chapter fifteen cracks in control
Chapter fifteen: Cracks in Control
Adrian exhaled as he stepped out of the car, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness from the trip. The past few days had been… complicated. Between work and stolen moments with Elara, he had barely had time to think. And maybe that was a good thing.
Because thinking meant remembering that dinner.
The looks.
The nickname.
And the way Camille had smiled like she knew something he didn’t.
He pushed the thought aside as he opened the front door.
The scent hit him immediately.
Rich. Warm. Familiar.
Steak. Chimichurri.
His favorite.
Adrian paused, something in his chest loosening. The tension he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying began to melt away.
Camille.
Of course.
For a moment, everything felt… normal again.
---
He stepped into the dining area, and there she was.
Camille stood by the table, setting down plates, her black hair falling over her shoulders in soft waves. She looked… composed. Calm. Like nothing had changed.
Like she always used to be.
Relief flooded him.
Maybe he had been overthinking. Maybe the dinner, the looks, Mikhail—it had all been nothing. Just coincidence. Just his imagination running wild.
“Welcome back,” she said softly, glancing up at him with a small smile.
Adrian walked toward her, loosening his tie. “Smells amazing.”
“I know it’s your favorite,” she replied simply.
Of course she did.
That was Camille. Attentive. Predictable. His.
The thought settled something deep inside him.
---
They sat down to eat, the clink of cutlery filling the silence. For a while, it was easy. Comfortable. Familiar.
“How was the trip?” Camille asked, cutting into her steak.
“Busy,” Adrian said. “Meetings, presentations. The usual.”
He kept his tone neutral, controlled.
She nodded, as if satisfied.
For a moment, Adrian allowed himself to relax completely. Maybe things really were fine. Maybe he still had control over everything—his marriage, his life, the careful balance he had created.
Maybe Camille was still exactly who he thought she was.
---
“I have something to tell you,” Camille said suddenly.
Adrian looked up, mildly curious. “What is it?”
She met his gaze directly, her expression calm—too calm.
“Mikhail offered me a job.”
Adrian froze.
“…What?”
Her voice didn’t waver. “As his executive assistant. And I accepted.”
The words landed like a blow.
Adrian set his fork down slowly, staring at her as if he had misheard. “You… what?”
“I accepted the job,” she repeated evenly. “I start immediately.”
Something inside him snapped.
“Since when were you even looking for a job?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “You haven’t worked in years.”
Camille tilted her head slightly, unfazed. “Maybe I wanted to start again.”
“That’s not the point,” Adrian shot back, his control slipping. “The point is—you didn’t discuss this with me. You just decided?”
Her lips curved faintly—not quite a smile. “Do I need permission?”
The question hit harder than anything else.
Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Don’t twist this. I’m your husband. Of course I should be part of that decision.”
“And yet,” she said calmly, “you didn’t seem to think I needed to be part of all of yours.”
For a split second, Adrian’s breath caught.
But she looked completely composed. No accusation. No evidence. Just a statement hanging in the air.
He pushed the thought away immediately. She doesn’t know.
---
His anger surged again, sharper this time. “What’s going on with you, Camille?” he demanded. “First the dinner, now this? And with Mikhail of all people?”
Her expression didn’t change.
“What about him?” she asked quietly.
Adrian let out a frustrated breath. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been… different. The way you act around him, the way he acts around you—”
“There’s nothing going on,” Camille cut in smoothly.
Her tone was steady. Controlled. Convincing.
Adrian searched her face for cracks, for hesitation—but found nothing.
“He offered me a job,” she continued. “I accepted. That’s it.”
“That’s it?” Adrian repeated incredulously. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
The calm certainty in her voice only made it worse.
---
Adrian stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “This isn’t like you,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t just make decisions like this. You don’t just… change overnight.”
Camille remained seated, looking up at him with an unreadable expression.
“People change,” she said quietly.
The words echoed in the room, heavier than they should have been.
Adrian stared at her, something cold settling in his chest.
This wasn’t the Camille he knew.
Or maybe…
Maybe he had never really known her at all.
---
“I don’t like this,” he muttered finally.
Camille gave a small, almost indifferent shrug. “You don’t have to.”
That did it.
The last thread of control he thought he had snapped completely.
Adrian turned away, pacing the room, his mind racing. The job. Mikhail. The confidence in her voice. The way she didn’t need his approval anymore.
It was all wrong.
Everything was shifting, slipping through his fingers—and he didn’t know how to stop it.
---
Behind him, Camille picked up her glass, taking a slow sip as she watched him unravel.
Calm. Composed. Untouchable.
And for the first time—
Completely out of his control.