Chapter 11

Prescott came to a sudden stop, his gaze dropping to the small, flawless hand tugging at his shirt. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, a quiet warning in them. Camila froze under that look, a chill running down her spine. She yanked her hand back-only halfway-before noticing the white pullover she'd tugged was now a wrinkled mess. With a guilty wince, she reached out again, trying to smooth out the fabric. Her fingers moved back and forth over the crease, clearly just trying to fix the mess she'd made. But the second her hand made contact again, she stopped dead in her tracks. Wait a second... was that abs? Like, actual hard abs? "Had enough?" came his voice from above-low, deep, and with that ever-so-distracting magnetic edge. "Y-yeah... more than enough..." she blurted out before her brain even caught up. Then immediately, her cheeks went up in flames, turning crimson in a flash like she'd just face-planted into a heater. Seriously, what the hell was she doing? Could this moment get any worse? "You sure? You're still holding on," Prescott said, throwing a side-eye her way. His obsidian-like eyes were unreadable, yet somehow teasing. Then, out of nowhere, he leaned in close, just enough so she could feel the curve of his lips as he smirked. "What? Got attached already? Want me to take it off so you can keep going?" That breath of his-it was cool yet somehow scorching at the same time, brushing across her face again and again. Camila's heart did a league sprint in her chest. "N-no, that's okay." She instinctively flinched, quickly pulling her hand back as if burned. At the same time, her slender frame leaned away from him in a messy retreat. "I didn't mean to... it wasn't on purpose," she mumbled, her eyes staring at her shoes, lips barely moving. Oh no. He must think she did that on purpose. Could she just disappear now? Camila, at this point, desperately wanted the floor to swallow her whole. Goodbye, self-esteem. Prescott's eyes stayed locked on her, those inky pupils sharp and unmoving. And as he watched her, all embarrassed, ducking her head like some shy critter, he couldn't help but find it amusing. Interesting. He hoped she'd stay this amusing. As that sly smile pulled at his lips, he took another step toward her. His tall frame-he had to be around 6'1"-slowly leaned in again, gradually blocking out the light above her, casting his shadow right over her. His sharp, dark eyes locked right onto her flustered gaze, voice low and even, "You thought I went through your bag just now?" Camila's heart gave a hard thump under the weight of that stare, and her mouth went dry for no reason at all. But she wasn't about to back down-no way. This was a matter of pride. Clenching her fist quietly, she met his eyes head-on, those clear eyes of hers like glass catching the light. "...Didn't you? How else would you know my name?" She had definitely suspected Prescott might've looked into her. But come on, it'd only been one night. Even if he really had people digging, how could they have found something so fast? This was Meridia, and she was an Elaris citizen. Trying to track someone down in a country this size overnight? Not likely. Though... Camila wasn't that confident in her own logic either. People like him, the kind who could casually pull someone's background out of thin air-she'd never actually run into anyone like that before. Maybe she really was too inexperienced. "Camila, you're underestimating me. It's just a name-stuff like that means nothing. If I wanted to know more, trust me, you wouldn't have any secrets left. Digging through your bag? I wouldn't even bother." His tone was calm, but his eyes held a quiet depth that made her feel uneasy again, like he could see straight through her. Camila's gut screamed that staying here wasn't safe. She blinked, suppressing the emotion in her eyes, then lifted her head with a smile that was sweet, polite-and totally fake. "So, I just wanted to say thank you and head out now. Could you possibly have someone drive me into the city? Or if that's tricky, maybe just help me call a cab? Oh, and about my bag-I heard one of the staff say you took it. Do you think... maybe someone could bring it over?" Her voice was extra soft now, even added a respectful tone just for good measure. She figured she'd already shown enough humility-surely even if he didn't care to have her escorted, at least he'd arrange a taxi. That wasn't asking too much... right? Turns out reality has a way of smacking people in the face. Right the next second, Camila got smacked hard-Prescott's gaze turned downright dangerous, lips tugging into a cold smirk. "Who told you you could leave?"