Camilla was deep asleep when Cyrus stepped into the bedroom. His sharp gaze darted to her petite figure sprawled across the bed, her dark hair tumbling over her delicate face. The soft rise and fall of her chest, the faint parting of her lips, the way the silk sheets clung to her frame—it all stirred something inside him.

Something dangerous.

His jaw tightened as his hands instinctively curled into fists.

Why did she have to look so damn peaceful? So tempting?

He tore his gaze away, unbuttoning his shirt with precision. Carter had informed him about the presents his mother sent to Camilla, although he had no idea what it...