The door of the master bedroom closed with a solid, final click.

The instant the brass latch locked into place, the perfect illusion completely shattered.

Camilla and Damon stood in the middle of the large bedroom, glaring at each other. The quiet air in the room was suddenly thick with highly irritated tension.

They continued their bickering immediately.

Camilla aggressively rubbed her right hand. Her knuckles were slightly red.

"You have an absolutely terrible grip," Camilla complained out loud, her voice full of sharp sarcasm. She glared at his large hands. "You squeezed my fingers so hard under the table I thought my bones were going to turn into fine powder. Are you trying to hold a sword or a human hand, General?"

Damon did not back down. He crossed his strong arms tightly over his broad chest. He shifted his weight, wincing just a tiny bit as he moved his left foot.

"And you have feet made of sharp iron," Damon retaliated coldly, his deep voice slicing through the quiet room. He looked down at her delicate shoes. "You stepped on my boots with your sharp heel. You did it completely on purpose. You put your entire body weight into it."

Camilla scoffed loudly. She placed her hands on her hips, lifting her chin defiantly.

"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about," Camilla lied smoothly, her eyes flashing with wicked amusement. "I was just trying to sit comfortably. If my foot accidentally slipped and crushed your toes, it is entirely your own fault for putting your big boots in my way."

Damon narrowed his dark eyes. He took a single step closer to her.

"You are a menace," Damon stated firmly. "You smiled at my grandfather while you were actively trying to kill me under the tablecloth. You are incredibly deceitful."

"And you are a massive hypocrite," Camilla shot back instantly, targeting Damon with her sharp remarks without a single ounce of fear.

"You smiled at him and acted like a loving puppy dog, while you were secretly threatening to take away my one single wish. We both put on a great show in front of your grandfather."

They stood a few feet apart, staring each other down. They had both survived the stressful family dinner, but their nerves were completely frayed.

After a few more minutes of trading sharp, sarcastic remarks back and forth, Camilla finally let out a very long, very tired sigh.

The events of the day were catching up to her. She had visited her brother, ordered six half-naked escorts, and lied to the head of the Benson family. She was completely, utterly exhausted.

Her beautiful sapphire-blue dress felt heavy and tight. She wanted to wash the smell of roasted duck and sweet wine off her skin.

Camilla pointed her finger directly toward the door.

"Leave," Camilla commanded simply. Her voice was flat and tired. "I want to undress and have my bath. Go stand in the hallway."

Damon stared at her pointing finger. His thick, dark eyebrows pulled together in a deep, highly offended frown.

He does not take orders from anyone, especially not in his own private sanctuary.

"Leave?" Damon replied, his voice rising slightly in pure disbelief. He uncrossed his arms and gestured widely to the large, stone walls around them. "This is MY room. I have slept in this room for years. If anyone should leave and go stand in the cold hallway, it should be you."

Camilla rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. She dropped her pointing hand and placed it back on her hip.

"So what?" Camilla asked, her tone dripping with heavy sarcasm. "Your grandfather, the mighty Duke Carson, explicitly told you to bring your wife up to this room to rest. If I walk out that door and Uncle Murry sees me wandering in the hallway, your grandfather will know we are fighting. He will come back and beat you with his silver cane."

Damon clenched his jaw. He knew she was absolutely right. He was completely trapped in this room with her until the morning.

But his stubborn pride refused to let her win. He refused to be kicked out of his own space just so she could bathe in peace.

"I am not leaving," Damon stated stubbornly. He walked over to the small wooden table and leaned his hip against it, crossing his arms again. He looked completely immovable. "You can wash your face in the basin. You don’t need the whole room."

Camilla watched him act like a stubborn, grumpy rock.

She let out a loud, harsh scoff.

She realized that arguing with him logically was completely useless. He only understood military tactics. So, she decided to change her strategy entirely. If he wanted to play a game of stubborn pride, she was going to use a weapon he was completely terrified of.

She was going to use extreme, shameless boldness.

Camilla completely relaxed her posture. She dropped her hands from her hips. She looked directly into his serious eyes.

"You want to see me naked, don’t you?" Camilla said bluntly.

Her voice was not loud, but the words echoed in the quiet bedroom like a massive explosion.

Damon completely froze.

His eyes widened to their absolute, maximum limit. The calm, stubborn expression on his face completely shattered into a million pieces. He stared at her.

"CAMILLA?" Damon gasped loudly, his deep voice cracking slightly in pure, unadulterated shock.

He pushed himself off the wooden table, taking a quick, panicked step backward. He could not believe she had just said those words out loud in such a casual, clear voice.

Noblewomen did not speak like that! 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Camilla did not look embarrassed at all. In fact, seeing his absolute panic gave her a massive surge of confidence. She knew she had found his weak spot.

Camilla replied, refusing to back down even a single inch.

"What?" Camilla asked, tilting her head to the side. She put on a face of completely fake innocence. "Am I wrong? You refuse to leave the room while I need to undress. The only logical conclusion is that you want to see my body."

She shook her head slowly, clicking her tongue against her teeth in mock disappointment.

"I never knew you could be this shameless, General," Camilla continued to tease him ruthlessly. "Acting so cold all the time, but secretly waiting for me to take my clothes off."

"I am not—" Damon tried to argue, his face turning a dark shade of pink.

Camilla completely ignored his weak protest. She took a slow, confident step toward him.

"You can just ask me directly," Camilla offered, her voice dropping into a soft, smooth, highly teasing purr. She took another slow step closer. "I am your wife, after all. It is not a big deal for me. You don’t have to be so sneaky about it."

Damon’s heart started to hammer against his ribs. He took another step backward, but his back suddenly hit the hard stone wall. He was completely trapped.

Camilla walked right up to him. She stopped just a few inches away from his broad chest.

She had to tilt her head up to look into his panicked, wide eyes.

For the very first time since she had arrived in this strange novel, she did not call him ’My Lord’ or ’General’.

She called his name for the very first time.

"Tell me, Damon," Camilla whispered softly. Her voice sounded incredibly intimate and sweet.

Damon completely stopped breathing.

Hearing his actual first name coming from her lips sent a strange, electric shiver straight down his spine. It felt entirely different from her usual sarcastic titles.

Camilla slowly raised both of her small, pale hands.

She did not touch him. She brought her hands to the front of her own beautiful, sapphire-blue dress.

The dress was held together by a long, delicate silk ribbon laced tightly through a front corset.

Keeping her eyes locked completely onto his, Camilla reached out and took hold of the end of the blue silk ribbon.

Very, very slowly, she pulled.

The knot came undone. She slowly untied the front corset.

The tight blue fabric loosened slightly. The neckline of her dress, which was already sitting very low on her shoulders, shifted just a tiny fraction of an inch downward.

"What do you want to see?" Camilla asked, her voice a dark, teasing whisper.