Chapter 36 36. I Will Break You, Camila
"Who?"
He went silent, eyes steady on mine.
"My business partner," he said at last. "Let's just say we had a disagreement that turned physical."
"And who is this business partner? The one that tried to kill us?"
"Maybe." He tried to sit up, but I pushed him back down. A groan escaped his throat.
"That's all you're gonna say?"
"For now."
"No," I folded my arms. "You said everything about me is your business, right? Well, your business is mine too. So talk."
A flicker of amusement crossed his face despite the pain. "Using my own words against me?"
"Tell me the truth or don't talk to me at all."
He watched me with those assessing eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.
"It's nothing you need to worry about."
That was the last straw.
"Fine. Then don't talk to me until you decide I'm worth the truth." I pushed away from the bed, but he caught my wrist before I could move further.
"You're not going anywhere. Wounds don't clean themselves."
I pressed my fingers against a dark patch on his chest, hard enough to make him hiss.
"That help?"
His eyes shut tight for a second. "You're going to pay for that."
I smirked. He was still muttering something under his breath as I slipped off the bed and walked toward the bathroom. My reflection looked as tired as I felt. I turned on the tap and cold water hit my face, cooling the burning frustration.
When I opened the door, Lucien stood right there.
Shirtless. Bruised. Holding out his shirt to me like some peace offering.
His pants hung low on his hips making the waistband of his boxers visible. I immediately looked back up to his face.
"What are you doing?" I hissed, slapping his hand aside.
"Making sure no one gets the wrong idea," he said, gaze dropping pointedly toward my neckline.
I followed his eyes and froze. I'd forgotten about the nightdress.
"It's not yours to protect. Anyone can look."
"Anyone tries, and they won't have eyes left."
The threat shouldn't have made my pulse race. I scoffed, folding my arms.
"I'm not wearing that shirt. It probably has your blood on it from getting beaten up like someone helpless. The almighty Lucien Hayes can't defend himself?"
His eyes hardened. He leaned closer, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"I let them hit me. There's a difference. If I wanted to fight back, you'd be identifying their bodies right now instead of questioning my bruises."
Those words sent a shiver down my spine-one that had nothing to do with fear.
"Now take the shirt," he continued, "before I decide there are better ways to make you obey."
I snatched the shirt from his hand and shoved past him. As I slipped it on, I caught a faint trace of his scent-smoke and cedar. My chest tightened again.
What had he gotten into? What kind of fight left those marks on his body?
The smell of frying chicken hit me as I entered the kitchen. Thank God. Mama Cortez was cooking already. But Rafael was there too, peeling potatoes.
Mama beamed. "Darling! No more cold? My boy must've cured you last night after seeing you in that dress." She winked. "I'm surprised I didn't hear moaning."
My face went up in flames. Rafael's lips twitched.
"Mama-no! That's not-nothing happened!"
Rafael snorted.
I glared at him. "What are you laughing at?"
He lifted his hands. "Just saying hi."
Mama waved her spatula. "Go freshen up and tell me all the details!"
"There are no details!"
Arms slipped around my waist from behind before I could protest more. My head tucked right under someone's chin.
"We didn't do it because someone was stubborn," Lucien said to Mama, voice maddeningly calm. "But don't worry. You'll hear her tonight."
Rafael's laugh exploded this time. I couldn't breathe. My face burned so hot I thought I might combust.
I shoved at his hands. "Let go!"
He just chuckled lightly behind me. I broke free and tried running, but his hand caught mine and spun me back into his chest.
He looked down at me with that playful glint in his eyes. Just then, Mama smacked Lucien's backside with her tray.
"Lucien Hayes!" she pointed at his bruises. "You've been fighting again, haven't you? Stop mingling with bad people!"
He laughed softly, holding his palms up. "I'm sorry. It's just that Camila loves bad boys."
Mama Cortez muttered something about crazy men and turned back to the stove.
I stepped away to grab the vacuum from the corner, but Rafael said he'd done that already.
"Did you bring the stuff?" Lucien asked him.
"Don't ever send me on an errand like that again." Rafael's tone was flat. "It's in the car."
My stomach dropped. It must be underwear. He'd made Rafael buy me underwear.
No way!
I stomped back to the room, hearing his footsteps right behind me. Rafael called out, "Want me to bring the first aid kit?"
"No need!" Lucien shouted back. "Camila will take care of me!"
I spun around as soon as we entered the room. "I'm not."
He closed the door. "Please?"
"No."
"Sexy please?"
"No."
"You will. Unless you want to see me suffer." That teasing lilt threaded his every word. "Unless you..."
"Stop it!" I shouted before I could stop myself. "Just stop all of this! We're not in public. You don't have to fake being... whatever this is. You are not charming. Just be the cold monster you really are and leave me alone!"
I waited for him to look guilty, hurt, or disappointed, but he just smirked. It rattled me more than anything.
"I'm not treating these wounds until you agree to do it," he said. "If it gets infected, that's on you."
"Then rot," I muttered-but when he turned away, wincing again, something twisted in my chest.
So I did the only thing left to do.
I spent the rest of the day avoiding him. I helped Mama in the garden, read to the chickens with her, and pretended to nap.
Trying not to care... and failing miserably.
\--LUCIEN'S POV--
"Careful with that," I said as Rafael hauled a case from the trunk.
"I know how to handle equipment, Lucien."
I lifted the smaller case containing the ink bottles and needles. The metal was cool against my bruised ribs. Worth it. Kassim's men had done their job well enough to make this convincing.
"Our guy in Morocco says whoever hacked our servers was good. Really skilled." Rafael said. "Can't trace them."
"I know."
"So we're still in the dark about who helped her."
"For now. But she'll slip eventually."
Rafael gave me a look. "Your plan's working. She's rattled."
"Good."
He hesitated. "Just don't get burned by your own game."
"Meaning?"
"I've seen how you look at her when she's not watching. How you followed her around today even when she avoided you."
"It's called commitment to the role."
"Right. Because following her to the chicken coop was totally necessary."
I pushed past him. "She needs to think I care. That's how this works."
"And when it's over?"
"Then she pays for what she did. An ordinary girl doesn't have connections to steal my fingerprints. Doesn't know how to crash stock prices. Doesn't have the skills to turn Kassim and Valente against me."
"Kassim still won't take money?"
"No. Ten percent of HC or my blood. These-" I touched my jaw "-were just a warning."
"Maybe by the time you figure out how she's connected to Kassim," he muttered, "you won't like the answer." With that, he walked away.
I stood there for a while. The scent of saltwater was heavy in the air.
By the time I reached the pool, the last light of sunset painted the surface gold.
She'll come. Curiosity always wins.
I dropped onto the lounger, whiskey in hand, bruises stinging with every breath.
"Come on, little spy. Show me how long you can pretend you're not drawn to me."
The door slid open behind me.
She was here...