CHAPTER 6

Camille’s Entrance

Roman's POV

I was studying and reviewing contracts that were as boring as they always are. I planned to enjoy the rare moment of peace that the house's peaceful hum provided. But, with most things in my life lately, that peace didn’t last long.

The sound of heels clicking against the marble floors below reached me first, sharp and deliberate. Then came the voice silky, confident, and unmistakably hers.

"Roman!" Camille’s voice called, her voice as sweet-sounding as I remembered.

Lately, it has been too quiet. In my world, peace was always calm before the impending storm.

With a deep exhale, I closed the folder in front of me. “Of course,” I said to myself. “I should have expected this.”

Without a knock, the door of my study flung open. She was all decked up in a crimson dress that clung to her like the epitome of ambition. You could have mistaken her smile for friendly if you didn’t know better.

“Is this a bad time?” Camille asked, without waiting for a response she crossed her legs and sat on the edge of my desk as if she owned the room

"Camille, what do you want?" I leaned back, keeping my tone even.

Oh, Roman." She flicked a neatly manicured nail against the desk and hissed. “You went ahead and got married. Didn't you expect me to know?”

Her words carried the sting of accusation, but I didn’t flinch. “What I do is none of your concern.”

The sound of her laughter annoyed me. “None of my concern? Roman, you don’t get to pull a stunt like this and expect me to stay silent.”

"I did not pull a stunt,'" I said, my voice turning cold. "It's none of your business ."

"Isn't it?" Something dangerous sparkled in Camille's eyes. “You and I, we have history. And now you’re married to... what? So am nobody?”

Her words struck a nerve, but I kept my composure. “That’s enough.”

“Enough? Oh, come on,” she said, her smirk widening. “You can’t expect me not to be curious. Who is this girl you’ve dragged into your world?”

The door creaked open as if on cue. Naomi hesitated as she stood there, the doorway framing her frail body. Her hands clenched around the fabric of her dress as her eyes grew wide at seeing Camille.

“Well,” Camille said, her eyes lighting up. “Speak of the devil.”

With caution, Naomi moved forward, her eyes flitting between us. "I apologize for interrupting—"

"You didn't,” I blurted out, Camille interrupted me with a sweet laugh.

“Oh, darling, you’re not interrupting,” she said, standing. “In fact, I was just asking Roman about you. Naomi, is it?”

Naomi nodded, her voice barely audible. “Yes.”

Camille circled her like a predator sizing up its prey. “Aren’t you just... adorable?”

Naomi recoiled a little at the contempt in her voice. I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to shove Camille out of the room.

“Camille,” I warned, stepping forward.

But she isn't done. "So, Naomi, could you tell me what it's like to be married to someone like Roman?" Her smile was sharp, predatory. "I imagine it's intimidating."

Naomi hesitated before opening her mouth, her eyes darting to me.

“She doesn’t have to answer that,” I said firmly, stepping between them.

“Oh, Roman,” Camille said, feigning innocence. “I’m just making conversation. Don’t be so touchy.”

"It's fine." Naomi replied, her voice little.

"No, it's not," I snapped, giving Camille a fierce look.

But Camille only laughed again, leaning in close to Naomi. “Good luck, darling,” she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “You’ll need it.”

Naomi's shoulders became stiff, and her face went pale. The poison in Camille's words stabbed deep like a knife.

“That’s enough,” I said, my voice dangerously low.

Still grinning, Camille turned back to face me. "I'll leave you two lovers alone," She said, and reached the door.

When she was gone, the silence felt oppressive. Naomi stood there, staring at the floor, her hands trembling slightly.

"She's...your ex?" Finally, in a shaky voice, she asked.

"Yes," I said in a harsh voice.

“She seems very...” Naomi trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Vindictive,” I said.

Naomi's eyes searched mine as she glanced up at me. "Why would she say that to me?"

“She thrives on making others feel small,” I said simply. “Don’t let her get to you.”

Naomi's lips quivered as she shook her head. "It's not that easy."

I was stopped by what she said. She appeared so helpless and lost. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

"I didn't ask for this." Her voice broke as she whispered gently, “I didn’t ask to be part of your world, to be... humiliated like this.”

“You think I wanted this?” I shot back, my voice colder than I intended.

Naomi winced, and I felt a wave of guilt over me. But I couldn’t let it show. “This isn’t about what either of us wanted. It’s about what has to be done.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

I clenched my jaw. " “Right or wrong doesn’t matter here. What matters is survival.”

Naomi's face was a mixture of hurt and rage as she gazed at me. "Survival," she said sourly again. "Is that all this is to you?"

“Yes,” I said, because admitting anything else would be dangerous.

She took a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. “You’re unbelievable,” she whispered, turning to leave.

“Naomi,” I called after her.

She paused but didn’t look back.

"I meant what I said." I went on, “Don’t let someone like Camille get under your skin. She’s not worth it.”

Naomi didn't answer, and then she left after a moment, leaving me to bear the consequences of my words.

I ran my hand through my hair as I leaned against the desk. The walls I’d built around myself were solid, unyielding. But for the first time in a long time, I felt a crack.

And that was dangerous.

Because cracks could lead to collapse.