Chapter 20
Ihave failed her.
Pamela’s words sliced through Raph like a blade to his carefully guarded heart. He stepped into the kitchen, his tall shadow falling across the flour-dusted table where Pamela stood, tears streaming down her face, her black curls trembling with her sobs.
Her eyes flicked up, catching his presence, and her expression shifted instantly, her anguish masked by the cool indifference he knew too well.
She learned that from me.
“Father,” she said flatly, her voice devoid of the emotion that had just spilled out.
She curtsied stiffly, her hands wiping aggressively at her tears as she hurried past him. The kitchen door swung shut behind her, emphasizing her departure.
Raph’s gaze turned to Camelia, who stood frozen by the table. Her muslin gown was dusted with flour, her eyes wide with shock and puffy from crying.
Even disheveled, she stirred something within him.
“What have you done, Camelia?” His voice was low and dangerous.
“I… I was only trying to help her.” Her face flushed, and he took a second to admire her.
“What did you say to make her speak like that?” He approached her slowly.
Camelia backed away from him like a deer caught by a hunter. A tear slid down her cheek, and her hands clutched at the apron tied around her waist.
“You disobeyed me… and hurt Pamela in the process!”
“Raph, I-I didn’t expect you here.” Her voice trembled slightly, still raw with emotions. “I’m truly sorry. I was just trying to reach her.”
“I warned you,” he said simply.
“Raph,” she breathed and held her head up in that defiant way he secretly admired. “A young girl should be in touch with her feelings, not locked away behind your rules. She’s hurting, and I only wanted to help.”
“And you truly believe that making her cry was helpful?” He arched an eyebrow at her, stepping closer until he towered over her.
Camelia let out a soft gasp when her back pressed against the edge of the table. “I didn’t mean to make her cry. Pamela’s so alone that she poured out her heart, and I listened. Isn’t that what she needs?”
“What she needs is structure, not chaos,” Raph retorted. “You’ve upset her and pushed her to say things she can’t take back. You think you know her better than I do?”
Camelia jutted her chin bravely, even though her voice trembled with fear. “I think she needs love, not just rules. She said you’re not her father, Raph. Why would she feel that way? Tell me, please, so I can help her.”
Old, deeply buried pain resurfaced, and he was almost tempted to tell her the truth.
The truth?
“You’ve done enough damage, Camelia,” he said instead. “You don’t get to question my relationship with her or my past.”
“I’m just trying to help you. Pamela is breaking, piece by piece, every day, and you’re too busy with your schedules to see it. Why won’t you trust me? I’m your wife!”
“Trust a woman who cannot obey a simple rule?” Camelia flinched. “You barged into my life, defied my orders, and expect my trust? All after I warned you about the discipline you’ll receive.”
She glared at him as she pressed further against the table. “You’d discipline me for caring? For wanting to understand why your daughter feels so lost? What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’ve told you enough. You don’t get to dig into my life, Camelia. Pamela is my responsibility, and you’ll follow the rules or face the consequences.”
She shivered but didn’t look away.
“You don’t scare me,” she whispered shakily.
Raph closed the distance between them and tangled his hand in her hair. She let out a short gasp, but he kept his grip firm as he tugged, exposing her graceful neck to him.
Camelia’s hairpins clattered to the kitchen floor. Her lips parted and trembled. Her body felt hot against his as he leaned in close until his lips brushed the shell of her ear.
“You’re not afraid of me, Duchess?” His voice was a low growl, dripping with dominance.
Camelia whimpered, her hands gripping the table’s edge as her body pressed against his.
“Answer me,” he demanded. His fingers tightened in her hair, pulling just enough to make her arch into him.
“Y-Yes! I’m not afraid of you.” Her voice was thick with desire, and her legs quivered. Raph felt her pulse race under his touch.
“Yes what?” he growled and grazed her earlobe with his lips. He nipped at it lightly, sending a jolt through her.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she moaned.
Raph noticed how she pressed her thighs together.
“Yes, little flower. Crave me as I crave you.”
“Raph!” She closed her eyes.
“Look at me.” He backed away from her, seeing his hunger reflected in her eyes.
“You have no idea what you’ve stirred inside me, Duchess.
That defiance, that disobedience, is what makes me want to make you mine in ways you can’t imagine.
Do you feel it? How much I want to claim every inch of you right here. ”
He pressed himself against her so she felt his hard manhood. Her breathing grew ragged, and her body shivered with need.
“What are you going to do, Raph?” she whispered, challenging him even now. “Are you going to punish me and make me beg? Because I’m not sure I can stop pushing you.”
He chuckled—a low, dangerous sound—as his hand slid from her hair to her neck, his thumb tracing her fluttering pulse.
“Oh, you’ll beg, little flower,” he murmured. His lips hovered over hers, so close that he could taste her breath. “You’ve crossed every line, and now you’ll learn what happens when you defy your husband. Shall I bind you? Strip you bare and make you scream my name until you forget your own?”
Her knees weakened at his words, and he smirked.
“It’s time to make you mine.”
“Raph, please.” Her voice was raw with need.
Raph’s eyes darkened in response, a wicked glint sparking as he pressed himself closer. His body was hard against her softness, and the table creaked under their weight.
“I enjoy it immensely when you beg me,” he purred.
He slid his hand down to grip her hip, pulling her flush against him.
“I’ll have you begging for more once I’m done with you, and you’ll love every second of it. Tell me, how badly do you want me to take you right now?”
She instinctively arched into him.
“So badly,” she whispered, her voice broken with desire.
He let go of her and stepped back. His silence was a heavy storm as desire seethed through him, thick and potent. Camelia looked disappointed at his sudden distance.
“You’ve crossed enough lines today,” he said flatly. “I believe some discipline is in order.”
“Raph, I—”
But she stopped talking when he crossed the room in two strides, his jaw tight as he reached the kitchen door, turned the key in the lock, and sealed them in the warm room.
“I will enjoy every second of this… undisturbed.” He turned back to her and let his eyes roam over her flushed cheeks and parted lips. “You’ve pushed me too far.”
“What are you going to do?” Her voice was small and pleading.
Her plea struck a nerve that spread like wildfire across his body.
“I’m going to discipline you, Camelia. I’m going to teach you a lesson.” Something primal within him surfaced. He gestured to the table and commanded her, “Bend over, little flower.”
Camelia’s breath hitched, and she shivered at his demand. At first, she hesitated, then obeyed, her hands gripping the table’s edge as she bent over it. Her gown stretched taut across her hips and exposed all her curves and dips.
“Raph, what are you doing?” she breathed.
He stepped behind her, his presence a looming shadow as he lifted the hem of her skirt. His fingers brushed the back of her thighs, sending a jolt through her again.
“This is your second lesson, Duchess,” he growled huskily.
Camelia’s heart pounded wildly as she lay bent over the flour-dusted kitchen table, the warm air kissing her exposed skin. They were locked and sealed in a world of heat and tension, the clatter of pots and the scent of bread having long faded beneath the intensity of Raph’s presence.
Her hands gripped the table’s edge, and her body shook with fear of the unknown and a forbidden dark desire as Raph stood behind her, his hands hot against her parted thighs.
What is he going to do, and why does it excite me so?
“Are you ready, little flower?”
“Ready for what?”
Raph rubbed her behind softly, and she struggled not to moan.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, Your Grace… I’m ready.”
Camelia gasped when Raph delivered a soft slap to her exposed bottom. The sting was sharp yet thrilling, sending a delicious jolt through her core.
“Raph!” she whimpered.
“Do you want me to stop, little flower?”
She pondered it for a moment. The slap was a surprise, and her skin stung slightly from it, but she wanted more.
“Don’t stop, Your Grace.” She arched her back further, grabbing onto the edge of the table more tightly.
“Why should I not?”
“Because… because I disobeyed you.”
“You did. You deliberately disobeyed me, Camelia.” Raph’s calm, cool voice enveloped her as he touched the back of her thighs gently. “Do you know what that does to me? Seeing you defy me like this? It makes me want to claim every inch of you until you’re all mine.”
“Raph, please… I need more—” she whispered, but he cut her off with another slap, firmer this time.
The heat of the sting bloomed across her skin. She gasped, and the sensation mingled with shame and thrill.
“This will not happen again,” he warned, his tone dark with a seductive promise. Each word sank into her, and she longed to obey him. “You tested me with your fire and rebellion. Tell me, little flower, do you like feeling my hand on you like this? Are you burning for me?”
Camelia pressed her thighs together again, but Raph parted them.
“I want to see you get wet for me, little flower.”
“I… I don’t know what I’m feeling,” she admitted breathlessly, her hips shifting involuntarily. “You’re driving me mad, Raph.”
She felt his hand rub her raw skin. His fingers were slow and deliberate, soothing yet arousing her further.