Chapter 7

Camila POV

Shit. Perfect timing, huh?

A few meters from home, the sky darkens to match my mood. Just as we pass through the estate gate, the rain starts — a full-blown downpour, with wind that rattles the windows and thunder that makes the glass hum. Droplets pound against the glass like a thousand tiny drummers.

I let out a slow sigh, letting the sound soothe me. Rain has always been my calm — the way it drowns out everything else, like it could wash away my problems too. But as much as I love the sound, I hate the feeling of it on my skin.

The car stops. I grab the handle, ready to make a dash for the door — only to be blocked by a wall of muscle. Matthew, of course, holding an umbrella in one hand and his other out for me to take.

I roll my eyes. I’m still seething from earlier. I’d rather get drenched than let him think he’s my knight in shining… whatever.

I step past him, but before I can make it far, his hand clamps down on my shoulder and pulls me back — straight into his chest.

Every muscle in my body should be tense, but instead, I feel my bones melting. His chest is hard, solid, and for one dangerous second, I let myself sink into it.

“Let go of me,” I snap, trying to twist away.

“Stay still,” he growls, the deep rumble vibrating through me.

And I hate it — hate that my body reacts to him like this.

Before I can protest again, his arms hook around my waist, lifting me clean off the ground. I let out a hiss, kicking in the air. “Put me down!”

He doesn’t. He just walks forward like I weigh nothing, handing the umbrella to the guard as he carries me straight inside.

Everyone in the living area freezes — my mom, Aunt Ava, even the maids — eyes wide at the sight of Matthew hauling me in like I’m a runaway cat.

“Mom!” I try, but she and Aunt Ava pretend not to see us, turning and heading right back into the kitchen. Traitors.

Before I can yell again, a familiar voice cuts through the air.

“Matthew.”

Matthew stops, setting me down — though I have to grab his arm for balance when my feet hit the ground.

“Big Daddy!” I grin, running straight into Uncle Vincenzo’s arms. He’s been away for a week, which is rare, and the sight of him makes something in my chest loosen.

“You’re back. I missed you.”

“I’m back now, child,” he says warmly, patting my head. “Matthew isn’t bullying you, is he?”

I give him my best innocent look and shake my head, though I feel Matthew’s stare burning into the side of my face.

“Don’t scare the boy,” Aunt Ava calls from the kitchen — though the way Uncle Vincenzo’s gaze instantly locks on her tells me he’s more interested in his wife than in Matthew.

He pulls her in, and she melts into him like they’ve been apart for months. The sight makes my chest ache — not with jealousy, exactly, but with the quiet realization that I’ve set my bar too high.

“No smooching, I’m still here,” I call out.

Aunt Ava laughs, smacks her husband lightly, then turns to me. “How was class today?”

“Fine,” I mumble, my attention drifting to the doorway. Matthew is gone — slipped away at some point during the distraction.

But I know him. This isn’t over.

---

Matthew wasn’t in the living room.

Or the hallway.

Or anywhere in sight.

Which should’ve been a relief… except it wasn’t.

Because with him, silence never means gone. It means he’s waiting.

I headed upstairs, peeling off my damp cardigan as I went. The rain had cooled the air, making the house smell faintly of wet stone and cedar. I kept telling myself I’d just change, maybe hide in my room for the rest of the night, avoid him until tomorrow.

The door to my bedroom was cracked open.

I froze.

I always lock it.

My pulse jumped as I nudged it open with my foot — and there he was.

Leaning against my window like he owned the place, hands in his pockets, head slightly bowed so his dark hair shadowed his eyes.

“You left pretty fast downstairs,” I said, my tone sharp to cover the fact that my heart was thudding.

His gaze lifted, pinning me. “You were distracted. I don’t wait for scraps of attention, Camila.”

I scoffed. “Good. Then stop showing up where you’re not wanted.”

One corner of his mouth curved — not into a smile, but into something far more dangerous. “That’s the problem. You do want me here.”

My skin prickled, heat crawling up my neck. “In your dreams, maybe.”

He pushed off the wall and started walking toward me. Slow. Unhurried. Like a predator who already knows the prey is trapped.

I stepped back. “Don’t.”

“You don’t get to run from me,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Not when you disappear without telling me where you’re going. Not when you’re in this family’s crosshairs every second of the day.”

“I’m not a prisoner,” I snapped. “And I’m definitely not your responsibility.”

He stopped close enough that I could see the storm in his eyes — that deep, controlled fury he never raised his voice to express. “You’re wrong. You became my responsibility the second I was assigned to protect you. And you became more than that the second you made me want you.”

The air between us turned heavy, thick. I hated how my breath stuttered, how my fingers itched to grab his shirt and pull him closer.

“I don’t—” My voice caught. “You’re out of line.”

He leaned in, his lips just brushing the shell of my ear. “Maybe. But I don’t play by lines, Camila. I erase them.”

I swallowed hard, fighting not to react, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he was getting to me. “You can’t just—”

A knock on the door cut me off.

“Camila,” Aunt Ava’s voice called softly. “Dinner’s ready, sweetheart.”

I turned toward the door like it was a lifeline. “Coming!”

When I looked back, Matthew was already moving toward the balcony doors. He stepped outside into the drizzle without another word, disappearing into the night as quietly as he’d appeared.

But the pounding in my chest didn’t fade.

If anything, it was worse.

Because for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run from him…or toward him.