~Camila~
"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕"
To the world, Camila is a breath of fresh air; a woman of gentle smiles and a joyful heart. Her charm is her armor, and her intellect is her weapon.
B...
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The heavenly aroma of food stirred me from my peaceful slumber. I yawned lazily, stretching my limbs before slowly fluttering my eyes open.
My gaze landed on a tray in the corner of the room, piled high with delicious-looking food. I licked my lips in delight.
As I tried to stand, a sharp pain shot through my lower region. I nearly lost my balance, but strong arms wrapped around my waist just in time.
Luciano.
His intense eyes locked onto mine. A cool drop of water fell onto my cheek, and I looked up to see his wet hair, still dripping from a recent shower.
His bare chest pressed against my skin, sending a chill down my spine.
"Buon giorno, gemma," he whispered, leaning in for a kiss.
I turned my face away, causing his brows to furrow.
"A kiss, gemma?" he questioned.
I gave him a look. "I haven't brushed, Luciano," I stated bluntly.
"So?" He reached for me again, but I was quicker, darting into the bathroom despite the soreness between my legs.
I locked the door, turned on the shower, and stepped under the hot stream, letting it soothe my aching body.
After brushing my teeth and freshening up, I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out.
Luciano was sitting on the sofa, completely engrossed in his phone. I paused, taking a moment to admire him.
The fact that this dangerous, devastatingly handsome man was mine sent a flutter through my chest.
Our conversation in the bathtub last night came rushing back, and I couldn't stop the smile that curved my lips.
The idea of being the mother of his children was both terrifying and thrilling.
I walked into the closet and froze for a moment—my clothes had been unpacked and neatly arranged beside his.
A flutter of warmth hit me. I dressed in an orange shirt and black shorts, tied my hair into a ponytail, and noticed my cosmetics already laid out on the dresser.
Everything was perfectly placed.
A black bottle caught my attention. I picked it up and popped the lid open, smiling at the familiar, masculine scent of his cologne.
I glanced at him through the mirror—still glued to his phone—so I sprayed a bit on myself.
We ate breakfast together, sitting at the edge of the bed. As soon as I was done, I crawled back under the covers to avoid eating the fruit on the tray.
"Camila," he warned, "don't make me force you."
I shook my head stubbornly. He said nothing—but a moment later, he pounced on me and began tickling without mercy.
