"Camilla,"
Antonio's lips curved into a smile, his eyes warm yet carrying an undercurrent of something darker.
"You're smart.
You should know by now," he murmured, his gentle voice laced with a leisurely sort of menace.
"Whether Fanny comes to harm doesn't depend on me—it depends on you."
Camilla's gaze sharpened, her delicate face an unreadable mask.
"What do you want?"
Her soft, icy tone was like frozen steel, cutting and unyielding.
"I want you to divorce Sinclair and be with me," Antonio lowered his lashes, his handsome features shadowed with something inscrutable.
"Camilla, I want you by my side."
Antonio repeated the words calmly, his voice slow and deliberate.
Camilla's slender fingers curled into tight fists, her knuckles whitening as she suppressed the storm inside.
"Antonio," she said coolly, "I don't like you.
I never have.
What you're doing is pointless."
"Never had feelings for me, huh?"
