Who is he, and why do I feel this way just at the sound of his voice?
She was aware, and grateful, that he couldn’t see much of her in the evening light, yet his piercing gaze seemed to unravel her carefully woven facade, seeing straight through her pretense.
I am here to secure my family’s future, not to lose myself in the allure of a stranger’s mysterious countenance.
Camelia remembered the woman from earlier and attempted to saunter to the stranger as she did, but her unsure movements betrayed her confidence. Her fingers fumbled at the hood of her cloak, catching it just before it slipped, and she summoned a coy smile that danced between nervousness and allure.
“I’m not lost, sir,” she attempted to purr seductively. “I sought you out.”
A rush of heat bloomed across her cheeks, sparked by the boldness of her words.
The stranger’s eyebrow arched, and she held her breath, silently willing him to respond.
What am I doing, daring to play such a dangerous game with a man like him?
He stood unwavering, arms crossed over his muscular chest, and nodded at her. It was a gesture that beckoned her closer.
Camelia’s eyes flitted nervously in fear, yet she inched forward until she stood a mere breath away from him. His warm, musky, and intoxicating scent enveloped her, sending a dizzying rush through her.
“Is that so, little flower?” he asked, lightly amused.
“Little flower?” She cocked her head and felt her curls caress her cheek.
The stranger’s right hand rose, and Camelia froze, her breath catching as uncertainty gripped her. His fingers brushed her chest. It was a featherlight touch, yet it sent a jolt through her.
Her gaze dropped to find her cloak parted, revealing the delicate floral embroidery of her gown. Fear pulsed in her veins, yet she steeled herself. Her purpose overtook her terror.
His dark and unyielding eyes locked onto hers, a possessive glint in them.
“You tremble, yet you stand your ground.” His voice was a low, velvety growl that curled around her like smoke. “Bold, for one who seems so delicate.”
Camelia swallowed, summoning a small smile, though her heart thundered.
“My lord,” she said, softer than she intended, “you gaze upon me as if I were yours to claim, but such liberties come at a price.”
His eyebrow arched, a shadow of amusement playing across his chiseled features, though his eyes remained predatory.
“A price?” he echoed, his commanding presence swallowing the space between them. “Name it, little flower. But be warned—when I claim what I desire, my passion is all but gentle.”
Run, Camelia.
But she felt drawn to him. Her body quivered as she held his stare, emboldened by the heat of his words. She did not have any experience with men, but her words flowed easily in his presence.
“I said I am for sale, not for free.” A thrill surged through her as the shadows seemed to curl around the stranger like a dark omen.
Her lips were inches away from his as she stood tall and regal before him despite the tremor in her core. She was grateful for her father’s decision to delay her debut these past two seasons, a shield that kept her unrecognizable. At least, she prayed it did.
Is he fighting the urge to reach for me?
She caught the subtle movement of his left fist, clenching and unclenching at his side.
“You mentioned that you sought me. And who are you, little flower, to seek me in such a place?” he asked softly, his eyes flicking to the dilapidated brothel beside them.
“I… I work there,” Camelia stammered, gesturing toward the brothel with a trembling hand.
The lie was clumsy, and the man narrowed his eyes at her.
Please believe me.
