18. Chapter Eighteen #4
I get out first, rounding the car to her side, keeping myself between her and every lingering gaze. My hand slips protectively around her waist, a clear message: Mine. Off limits. Fucking untouchable.
Diego strides out from the house, shoulders relaxed but eyes sharp, scanning Camille quickly before they land on me.
His mouth curves slightly in approval, relief flickering subtly beneath his carefully neutral expression.
He closes the distance, gripping my shoulder, pulling me into a fierce embrace.
“Bienvenido, hermano,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, squeezing tighter before releasing me. “Finalmente la trajiste aquí.”
“Era hora,” I reply, the tight knot in my chest loosening marginally as his steady presence calms my racing pulse. I gesture Camille forward, holding her close to my side. “Diego, you remember Camille.”
His dark eyes lock onto her carefully, openly assessing, measuring every inch of her. “Sí. Por supuesto.” Diego’s voice lowers, Spanish slipping easily from his tongue as he turns slightly toward me. “Es hermosa. Pero, ?estás seguro que está lista para esto, hermano? Para nosotros?”
Camille shifts slightly beside me, delicate brow arching, a soft smirk curving her lips. “You know it’s rude,” she murmurs evenly, “to discuss someone when they’re standing right here.”
Diego’s eyebrows rise slightly, surprise blending into open amusement. “Ah, perdón, Camille,” he replies smoothly, eyes sparkling with something approaching genuine warmth. “I forget you’re more than just decoration.”
My fingers tighten possessively at her waist, pride flaring hot beneath my skin at her quiet strength. “Careful,” I warn Diego lightly, though the sharp edge is clear. “She bites.”
His chuckle is deep, genuine. “I have no doubt.” He nods toward the house. “Rosa está adentro, esperando. She’ll want to meet your Camille.”
My Camille. The words wrap around me like barbed wire, painful, possessive, protective as hell. Because that’s exactly who she is: mine. To keep. To ruin. To guard with every ruthless inch of my existence.
Diego leads us inside, his strides confident and measured, completely in control. Camille stays pressed against my side, her hand gripping my arm just enough to betray the anxiety she’s desperately hiding. I squeeze gently, silent reassurance that I won’t let a goddamn thing touch her here.
The sprawling interior is alive with noise, the familiar murmur of voices blending smoothly with the clink of glasses, laughter bubbling quietly beneath Spanish music drifting from outside.
My gaze darts over every face, cataloging threats and dismissing them rapidly, instinct honed sharp enough to cut.
Everyone here knows the stakes. They know who I am, and what she means to me.
And if they don’t, they fucking will.
Rosa emerges from the kitchen, her presence instantly calming the tension coiled deep in my chest. Her dark eyes soften the moment they meet mine, maternal warmth glowing openly as she approaches. Without hesitation, Rosa pulls me into a fierce embrace, her voice quiet yet firm.
“Kane, hijo mío,” she murmurs warmly. “Ya era tiempo que la trajeras aquí.”
“Lo sé,” I admit quietly, allowing myself a rare moment of vulnerability as she leans back to study my face. Rosa sees past all my carefully constructed layers, straight to the raw edges beneath. “Necesito que la cuides también, Rosa. Ella es importante.”
Her gaze gentles further, understanding the unspoken truth in my words. “Por supuesto. Ella estará segura aquí.”
Turning slightly, I bring Camille forward, keeping a possessive hold at the small of her back. My voice lowers, quiet and rough with meaning. “Camille, meet Rosa. She’s…” I pause, searching for words I rarely say aloud. “She matters.”
Camille’s eyes flicker briefly to mine, surprise and curiosity mixing beneath the soft gold shimmer of her lashes.
She steps forward gracefully, extending her hand, but Rosa ignores it completely.
Instead, she pulls Camille directly into a warm embrace, soft laughter rising gently between them as Camille relaxes slowly.
“Bienvenida, carino,” Rosa whispers affectionately, drawing back slightly, examining Camille closely, her approval clear in her warm smile. “You’re more beautiful than Kane described.”
Camille arches a brow, eyes dancing briefly to mine. “Apparently, he’s been busy describing me.”
Rosa chuckles, casting an amused, knowing glance my way. “Only constantly, mi amor.”
A flush rises subtly on Camille’s cheeks, a quiet smile curving her mouth as she meets my gaze again, tender, knowing, and just a little triumphant.
Seeing her here, wrapped in Rosa’s immediate acceptance, something inside my chest loosens, releases just slightly, easing the ache I’ve carried for days.
Rosa gently takes Camille’s arm, leading her toward the kitchen where the low hum of feminine voices and the clink of glassware waits. “Come, Camille. Las mujeres están ansiosas por conocerte. They want to know who stole our Kane’s cold heart.”
Camille glances back once, eyes locking fiercely onto mine. I hold her stare, feeling it drag like fire over every nerve. Then she disappears into the warmth and laughter of Rosa’s world, leaving me alone with Diego.
I exhale sharply, jaw tensed. Diego hands me a whiskey, understanding glinting in his eyes.
“Tranquilo, hermano,” he murmurs softly, raising his own glass. “She’s safer now than she’s ever been.”
I down the drink in one harsh swallow, the burn settling hot and raw inside me. Safer, maybe. But I know better than to trust this fragile peace.
Because safety is temporary.
The threat is still nameless, faceless, lurking just beyond reach.
And I’m not letting my guard down until whoever wants Camille suffers at my goddamn hands.
Camille
The kitchen wraps around me, alive with the scent of grilled meats, fresh citrus, and spices that feel comforting even though I don’t yet recognize their names. Warmth radiates from Rosa and the other women as they gather close, their eyes kind, curious, and openly intrigued.
“Can I help with something?” I offer gently, feeling slightly awkward just standing here as they move effortlessly around the room. “I’m not very good at sitting idle.”
Rosa’s smile widens knowingly, eyes soft and reassuring as she touches my arm. “Of course, carino. Aquí, help slice these limes.” She passes me a cutting board and a small knife, her voice gentle yet commanding. “I hear you’re quite capable of handling sharp things.”
I glance at her, seeing the playful tease in her dark gaze, and relax slightly as laughter ripples around us. “You’ve been talking to Kane.”
“él habla mucho,” Rosa chuckles softly, handing me a lime. “About you, at least.”
My cheeks heat, but I grin despite myself, slicing slowly, carefully, as a woman named Ana asks from my left, “So, Camille, how did you manage it?”
“Manage what?” I tilt my head, smiling, fingers working steadily.
“To tame Kane.” Ana’s eyes glint with humor, voice warm. “We thought he’d stay untouchable forever.”
“I wouldn’t call him tame,” I reply softly, biting my lip. “But…I guess we understand each other.”
The murmurs and knowing nods around me tell me that was exactly the right thing to say. These women have known Kane longer, deeper, but none of them have seen him quite like I have, in darkness, desperation, the violent tenderness he reserves just for me.
Soft laughter ripples through the small circle, breaking the tension. My cheeks heat, but I smile easily, feeling something inside me loosen just a little more.
“How did you and Kane meet?” another woman asks bluntly, her sharp, curious gaze softening quickly. “Forgive me, querida, but you don’t look like his usual type.”
Rosa shoots her a warning glance, shaking her head with a small smile. “Enough interrogating our guest. Camille just arrived.”
“No, it’s fine,” I reply gently, meeting her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t think I’m his usual type either.”
More laughter erupts, louder this time, ringing warmly around me. I breathe easier, relaxing as Rosa hands me a glass filled with something icy and sweet-smelling.
“How do you manage to survive his temper? Does he smile when it’s just you two?” Another woman…Maria asks.
I laugh, relaxing despite myself. “Sometimes he smiles. Briefly.”
She winks conspiratorially. “Eso es amor, then.”
Before I can respond, a sudden eruption of laughter fills the kitchen, the kind of laughter that’s loud and unapologetic, tumbling into the room like sunlight through an open window.
Two girls appear in the doorway, dark curls flying, eyes bright with mischief.
They halt abruptly when they see me, curiosity sparking instantly in identical faces.
“Ah,” Rosa says with a sigh, smiling like she’s already tired and amused at once. “Las tormentas have arrived.”
The two girls exchange a look that’s pure chaos and coordination, then strut into the kitchen like they own the damn place. Which, judging by Rosa’s tone, they kind of do.
“Camille,” Rosa says, rising with the elegance of a woman who could run the world in slippers and a silk robe, “these are my hijas…Marisol and Reina. Twenty, loud, impossible, and deeply in love with their own opinions.”
Reina grins, unabashed. “That’s not fair, Mami. I’m also deeply in love with tequila.”
Marisol bumps her hip. “And boys who are bad for you.”
“Which means we’re basically Kane in feminine form,” Reina adds, eyes narrowing with faux-serious intrigue as she turns to me. “So. You’re her.”
I blink. “Her?”
“The reason Kane said no to poker night. Twice.” Marisol grins wide, circling me slowly. “The one with the eyes. The mouth. The attitude.”
Reina crosses her arms. “And the Instagram photos. Which, for the record, don’t do you justice. Your bone structure’s, like… disrespectful.”
I can’t help it, I laugh. Loud and real, like they dragged it out of me by sheer force of will.