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It’s strange, when all this started, all I wanted was to be left alone. I wanted my own room in a quiet corner of the house so I could hide out and wait for the danger to pass.
Now when I crawl under the sheets in Evander’s bed, I can’t stop thinking about him, about his hands on my body and his mouth against mine, his low chuckle and his whisper in my ear. I want his broad hands on my skin as he holds me until I fall asleep, and I want to wake up to his soft breathing as the morning sun streams in through the windows.
Instead, the bed is cold and empty, and there’s only me.
For a man that insists on sleeping with me as a husband and wife should, he’s notably absent every night.
He said it was so I could get acclimated to living with him at first, but now I wonder if it’s more abouthimgetting used tome.
“Okay, girl, I’ve been ignoring it all day, but I don’t think I can keep quiet any longer.” About three hours into my shift, Phel leans up against the counter and stares at me. “Seriously, when are we going to talk about the freaking huge, giant, obscenely expensive diamond elephant in the room.”
I grimace and look down at the ring on my finger. “Shit, I forgot I was wearing it.”
Which makes Phel groan and cover her face. “How thehellcould you forget you’re wearing that thing? Camille, it’s beautiful, and it has got to be worth tens of thousands of dollars.”
“Probably,” I admit and hold it out. “He gave it to me last night and I just—”
“You haven’t taken it off. Yeah, I wouldn’t either, I’d be afraid of losing the damn thing.”
“Oh my god, don’t say that. I hadn’t thought about that yet—”
“It’ll be fine. Come here, let me see.”
I hold my hand out and she studies it, slowly shaking her head. “I know, it’s crazy.”
“You’re really marrying him?”
I pull my hand away and slowly turn the ring around in circles, chewing my lip. “I am, yes.”
“I knew you two were doing some weird stuff, but—”
“We’renotdoing weird stuff!”
“—but I didn’t know it was serious.” Her eyes narrow at me. “Who the hell are you, Camille?”
I laugh at the question. Who the hell am I? I’m some random girl from South Philly, a girl with nothing to her name, nobody to call a friend, and no home to go back to. I’m a girl that’s caught up in something bigger than her, trapped between violent men, afraid she’ll never be free again.
“I’m Camille,” I say. “I like vintage sneakers. I thinkThe Officeis the best show ever made. I like reading, dancing, and cookbooks, but I hate cooking.”
Phel laughs softly. “The Officeis overrated.”
“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Evander Kazan, huh. I guess this makes you, what, Camille Kazan?”
I blink rapidly and shudder. “I haven’t thought about that, but I guess so. Well—when we make it official.”
“And you’re like, the crime lord’s wife?”
“Please don’t tell your dad yet.”
She groans. “He’s going to freak out.”
“I know.”
“He won’t let you work here anymore. I mean, he will, but he’ll be hovering, making sure you don’t, like, get your hands dirty or something.”
“Seriously, Phel, don’t tell him.”
