Cara didn’t sleep.
Not even with Michael wrapped around her like a second skin.
She stared at the ceiling while his breath warmed the back of her neck, the rhythm of his heartbeat pressed against her spine—so steady, so calm… the complete opposite of the war inside her.
Except this wasn’t war.
This was heartbreak dressed up as lust.
Need wrapped in danger.
Love, maybe—if she could still trust that word.
When the morning bled through the curtains, golden and brutal, she slid out of bed. Michael stirred but didn’t open his eyes.
She stood naked by the window, watching shadows dance across her skin.
Camille.
The name burned like poison behind her teeth.
She could almost feel the woman watching her. Mocking her. Daring her to touch what she once owned.
Michael’s voice rasped behind
