Ruthless Hearts

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Meeting of T

aid flatly. "Get ready. And stop thinking about things that never happened." With that, he turned, his voice laced with finality. "Oh, and another thing," he added, pausing at the door. "I'm not even attracted to you talk more of sexually. Get that through your head." The door slammed behind him. Camilie's hands clenched the duvet, anger bubbling in her chest. She hated him. She hated him more than anything. She stormed into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the hot water cascade over her skin. The steam curled around the glass walls, filling the space with thick fog. She let out a sharp breath, frustration burning through her. Then, without thinking, she started singing-loudly. Luciano returned minutes later, brows furrowing at the noise. He expected to find her in bed, only to realize she was in the bathroom. The glass shower door did little to obscure her figure. His breath hitched. The steam only added to the effect, making the water droplets on her skin shimmer under the light. Her hourglass shape, the smooth curve of her waist, the perfect arch of her back-everything about her was sinful. His jaw tightened. He needed to leave. Before he could, she turned off the water, sensing his presence. When she faced him, their gazes locked. Luciano's eyes traveled downward, lingering on her bare chest, on the hard peaks of her red nipples, flushed and vulnerable under his gaze. Camille gasped, instinctively covering herself with her arms. "Give me a towel," she demanded, voice sharp. Luciano didn't move. Didn't blink. She shifted uncomfortably under his stare. "Luciano." Still, nothing. For the first time, he didn't have a sharp retort, didn't throw out some cold remark. He just stared. Then, finally, he exhaled, shaking his head as if to clear his mind. "You're disturbing the house," he muttered. And then, just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there-exposed, humiliated, and seething with rage. She hated him even more. Luciano returned to his study, but he couldn't focus. His underground hideout, the one only he and his father knew about, called to him, but even there, he knew it wouldn't help. Every time he tried to concentrate, his mind wandered-to the shower, to her bare body, to the way she had looked at him earlier. He cursed under his breath. No. He wouldn't let himself fall for her. He grabbed his whiskey, downing three glasses before he could feel something other than this damned temptation. Evening arrived. Camille dressed in a simple red dress, breathtaking despite its simplicity. Her curves fit into it perfectly, and Luciano found himself gripping the car wheel a little too tightly as he drove them to his father's estate. The boat ride to the Volkov Isolation Home was quiet. The ocean stretched around them, dark and endless, its waves gently lapping against the vessel. Despite the stillness, Camilie found herself feeling more at peace than she had since this nightmare of a marriage began. Maybe it was the fresh air. Maybe it was the temporary escape from Luciano's overbearing presence. Or maybe it was the promise of meeting someone-his father-who might treat her like a human being. As they neared the estate, her breath hitched. The Volkov home was stunning. An architectural masterpiece nestled on its private island, surrounded by thick forests and guarded by high walls. The mansion itself was massive, its towering white columns and pristine gardens giving it an air of quiet sophistication. The lights from the estate glowed warmly against the night sky, making the place feel... safe. The boat docked, and as they stepped off, a line of guards stood at attention. Their presence should have unsettled her, but instead, it reassured her. There was security here. Stability. And then, standing at the entrance, waiting for them-was Mr. Volkov. Unlike his son, Mr. Volkov carried himself with an air of charm. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and in his early sixties, yet still imposing. His sharp features were softened by a warm, practiced smile, and his piercing blue eyes gleamed with something that resembled kindness. "Camilie, my dear!" His deep voice boomed with affection as he opened his arms. Camille blinked, surprised by the warmth in his tone. Before she could react, he pulled her into a firm embrace, holding her like she was truly family. For a moment, she froze. She had expected coldness, maybe even the same ruthless demeanor as Luciano. But this... this was different. "Welcome home," Mr. Volkov said softly. A strange comfort settled in her chest. Maybe-just maybe-this man wasn't as cruel as his son. Luciano, standing beside them, merely watched the exchange with unreadable eyes. Volkov then turned to his son, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder. "Luciano. It's been a while since you visited." Luciano only nodded, his expression blank. As they stepped inside, the warmth of the estate surrounded them. The interior was just as breathtaking as the exterior-rich, dark wood floors, chandeliers dripping with crystals, walls lined with expensive art. Yet, despite the luxury, there was something homely about it. Camilie inhaled deeply. This place felt different. She didn't know how, but it felt... safe. Mr. Volkov led them to a lavish sitting area where a fire crackled in the grand fireplace. He motioned for them to sit, and Camilie found herself relaxing on the plush couch. Then, he turned to her with a kind smile. "So, my dear, how i