Page 200 of Corrupting Camille

Marisol laughs, ruffling her sister’s hair. “You’re fourteen.”

Lucía dodges her hand, eyes locking onto mine, curious and bold. “So you’re Camille? Tío Kane’s finally decided he likes someone besides himself?”

I choke back a laugh, charmed by her bluntness. “I think he’s still deciding.”

Lucía grins mischievously. “Bueno, if you survive him, you better come to my quince. It’s gonna be epic. Tio Kane’s paying.”

My smile breaks free this time, and laughter bubbles softly from my throat. “If Tío Kane’s paying, I definitely wouldn’t miss it.”

Lucía beams triumphantly, clearly satisfied, and spins to face Rosa with hands planted on her hips. “You heard her, Mami. Camille’s coming, add another seat. And tell Tío Kane I want those fireworks. The good ones.”

Rosa sighs indulgently, shaking her head as she throws me an amused glance. “Dios mío, this girl is going to drive Kane bankrupt before the party even happens.”

Lucía shrugs, completely unbothered. “He’s rich. He’ll survive.”

Marisol laughs openly, elbowing Reina. “She’s not wrong.”

Lucía gives them a victorious smirk before sliding effortlessly into the chair beside me, leaning in conspiratorially. “So, Camille, seriously, tell me. Is Tío Kane actually nice? Like nice-nice? Because sometimes he smiles, but usually it’s like he’s plotting someone’s murder.”

I nearly choke on my drink, eyes widening in surprise at her honesty, but the twins burst into laughter, nodding vigorously.

“It’s true,” Reina confirms, grinning wickedly. “And usually, it’s Marisol he’s plotting to kill.”

Marisol waves her off dismissively. “Only because I’m his favorite. He pretends to hate me because he loves me the most.”

I shake my head, amused and strangely moved. They talk about Kane so easily, openly affectionate despite their teasing, that I feel another piece of him settle warmly into place.

“Well,” I say, dropping my voice dramatically, “he hasn’t killed me yet.”

Lucía snorts, tossing her curls over her shoulder with a practiced flick. “Give it time.”

Marisol groans dramatically. “Ay, Lucia, vete. Go make your little TikToks or something.” Lucía narrows her eyes but shrugs, already losing interest as her gaze catches on someone else across the yard. She jumps up from the chair, pointing a finger in playful accusation. “Fine, but if my dance goes viral, none of you better ask for a shoutout.”

Reina rolls her eyes, waving Lucía off dismissively. “We’ll survive somehow.”

Lucía laughs, already darting away and shouting for one of her cousins, who’s instantly roped into filming her latest TikTok masterpiece.

The twins exchange a look, something silent and unspoken passing between them as the three of us settle deeper into the patio furniture. The sunset pours over the yard, soft goldbleeding into the sky, brushing pink and purple hues like bruises across the horizon.

Kane

The laughter from the backyard drifts, softening the harsh edges of my tension. Camille’s presence there is oddly soothing, and it strikes me sharply just how easily she fits here, blending effortlessly with people who have known nothing but violence and loyalty their entire lives.

It unsettles me.

I wander toward the large windows, gaze locked on the grounds outside, tracing the meticulous perimeter my men maintain, dark figures stationed like deadly sentinels. Vigilance is a habit that’s sunk deep into my bones, and letting it go, even for a second feels like inviting catastrophe.

Diego steps beside me quietly, his presence solid, familiar. The silence that stretches between us is weighted, loaded. He knows the ruthless, calculating bastard I’ve been forced to become. He knows the monster Camille summoned, the one she refuses to fear. And he knows exactly how dangerous I become when something precious is threatened.

“You’re distracted,” Diego murmurs carefully, breaking the silence. “Nunca te había visto así, Kane.”

My jaw tightens, fingers clenching around the whiskey he hands me. “She’s a distraction worth killing for.”

“Clearly.” He exhales slowly, eyes flicking toward the kitchen where the twins’ excited voices mixes easily with Camille’s soft laughter. “But the threat is real.”

“I know,” I reply, my voice colder than intended. “I won’t allow anything to happen to her. I’ll gut anyone who even tries.”

Diego’s chuckle is low, understanding, edged with a similar darkness. “I don’t doubt that, hermano. But maybe you need toconsider what Camille is becoming to you…beyond obsession. It’s vulnerability.”