Chapter 287

Camila Harrington frowned and looked back. "Were you eavesdropping on my call?" Prescott Ellington leaned against the kitchen counter, effectively boxing her in. "Not eavesdropping—just listening. Openly." He was way too close. So close that even his breath, warm and humid, brushed her cheek. Camila stiffened. Instinctively she tried to step back, but forgot she was already pressed against the cold countertop. The chill from the marble surface hit her lower back, making her flinch, goosebumps spreading across her arms. "What are you so scared of, Camila? I’m not gonna bite." His eyes flicked down to her exposed arm. She was wearing a white Dior shirt, sleeves rolled neatly up to her elbows. Her skin had a natural glow — soft, flawless, with an understated elegance. The longer he stared, the hotter his gaze got, like he was ready to devour her whole. Prescott always had that dangerous charm—enticing, yet a little terrifying. "Can you not stand so close? We’re just talking," she muttered