Chapter 17

"Shut up," Prescott growled, his brows furrowed. His voice was low and raspy, clearly holding something back, but Camila was too shaken to catch it. When she finally made out his figure standing by the bed, her already pale face darkened with anger. "You... how did you even get in here?" She was sure she had locked the door. Even if by some chance she hadn't, she'd shoved a heavy chair against it-he shouldn't have been able to get in without making a sound. Camila was a light sleeper. If he had come through the door, no way she wouldn't have noticed. Unless... he came through the window? But that didn't make sense either, it was pouring outside. If he'd climbed in through the window, he'd be soaked-and he wasn't. "I come and go as I please," Prescott said, eyes sharp, voice full of arrogant certainty. "There's no place in this estate I can't walk into." "It's the middle of the night! What are you doing here? I'm trying to sleep. Whatever you've got to say, we can talk tomorrow. Please