The Miracle of You

Christian took a moment to register the warmth seeping through his skin as he continued to embrace Camille from behind.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Despite their contractual relationship, gestures of affection were rare between them. Camille usually shied away from such things and stayed as far away from him as possible.

He, on the other hand, only touched and teased her out of amusement and a desire to see her various reactions. He simply found satisfaction in watching the way her features twisted in irritation and fear.

He knew that there were more layers to her that were yet to be discovered, motivating him to unravel them all until she became an open book for him alone to read.

Right now, Christian couldn’t pinpoint what exactly compelled this rare display of affection from him. The only times he embraced women were to satisfy his desires and nothing more. To be frank, they were mere affairs that he couldn’t care less about.

But with Camille, he could only recall two previous instances of gestures that were remotely affectionate.

One was when he made a teasing gesture to lift her chin and make her look into his eyes. It had shocked her the first time, but she remained motionless, her posture defensive, as if wary that he might attack her at any moment.

The second time was deliberately done in front of his father to show that they had a good relationship and compatibility. That there was one woman in this world he wanted to possess, and that was her.

Christian sometimes wondered if this feeling would last. What if his interest in Camille was temporary? What if he would eventually get bored of her like he always did with the other women he dated and played with in the past?

Well, he was no fortune teller, so he had no way of knowing what might happen in the future. But what he did know was that right now, he wanted her for himself because she was different from the other women, and it was always interesting to have that constant push and pull dynamic.

Meanwhile, in Gregory’s case, the old man only wanted to know if Camille would agree to marry Christian because he felt a little sympathy for the fact that Camille had saved Patricia all those years ago.

Gregory was no fool, Christian knew. But his father couldn’t really do anything unless Camille complained to him personally, which would never happen.

Besides, now that his wife was gone, Gregory no longer cared about anything but his children.

So, Christian knew that Gregory wouldn’t get involved in the matter any further. That little hurdle had been overcome quite easily. Christian could now do whatever he wanted without any restrictions.

Christian felt Camille squirm slightly in his grip, and he couldn’t help but smirk.

No words could adequately describe the satisfaction and sense of power he felt right now. He felt like things were completely going his way.

Now that he knew a lot of useful information, he had a good plan in mind for those who wanted to go against him, and it would be a pleasure to watch it all unfold before his eyes.

Christian leaned forward and whispered in Camille’s ear, “What are you cooking?”

He felt a shiver run through her body, and he smiled with satisfaction. He didn’t care if she was afraid of his question and his closeness or if she was attracted or aroused by it or if it was a mixture of both.

Nevertheless, this reaction excited him.

For a moment, he wondered what would happen if he started toying with her and teasing the shirt off her body bit by bit, starting with the collar down to one side of her shoulder.

He knew that hell would freeze over if she ever agreed to sleep with him, but it would be amusing to try. After all, watching her get agitated was one of Christian’s favorite pastimes.

“I didn’t expect you to be home so early,” she said in a controlled voice. However, due to their proximity and his keen hearing, he could detect a subtle tremor in her tone, a barely perceptible quiver that indicated her anxiety. Her mind was probably racing at the moment, trying to figure out how to react in such a situation.

“You mean you’re only cooking for yourself? That’s not very nice of you, my wife,” Christian teased.

He resisted a chuckle as he felt an immediate tension in her shoulders, her aura radiating an unmistakable unease. He could sense her anxiety and irritation as if it permeated the air. It lingered in her scent as she suppressed those emotions and fought to remain calm.

It was so intoxicating, that feeling.

As time passed, it was as if she became easier for him to read.

On the other hand, if he thought about it deeply, the beginning of the cracks in her facade was right after her fateful reunion with Michael McGregor.

The thought of Michael made Christian tighten his arms around her waist even more, like a possessive husband jealous of a possible third party in the relationship.

He could feel Camille flinch at his sudden grip, but he didn’t loosen it in the slightest.

“I am not your wife,” she gritted out, sounding annoyed.

“But we’re engaged now, aren’t we?” He leaned over her shoulder and bent his head to plant a chaste kiss on her cheek. “I can do things like this to you freely. Why should I wait until we are officially married?”

The sudden intimacy made her stiffen completely.

From his vantage point, he could clearly see her eyes widen in shock. Her hand, still gripping the ladle, tightened until her knuckles turned white. She was trying to control herself at that moment, perhaps from punching him in the face for the unwanted action.

Meanwhile, Christian was having a great time. He had never felt this way before when he kissed a woman. Kisses, especially cold and distant ones, felt like a routine and a solution to his lust.

But when it came to Camille, there was this overwhelming urge to do more, to make her look even more shocked than she was now, to completely dominate her and make her bend to his will.

“What the hell are you doing? …Sir,” she added the last part through gritted teeth, as if she had just remembered that he was still her boss and had complete power over her.