Page 123 of Corrupting Camille

“Don’t come here,” I blurt out, breathless, raw. “I’ll come to you. Just…don’t show up here.”

A heavy pause fills the line.

Then his voice returns, dangerously smooth, smug, triumphant.

“Good girl.”

Bastard.

My eyes shut tightly, shame twisting hot and deep, pride unraveling completely. I’ve handed him exactly what he wants: my surrender.

“Joaquin will be there in ten,” he says casually.

I take a shaking breath, eyes squeezed shut, trying desperately to steady my nerves. Trying to convince myself I have choices. That this isn’t inevitable. That I’m not being dragged back into his orbit against my will.

But Kane Rivera isn’t invisible.

He’s everywhere.

He’s in my blood, woven into every breath I take, occupying the hollow space inside my chest where logic used to live.

I rush to the closet, yanking a long wool coat from its hanger, throwing it over the lace barely covering my skin. I don’t change, don’t even consider it there isn’t time. Sneakers slip on silently, my pulse loud and frantic in my ears.

I slip through my bedroom door, moving quietly, swiftly, like a criminal trying desperately to escape unnoticed. My sneakers pad silently across the hallway, but my chest…

Chaos.

Panic threaded tightly with hunger and need.

I feel like the walls are watching me, judging me for running straight into the fire I should’ve learned to fear by now.

But I don’t stop.

My parents are somewhere on the opposite side of the house, probably awake, trapped in their cold world of calculated decisions and polished facades.

Oblivious.

They have no idea their perfect daughter is slipping out into the night to meet the one man who could ruin everything.

Again.

By the time I push through the front entrance door, the car is already there.

Sleek. Black. Engine humming low.

Of course it is.

Kane doesn’t wait on people.

People wait on him.

The headlights slice through the night, catching the edge of my breath, my hesitation.

I could still turn back.

I could lie to myself for one more night.

I could pretend I’m not already his.