Camila

My eyes slowly opened to reveal a white ceiling above me. A sharp pain shot through my head as I managed to sit up. The headache was intense, and my body ached all over. I yawned, glancing around the familiar room.

Memories flooded back to me. The visit to the bar with Derek, Antonio's sudden appearance, his confrontation with Derek... and then...

"What the hell!" I practically jumped out of bed. Unbeknownst to me, my legs got tangled in the bedcovers, causing me to lose my balance and land on the floor with a painful thud. I winced in pain. Not only was I dealing with a pounding headache and aching body, but now my butt joined in the chorus of pain.

"Why on earth did I kiss Antonio?" I hissed to myself. I couldn't remember the details clearly, but the image of how his eyes bore into mine with a dangerous intensity remained vivid. After the kiss...

"You're in for it now, Camila." I quickly got to my feet and began pacing around the room. I had thrown up on Antonio. He'd be furious. I was lucky to be alive at this point. Perhaps he wanted me to sober up before he punished me.

Shivers ran down my spine at the thought of what Antonio might do to me. I hadn't just angered him by going to the bar late at night; I had gone further and thrown up on him. Camila, why do you always manage to get yourself into trouble?

Who cares.

Another part of my mind argued. He can't control everything you do just because you're married to him. But I knew deep down that my heart wasn't in sync with that thought. I feared what Antonio might do to me. He had already instilled a sense of fear inside me, and going against him was the last thing I wanted to do, especially in such a reckless manner.

The sudden knock on the door weakened my body even further. I instinctively shifted back, fearing Antonio would storm in like a hungry lion, ready to punish me. But for a brief moment, I felt relief. It was just the maid.

"Ma'am, breakfast is ready. Master wants you downstairs," she announced.

I didn't answer immediately. Going downstairs meant facing Antonio, and that likely meant more punishment. Yet, if I stayed in my room, he would come here, and it might be even worse. I swallowed hard. "Alright," I replied shortly.

As I heard the sound of her disappearing footsteps, I couldn't help but mutter, "You're doomed, Camila."

**

I couldn't explain the overwhelming fear and weakness that had taken hold of my heart and body as I walked toward the dining table where Antonio was seated. I had rehearsed in front of the mirror that I would keep a cool face and pretend not to remember what happened. I took deep breaths before finally reaching the table.

"I sent Helen to call you. What took you so long?" Antonio's sharp tone sent shivers down my spine. I thought I had rehearsed for this.

I proceeded to take my seat when he continued, "Thought I asked you a question?"

I wanted to roll my eyes, but the murderous look in his eyes stopped me. "I was taking a shower," I answered curtly. His gaze shifted from me back to his almost empty plate.

Silence followed as I reached for my own plate, which was covered by another plate. I silently prayed that he wouldn't bring up the topic. But my brief relief was shattered when he spoke again. "Last night."

"Huh?"

Why did you have to answer so fast, Camila? I scolded myself mentally. I should have played it off.

"You should never set foot outside late at night without seeking permission," he scolded me. My grip on the fork tightened. So he wasn't going to talk about the throwing-up incident.

"I can go wherever I want to, just like you," I replied, instantly regretting my words as Antonio's eyes grew darker.

"Not on my watch. I will decide where you can go. And do you think I won't talk about what you did?" My heart sank, and I immediately lost my appetite.

"I don't understand. What happened last night? What did I do?" I raised my gaze, trying to appear serious while looking at him.

"Pretense doesn't suit you. I can see right through you. You had the nerve to throw up on me."

"I was drunk. I couldn't hold it in," I said. Since he had finally brought up the topic, I might as well explain myself.

"You were drunk in the arms of another man."

"He's my friend. I told you last night," I shot back, my gaze locked onto his. His eyes didn't waver, and I refused to look away, even though my heart was pounding loudly.

"I don't want you with him," he declared. I couldn't help but drop my fork with an annoyed chuckle.

"You can't decide who I should be friends with, Antonio. I understand that you hate me, but you can't deprive me of my freedom," I said, my tone serious.

"I don't hate you."

"Yes, you do. Because hatred is what I feel for you."

We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, until Antonio broke the gaze but left me in shock when he splashed a glass of water on my face. I gasped as the cold water enveloped my skin. "Stop looking at me with those eyes of yours," he snapped.

"I hate it."

I knew it. He hated me. There was no way I could believe he didn't, not when Antonio Di Salvatore didn't have a soft spot for anyone. I swallowed hard and rose to my feet. I had lost my appetite completely. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"To clean myself, of course. I can't go to work in drenched clothes," I replied.

"Make it snappy," he ordered.

"Why? Aren't you leaving for work?" I found myself asking.

"We are leaving together. You have ten minutes. I don't have the patience to wait for you." With that, my legs charged upstairs.

As soon as I closed the door behind me, I exhaled deeply. "Camila, you're stuck with a wicked man," I whispered before rushing toward the wardrobe.

I changed out of the drenched clothes and opted for something simpler. I applied a bit of powder to cover up smeared eyeliner and traced my fingers over the scar Antonio had left on my chest. It was still visible. I forced a smile before heading downstairs.

The living room was empty when I descended. Before I could inquire, Helen beat me to it. "Mr. Antonio has already left," she informed me.

Impatient man, I thought, rolling my eyes. I stepped outside and saw that Antonio was already in his car. I deliberately unlocked the back door and was about to enter when his sharp voice cut through the air. "Unless you want your little legs cut off, you better sit in the front." Okay, I was just trying to rile him up a bit.

Camila, you know how to make more trouble for yourself, my inner voice chided. I bit my bottom lip before sliding into the front seat. "You should know how to behave yourself," he said, sparing me a glance.

"I don't understand. What behavior?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"This dress is too revealing. I warned you about wearing revealing clothes. You look like a whore." I didn't miss how his eyes lingered on my cleavage.

"Isn't that what I am to you? Your personal whore," I retorted, knowing I might regret saying that. But my inner voice was urging me to speak my mind, even if it got me in trouble. It was better than holding it in.

"Mind your tongue," he warned, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. His tone should have silenced me, but it didn't.

"I don't want to be reminded of that night, but I have to admit, you are worse than a serial killer."

He was taken aback by my outburst and suddenly slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a halt. His piercing gaze locked onto mine, dangerously. "Say that again, and I promise you a slap."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "I thought you'd threaten to shoot me, since that's what you're skilled at. Know this..." A sudden surge of strength coursed through my body, and I didn't know how I found the courage. I met his dangerous gaze, reached for his hand, and placed it on my chest. I didn't care whether he could feel my heart pounding through his palm. I needed to tell him how I felt about him.

I stared into his eyes once again, deep. "This heart has been shattered by you. It has bled so much that it doesn't fear anything anymore. From now on, Antonio, a dead person is all you will see in me. I promise you."