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I flick my attention back to Xander, and my stomach tightens as I swallow down every bit of fear.

This is the second time he’s threatened a man. For me.

At this moment, I don’t know if I should bow to him or run.

It’s a fucked-up feeling.

Chapter 18

Xander

Ispent the whole night watching her through the cameras on my phone. I managed to link the CCTV cameras of DL to it so I could see her. I couldn’t be there tonight while Jacques was there. He said he was going to keep an eye out in case Aiden showed up. Which caused a problem for me.

But I was watching. I watched her performance. I saw how she looked for me with every turn, every fluid movement, her head whipping in every direction. I watched her when she went into the dressing room after her performance—looking over her shoulder every now and then—and when she emerged in her jean shorts and a green bralette. It did nothing to tame the possessiveness already present due to the fact she was dancing for everyone but me. Then she served dirty criminals with those perky, full breasts on display.

I also watched how every man in that room had their eyes glued on her the entire performance, drool practically leaking out of their open mouths. And that pissed me off more than anything. Because, apparently, everything that circles back to Camila pisses me off.

The longer I think about her working at DL, the more I want to pull her out of there. None of those men in there are worthy of laying eyes on her perfect curves. On the way she pours her soul into her performances.

Not even me.

But I see her. I see that there’s something deeper. However, it was lacking tonight. Every movement was almost lazy—like she could think of better things to be doing. Or missing someone that should’ve been there, watching her.

Me.

Still, it didn’t take away from the hypnotising way that she moves.

To them, it’s just a sexy performance to get their fill of lust for the night, which they aren’t getting from their relationships at home. Most of the men in there are mobsters, criminals, and drug dealers. All their wives care about is their money and living comfortably, so I doubt they pay much attention to what their husbands are doing at night.

I would never do that to my her. If she were mine, she would never have to worry about where I am or who I’m with. She’d be right there beside me the entire time.

Call it delusion, but I’ve been around her enough times to know how her body reacts to me. I’m no fool. I know the effect that I have on her.

She was missing me tonight, too.

She didn’t reply to my text earlier. But I saw that she saw it. I couldn’t help the surge of frustration that shot through me.

And I haven’t heard from Jac, which means their conversation couldn’t have been about me.

I know the exact reason she ignored me—not that it gives her an excuse. And if I wasn’t trying to control myself around her, she’d be punished.

She might be mad at me over Penelope, but her thoughts couldn’t be further from the truth.

If only she knew how much time she spends living in my head rent-free.

I watched as the last patrons left the club, including Jac, from inside my McLaren outside our mansion as the strengthening wind swayed the car gently.

I was ready to pay a visit to her as soon as she left. To my surprise, she was there, helping the bar staff with cleaning. I was prepared to meet her outside her apartment, but this might be even better.

I’m speeding down the motorway to DL, the car reaching over a hundred miles per hour, the rain making it hard to see through the windscreen.

I can’t let Camila drive in this storm; it’s too dangerous.

Looks like she and I are going to have to spend the night inside DL.

A slow grin spreads over my face at the thought of having her all to myself. Where it’s not easy for her to get away from me. Where she can’t tell me to leave.

I wanted to be a patient man, but obsession has its limits. And after Penelope’s stunt yesterday, I’m planning on showing Camila she’s the only woman on my mind.