing up my throat until it burns like acid. The name hangs heavily in the silence, the echo of it shattering what little pride I have left.
I force myself to look at him, to meet those ruthless, unforgiving eyes and ask the question tearing me apart. “Were you?”
I’m frozen, vibrating under my skin, every breath snagging in my throat.
He cups my face with those big, brutal hands, calloused palms against my cheeks, thumbs brushing softly under my eyes like I’m some fragile, precious thing instead of the chaos he made.
He leans in until his breath is my breath, his heat a weight I want to be smothered with.
“Ivy doesn’t exist,” he rasps quietly, voice raw and stripped bare, like each word costs him something he’s not ready to lose. “No other woman fucking exists, Camille. There’s only you. You haunt every goddamn breath I take…every second, every thought.”
And then—
He kisses me.
Slow, God…so achingly slow.
Deep.
