VIDAL

EIGHT

For the past two weeks, Enzo had all but faded from Camilla's mind as she buried herself in work. Between her long hours assisting Giulia and helping Kevin on the side, her days felt relentless, leaving little room for anything else.

After work, she'd been accompanying Kevin back to his townhouse, where they'd go over the details of his case late into the night, dissecting every piece of evidence, every angle the prosecution might use.

Her gaze swept across the interior, taking in the high ceilings adorned with ornate moldings, and the subtle glow of elegant pendant lights that hung like jewels above.

The air was scented with a hint of fresh flowers, which rested in tasteful arrangements throughout the living room. Soft, neutral tones dominated the space, punctuated by splashes of color in carefully curated art pieces that spoke of Kevin's refined taste.

The living room was a perfect blend of sophistication and comfort—oversized sofas beckoned with plush cushions, while a chic coffee table displayed an artful arrangement of books and delicate trinkets. It was clear Kevin put a lot of pride in his home, it was nearly perfect every time she had came.

The case itself was brutal—a high-profile murder involving Claudia Von Claude, accused of killing her wealthy husband, Tyler.

Camilla sat cross-legged on the floor in Kevin's study, a pile of documents around her, carefully cross-referencing the timelines.

The evidence against Claudia was damning: fingerprints, surveillance footage showing her entering Tyler's study minutes before the gunshot, and a string of heated text messages exchanged in the days leading up to his death.

Kevin was pacing as he reviewed a deposition, glancing over at her occasionally as he sipped his coffee.

"I don't see how they can make a case without more solid proof," he muttered, almost to himself.

Camilla shrugged. "The circumstantial evidence is strong, though. It might be enough to convince a jury if we can't find any inconsistencies."

He nodded, pausing to look at her thoughtfully. "You know, I don't think I ever told you why I became a lawyer."

She glanced up, curious. "No, you haven't."

Kevin smiled, though there was a trace of bitterness in it. "My father. He's this... overbearing, impossible man. He expected me to either follow in his footsteps or do something that would make him proud by his standards. Law was the closest thing I could do that felt right to me, but it wasn't exactly my choice."

Camilla thought about it, feeling a strange pang of sympathy. "You're lucky you even know him well enough to hate him. I never met mine."

Kevin looked at her, his expression softening. "You're probably better off," he said quietly, his gaze lingering.

A comfortable silence settled between them as they returned to their work, but Camilla felt Kevin's presence more acutely, the energy between them shifting subtly. She tried to focus, skimming over deposition notes, but after a few minutes, Kevin's voice broke the quiet again.

"That dress you wore at the gala," he murmured, almost hesitant. "You looked... incredible. I couldn't take my eyes off you."

Caught off guard, Camilla felt her cheeks flush. She tried to keep her tone light. "Thank you. It was... a gift."

Kevin's gaze was steady, warmer than usual. "I mean it, Camilla. You looked beautiful." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "To be honest, I've had a bit of a crush on you for a while."

Camilla blinked, taken aback. "You... have?"

Kevin smiled, a little bashfully. "Yeah. I didn't want to cross any lines since you were working under me. It wouldn't have been fair, or professional." He hesitated, meeting her gaze. "But now that you're with Giulia... I thought maybe it wouldn't hurt to say how I feel."

His confession hung in the air, and Camilla felt a pang of guilt. Kevin was good to her, kind and thoughtful—everything she should want in a partner.

But her pulse didn't quicken when she looked at him. There was no spark, no fire; he was steady, reliable, almost safe. He didn't evoke the same depth of feeling that Enzo had, no electric connection that left her breathless. With Enzo, one look had left her entire body buzzing; with Kevin, she felt only warmth, no desire.

But then, she thought of her mother, who had loved and lost, left behind by a man who'd never been serious. She didn't want to end up the same way, chasing something fleeting. Maybe this was what she needed—someone dependable, someone who wouldn't leave her standing in the cold.

She glanced up at Kevin, feeling almost resigned, a small part of her whispering that maybe she owed it to herself to give this a try, to see if love could grow from kindness.

Before she could say anything, he leaned forward, his lips brushing hers. She let him kiss her, feeling the soft warmth of it, but her heart didn't race. She wasn't swept away.

Instead, it felt almost as if she were checking a box, convincing herself this was what she was supposed to want.

When they pulled back, Kevin smiled, his gaze affectionate and genuine. "I guess I've waited long enough to do that."

Camilla managed a small smile in return, though something in her heart felt hollow. "Maybe," she said softly.

"Well," he murmured, "maybe we should wrap up for tonight?"

She nodded, gathering her things, her mind swirling. This kiss didn't hold the passion or intensity she'd felt with Enzo, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

Maybe she was protecting herself by keeping things calm, predictable.

As they left, the cold evening air brought her back to reality, her thoughts spinning. She wondered where this would lead—if it could ever become what she truly wanted, or if Kevin would only ever be a placeholder for something that felt real.

~*~

Enzo sat in his car, parked inconspicuously a few houses down from Kevin's townhouse. His gaze was glued to the front door, watching as shadows moved behind the curtains.

This had become a nightly routine for him, and though he hated himself for it, he couldn't stay away. Each time he saw her walk through Kevin's door, his heart tightened, jealousy building as his mind filled with unbidden images.

He imagined them together, his imagination torturing him with scenarios that sent a possessive rage through his veins.

Kevin was supposed to be just her boss, but each time Enzo saw Camilla's smile as she entered that house, her soft laughter floating through the air as she bid Kevin goodnight, the dark thoughts crept in.

What did they do behind those closed doors?

How close had they gotten?

Tonight was no different. Enzo watched, jaw clenched, as Camilla stepped out of Kevin's townhouse, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light. She said something to Kevin, laughing, and he felt his grip on the steering wheel tighten.

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to go to her, to pull her away from Kevin and remind her of the pull they'd shared, the connection he hadn't felt with anyone else.

Then, as if sensing his turmoil, Kevin leaned forward, pressing a brief kiss to her lips.

That was the last straw.

Enzo's blood boiled, the world narrowing to the sight of Kevin touching her, holding her in the way Enzo longed to. Without thinking, he reached for his door handle, ready to storm out and confront him, his emotions threatening to spiral out of control.

But just as he was about to throw the door open, his phone buzzed, breaking him from his haze. Glancing down, he saw Francesco's name on the screen.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to steady his pulse before he answered. "Francesco."

"Enzo," Francesco's voice was calm, almost soothing, and yet Enzo sensed a hint of curiosity in his tone. "How's everything going with Camilla?"

Enzo glanced back at the townhouse, watching as Kevin's car drove away and Camilla disappeared inside.

The image of Kevin's kiss burned in his mind, but he kept his voice level.

"She's safe," he replied, though the word felt like a bitter compromise.

Francesco paused, then continued, "I've been thinking, Enzo. About introducing her to the family. I'm torn. She's safer where she is, out of our world."

Enzo felt a knot tighten in his chest. "Maybe, but leaving her there... it means leaving her to a life of poverty. Her apartment's small, run-down. She didn't even have working locks until I fixed them." His voice softened, almost without him realizing it, the care he felt slipping through.

There was a brief silence on Francesco's end before his voice returned, sharper, questioning.

"Just how close have you gotten to her, Enzo?"

Enzo swallowed, wrestling his emotions back under control. "I've kept my distance," he replied carefully. "And from what I can see, she appears to be... involved." The bitterness in his voice was harder to mask than he'd intended.

Another pause. "Involved? With her boss?"

"Yes. Kevin. They're... close." He forced the words out, though they tasted bitter. "She's working with him, involved with Aleks through her work. It keeps her safe, for now."

His tone softened, becoming almost paternal. "She deserves the right to make her own choice. If she wants to know about her family, it should be her decision."

Enzo felt his heart race at Francesco's words. He knew what this meant—it was the green light he'd been waiting for, a way to see her, to talk to her. He struggled to keep the eagerness from his voice, answering only with a steady, "Understood. I'll handle it."

"Good," Francesco replied, satisfaction clear in his voice. "And, Enzo... keep her safe. But don't forget where your loyalty belongs. We can't afford any distractions."

Enzo hung up, the weight of the conversation settling over him as he stared at Camilla's darkened window. His loyalty, his duty, and his desire all pulled in conflicting directions, but one thing was clear: he would have to tell her.

And for the first time since he'd taken on this mission, he felt the thrill of having a reason to see her again.