Just the press of a button,her traitorous inner voice whispered.It was so easy before, and the risk so minimal. What is a call, anyway?One click and you could hear his voice again.
The temptation of a promised reward was almost too much to bear.
The uncomfortable prickling of her skin would fade. Her heartbeat would slow. Peace could be hers for another stolen, selfish moment.
A blink and her phone was in her hand. Camille squinted at the bright screen, her slit pupils contracting into razor-thin lines as her vision adjusted. “Don’t call him,” she sternly ordered herself, an edge of pure desperation in her voice. The phone shook in her trembling hand. “Don’t do it, Camille.”
If she needed to talk to someone so bad, Camille decided, she could just call her brother. He was worried about her, and she knew he’d be up. Even if he wasn’t, he would take her call.
But calling Cameron would open up more wounds than it would close. Their bond was such that he would know immediately that something was terribly wrong with her. She had no doubt that he’d cut short his vacation with his consort and rush home as soon as the call ended.
Camille couldn’t bear that. Her twin had only just come up for air after spending so long suffering under their mother’s withering disapproval. He deserved his happiness, his peace.
And I know who I really want to talk to.
She chewed her lip, her eyes fixed on that innocuous string of numbers that had sent her the text during her lunch with Margot.
Would he perceive her reaching out to him as weakness? Would it matter if he did? Camille vacillated with not caring either way — he had seen her at her most vulnerable that evening, after all — and shuddering at the idea of him knowing their call had shattered so many of her defenses.
She began to lower the phone, her gut soured by the idea of giving in, but couldn’t quite bring herself to let it drop onto the blankets.
What’s the harm? He already knows everything. Maybe if you’re lucky, he won’t answer.
Now that the idea of hearing his voice again was in her mind, she couldn’t shake it loose. Even as she tried to reason her way out of doing it, Camille lifted the phone again and, with one trembling thumb, dared to hit thecallbutton.
Checking to make sure it was on audio only, she lay back in her pillows and squeezed her eyes shut. It rang and rang, each discordant note striking a blow in the warm darkness. Dread settled over her.He’s not going to answer.
That was good. It was foolish and sentimental to call him in the dead of night, anyway. They had their meeting planned. Surely she didn’t need to add one more bad decision to her roster for the evening.
Mind made up and stomach roiling with self-recriminating disappointment, Camille moved her thumb across the screen to end the call.
“Cam?”
Viktor’s voice came through the line crystal clear. It brushed across her senses in a silken caress, both soothing and anxiety-inducing. He didn’t sound sleepy, but he still had that peculiar note to his voice that people got when they were laying down.
Her breath hitched. Words fled. Now that she had him on the line, what was she supposed to say? Panic and embarrassment overwhelmed her.
“Sweetheart, I can hear you breathing. Are you okay?” She heard a faint rustle before his voice changed. Camille imagined him sitting up in bed, his hair tousled and his skin bare, and gripped her phone tight enough to make it creak. “Cam, sweetheart, say something so I know you aren’t bleeding out on the bathroom floor or something.Please.”
She forced herself to swallow, despite the fact that her throat was dry enough to light a match. “I’m fine. I just wanted— I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called. It’s late. I’m sorry, I’ll just—”
“Sweetheart.” Viktor’s low purr stopped the progress of her finger, which had been inching toward theend callbutton. There was a lilting note of surprise in his tone when he asked, “Did you call just to talk to me?”
She briefly considered lying, but the idea didn’t get far. What would she say? No, I called the wrong number?
Biting back a low, pained groan, Camille leaned her head back into her pillow and tartly replied, “This was a mistake. If you’d rather be sleeping, I can let you go.”
“Camille, the day I’d rather be sleeping than talking to you is the day you should put me in the ground.”
“Yes, well…” She paused, flustered, and cleared her throat. “Now that I’m talking to you, I don’t know what to say.”
“Why’d you call, sweetheart? What made you want to talk to me? Is everything okay? Don’t get me wrong— I’m fucking ecstatic you called, but I thought after tonight you’d want some space.”
Her eyes roved over the ceiling, tracing the intricate molding designed to look like bunches of leaves and flowers and fruit.Gods, I should not admit this to him.
But she was already in deep, wasn’t she? He knew about the pull and she was the one who made the choice to callhim.If he really wanted to know why, then she supposed it wasn’t unreasonable of him to ask. Letting out a slow breath, she braced herself for what she was about to say.
“The pull is… difficult.”
