7
Camilla White
I ’ve never seen the duke lose his temper before, especially not with his mother.
He has the first to keep his bearings together from all our limited encounters in the past. Sure, he’s always been very assertive, but tonight was more than that. He truly didn’t put up with her attitude.
I am somewhat pleased but uneasy about the exchange. It shouldn’t affect me at all, but it did make my stomach flutter when he stood his ground. On the other hand, it also made me realise I never want to be the target of his bad temper.
The man’s always calm and collected but seems to be hiding a cantankerous persona inside. I hope not; otherwise, it could make my life here a living hell.
He’s since locked himself in his office, and I’ve sent everyone back home for the evening while finishing off the cleaning of the kitchen. It’s best to stay clear of him for the rest of the night, and keeping busy on this side of the manor will prevent any unnecessary encounters.
All of the tension left behind from dinner has left me with no hunger whatsoever, and as soon as I have this wrapped up, I’ll take Primrose out and collapse on the bed for a good night sleep.
Tomorrow’s a new day, and the duke will be in a better mood for me to try and plan the menu in more detail for the upcoming week so there aren’t surprises like tonight.
Just when I am crouching by the bottom cabinets and rearranging the pans, a rough voice sounds from behind me, “What are you doing?”
It’s enough to make me turn around, startled, with a pan clutched to my chest.
“Uhm, I–” I stutter.
“I asked you a question,” he says after clearing his throat with a stern tone.
“Cleaning,” I confess.
His head tilts to the side, watching me intently as I slowly rise and meekly stand in front of him, pan still in my hand. There’s a whole kitchen island with stools separating us, but with this man, being in the same division already means too close.
His mere presence takes over the entire division, changing the environment’s mood, and I can’t help being affected as well.
Sure, he is often intimidating, but it’s more than that to me. The duke’s presence and voice shake me to the core, blossoming feelings and emotions I had never experienced before.
It’s confusing and…exciting.
“I thought a whole team was appointed for that, and last time I checked, you’re not one of them.”
“I know, Your Grace. But everyone was exhausted, and I needed something to keep busy tonight.”
“Well then, the hours will be deducted from their payrolls. I don’t–”
“What? No!” I exclaim, cutting him off.
His eye twitches, and I shut up right away.
He is still your boss, Camilla.
With one step forward on his side, he quickly reaches the island counter. It immediately makes me take one back, even if there is still a considerable distance between us. He stops right next to the island, leaning the side of his hip against it and crossing his arms over his chest.
I follow every move, how it’s done slowly, steadily, and full of confidence. When his chest slowly pops up, I finally divert my eyes up to his and gulp at the look on his face.
“Come again?” he questions, keeping his eyebrow cocked up.
At a glance, he could look amused, but as I stare straight into his eyes, I can see the storm brewing. Even with the kitchen lights on, there’s a darkness in his eyes tonight, a hardness I hadn’t seen yet, and it makes my heart race.
Is it fear? No…
While I can’t place what is growing inside me, I welcome the new, exhilarating feeling.
One could say I unwillingly poked the bear. But how could I stay quiet when he was threatening to cut my colleagues’ wages?
“I–I–” Pausing, I take a deep breath in a weak attempt to start again with more confidence. This man does knock me off my common sense . “I sent them home. I decided to stay behind and do the work by myself. So if you want to cut hours from someone’s wage, take it from mine.”
His eyes watch me intently for a few seconds, then he closes them and takes a deep breath.
“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing his temples. “I have a bit of a temper when I am irked, and my mother did a number on my mood tonight.”
The duke balances his body, detaching his hip from the side of the counter, and walks towards me, mimicking my position and seemingly looking for a comfortable position right by my side.
We’re both leaning against the main counter, where the sink, stove, and oven are.
Long gone is the rigid, predatory attitude he had when he entered the kitchen. It also allows me to relax a bit, even if his proximity still makes me a little nervous.
“Still,” he starts. “It’s not fair for everyone to go home earlier while you’re stuck here with extra work.”
“It’s not like that,” I answer truthfully. “I thought that after how the night went, having the house clear of people would’ve been the best option.”
“That’s very considerate of you, but everyone’s pay check is well above the average, and the working hours are previously agreed on a contract. Everyone is fairly paid extra hours, and they’re also free to refuse to work them if wanted. So, please,” he takes a pause, twisting his head to the left side, looking me straight in the eyes. “No more overworking yourself when there’s a capable enough team that could deal with that.”
His voice is soft, sending warmth through the atmosphere straight into my chest. The temperature rises, travelling through my skin and up to my cheeks. A little smile makes its way onto my lips, and I turn my head away, hoping he doesn’t notice the stupid giddiness that takes over.
Stop Camilla.
“Got it?” he insists.
My stomach flutters, and I gulp a meek, “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good.” He tuts. “Now, leave everything as it is and go rest. The staff can take care of it tomorrow,” he orders while looking around the kitchen.
“I just wanted to fi–”
“ Go have some rest,” he cuts me off.
I should. Shouldn’t I?
Although, the last thing on my mind right now is sleep. That’s when the thought of planning the meals rushes back to mind.
“Oh,” I exclaim, catching his attention. “Your Grace, I will need more detailed guidance on the menus from here on out.”
“Detailed guidance?” he questions, not bothering to look at me while opening the double-door fridge.
“I never meant to upset Her Grace…I thought I had free reign and went too close to home.” I pause for a second, taking a breath. “I need to be assured the meals are to your liking and not mine.”
“The meal was entirely to my liking,” he comments, his back still turned to me as he rummages through the fridge. Then, seemingly giving up on whatever it is he is looking for, he adds, “I only request you to have on the one day a meal of meat and another, a meal of fish. Other than that, I am not as exigent as my mother, and I appreciate the variety.”
“But Her Gra–”
“My mother,” he cuts me off pointedly before sitting down on the stool on the opposite side of the island. “Is not your boss. Is she?”
I shake my head, wide-eyed.
“Then you keep doing as I tell you, and everything will be fine.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Camilla, you’ve been working for my aunt for quite a few years,” the duke comments, crossing his arms over his chest with his eyes cast down. While it looks like he is looking down on the ground, he certainly looks pensive…lost somewhere in his mind. Even if, by chance, you’re uncertain about something, you can come to me, and we’ll solve it together. But know that I fully trust your abilities to run this house smoothly.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
His lips press together, forming a thin line and curling tightly, giving me a slight glimpse of how beautiful a smile of his could be. Nodding and acknowledging my words, he twists his head to the side, looking at me once again.
Those melted chocolate irises burn holes into my own, raising the tension and I try to cut it by looking around, making the moment awkward.
“Was there anything you needed from the kitchen?” I ask, hoping to kill the discomfort between us.
“Ahm, yes. I, uhm–” He stops and looks around. “I got hungry.”
“I can whip up something for you quickly, what is it that you–”
“Is there any dessert left? I’ll be fine with it. No need to cook an entire meal just for me.”
“But I coul–”
“If that dessert is anywhere near as delicious as dinner was, I’d rather have that, please.”
What is with him and cutting me off tonight?
“I can cook, Your Grace. I have known how to ever since I was twelve.”
“I never said you couldn’t, Camilla,” he drawls, studying me. “I don’t want to be a hassle, and I am craving something sweet. I’m sure it will help get rid of my sour mood.”
The way he slowly rakes his eyes up and down my body while emphasising the word sweet makes my skin tingle and a shiver run down my spine. I’m stunned in place by his words and how a possible double entendre sinks into my brain. His expression, though, gives nothing away. Not until the left side of his lips slightly tilts up, showing a barely-there smirk.
“Uh–” No words leave my mouth as we keep looking at each other.
How worse can this get?
“Are you going to serve me or stand there, eye-fucking me all night?”
Bloody hell!
With ablaze cheeks and a tight jaw, I jump and turn around, embarrassed. Did he catch me ogling him? I am so done!
It’s hard, though, with a man as sinfully good-looking as the duke is…I can’t help it sometimes.
Slowly walking away from him, I head for the oven, where the dessert was left to cool.
“You must have seen the traditional pudding in the fridge, but I had my favourite childhood dessert prepared for your dinner,” I blurt out.
“Bring it on.”
Meanwhile, I hear the scrape of a chair, and I know he is probably sitting down on the stool. I bring the dessert out and start to plate it accordingly.
After a quick trip to the freezer for some ice cream and chocolate topping from the cabinet, it’s complete. So, I turn around and carry it to where the duke is sitting, gingerly placing it in front of him.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“It’s fried banana with vanilla ice cream and chocolate topping. It’s my absolute favourite!” I gush.
A small smile appears on his face before he nods in understanding.
Realising I probably look like a silly child gushing about lollipops, I blush and step away, giving him some distance and privacy to eat his food.
Except, I haven’t eaten yet, and it looks tasty. So much so, my eyes can’t detach from it, intently watching him eat. That is probably why my stomach decides to humiliate me by growling.
Stealing him a glance, I notice his attention on me with an arched eyebrow so, hastily, I turn around and occupy myself.
Pans were never as appealing as they are right now.
“Camilla,” the duke calls, but I keep on putting them in the right cabinets, with my back turned to him. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” His strong and assertive tone halts my movements for a few seconds before I turn to look at him.
And that is my first mistake. His expression is sombre as he studies me.
“Y-yes, Your Grace,” I stutter like a fool, embarrassed.
“Did you have dinner?”
“I, uh, I was nervous before your dinner, and then I got busy, and I–”
“I asked you a question, Camilla .”
“No, Your Grace,” I mumble.
The intensity of his gaze forces me to look away, scouring every crevice of the kitchen in search of some relief from this tension.
“Then prepare yourself a plate and eat with me.”
I freeze. What?
“But–”
When I make the mistake of looking at him again, he still has his intense and unwavering gaze locked on me. The food remains mostly untouched on his plate, completely forgotten by him.
It looks so tasty.
It’s enough to make my stomach growl again and for water to grow in my mouth.
“You either get yourself some food right now, or I’ll feed you myself.”
My eyes open wide in surprise alongside a gasp. “What?” I gasp.
“Did I stutter?” he questions, tilting his head to the side.
Without daring to question him, I do as he says, preparing a plate for myself. All the while, I feel the intensity of his gaze on my back, making me nervous. When it’s ready, I shorten the distance by rounding the island counter and getting closer to him.
To my surprise, the duke pulls the stool out and mutters a, “Sit down.”
I know I should obey him right away, but it doesn’t change the fact that my body hesitates.
It keeps reacting weirdly to his assertive orders. While a small part of me knows boundaries are there for a reason, I can’t notice them right now. Not really.
All because the giddiness and adrenaline that comes from his proximity feed parts of me that have been dormant so far. It’s strangely pleasant, and it makes me ignore all the warning signs that threaten to pop up.
Rationality seems to be failing me a lot lately.
A million thoughts swirl in my head, but none stick long enough for me to make a proper conclusion about this situation.
“Sit down, Camilla,” he booms, making me jump in place. “Am I not speaking bloody English?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Finally obeying his orders, I sit down on the tall stool before his hand pushes it closer to him. Too close.
This time, the duke doesn’t move. Instead, he focuses on my face, slowly moving from my creased forehead to my confused eyes and finishing on my tightly closed lips.
“Eat,” he mumbles.
I nod, cutting a little piece and dipping it into the ice cream. As soon as my lips seal around the fork, the banana is no longer hot but still maintains most of its crunchiness. The vanilla ice cream gives it such a soft finish, and I can’t help but moan as soon as the flavour reaches my taste buds.
Just as an explosion of flavours revives my tastebuds, a relieved exhale sounds next to me. Ignoring it, I take another forkful of food, basking in it.
Just then, I feel a cold droplet escape from the corner of my mouth. Immediately, I open my eyes, embarrassed. Everything is only heightened when I find the duke already watching me intently with dark eyes.
Mortifying.
Yet, instead of looking for a napkin, I am trapped in his intense gaze. And with my brain still ‘missing’, I bring my thumb to clean off the ice cream, quickly sucking it clean.
Just as I am about to lower my hand, the duke grabs my wrist tightly. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s strong enough to keep it in place.
“You,” he whispers before pausing his speech just enough to pull my finger out and slowly trail it underneath my lower lip, “missed a little bit.”
And then he sticks it inside my mouth once again.
My skin erupts in goosebumps as I watch him focus on my movements. His pupils dilate, and his hold tightens a little bit more. His skin on mine sends tingles down my arm, and a once-dormant warmth reaches my lower belly.
Never in my life has a man left me aroused from so little.
When I finally let go of my finger, it is like something is triggered in him, suddenly letting go of my wrist to cradle my face in his hand, bringing us closer together.
“Your Grace,” I breathe.
“Call me Vincent,” he pleads with a low, husky voice.
It’s enough to make me squirm, and he takes it as a sign to come even closer to the point our breaths are mingling. His scent, now familiar, fills my nostrils.
Leather, wood, and benzoin. Such a pleasant scent .
Vincent’s thumb grazes my lower lip while his tongue peeks out to lick his own like a starved lion looking at his meal.
Except, I’m the meal .
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers while moving even closer.
Not enough that we’re touching but enough for me to feel the warmth radiating off him. My stomach flutters, and my eyes flutter involuntarily.
We shouldn’t. We can’t .
It’s wrong. But why does it feel so right?
Why does his presence affect me every single time? Why do I feel so comfortable in his touch? Why am I not telling him to stop?
Because I don’t want to .
Instead, I nod and our noses bump at the same time his hand lowers from cradling my cheek to my jaw, with his fingers digging into my scalp, right behind my ear, causing me to shiver.
Close. So close .
The warmth of his lips burns my skin, and I prepare for the impact of this kiss and all of the consequences that come with it.
Woof. Woof.
Primrose’s bark from my bedroom brings both of us back to reality.
The duke places his forehead on mine with a defeated sigh while I pant. We were just about to… kiss .
Realisation sets in, and I abruptly stand and flee the kitchen.
“Camilla, wait,” I hear the duke call, but I ignore it, locking myself inside my bedroom.