Camilla's POV
"This place suits you," Gerald murmured as he settled into my couch, his broad shoulders filling the space effortlessly. His dark eyes wandered around the living room with practiced observation, lingering on family photos and personal touches as if he was assembling a mental map of my private world.
"I appreciate that," I managed, though my voice felt strained.
Eden appeared at my side, clutching her ice cream bowl like a weapon. She pressed close enough that her breath tickled my neck as she hissed, "Since when were you planning to bring him inside? I thought this conversation was happening on the porch."
Her tone carried that familiar mix of disbelief and mischief that always spelled trouble.
I glanced toward Gerald, who was studying us with one eyebrow arched. His expression held that calculating look I recognized from boardrooms, like he was trying to decode a conversation happening just outside his reach.
