Zeke’s POV
Standing before the dresser mirror in my closet, I felt a pang of vulnerability beneath my carefully constructed facade of confidence. Despite my apparent firmness, Kamille always stirred emotions I hadn't anticipated.
Her avoidance consumed my thoughts; her silence echoed in the empty room. I craved her response, but its absence only deepened my unease. I found myself questioning her actions from her perspective: Why would she come see me? Why believe anything I say? Hadn't she noticed the missing photo of her children—children who bear a striking resemblance to me, a paternity she refuses to acknowledge?
Returning to the room, I searched for the photograph she’d left. It had been on the bedside table, but it was gone. Where could it be? Stolen? Misplaced? Frustration gnawed at me.
A phone notification interrupted my search. An email contained background information on Nanny Dona, Kamille’s chosen caregiver. Relief washed over me as I read the detailed report: Dona was a dedicated, trustworthy caregiver with decades of experience, highly recommended for her nurturing nature and genuine affection for the children in her care. She posed no threat to our family.
Dressed in a well-tailored navy blazer, crisp white shirt, and perfectly fitting dark jeans, I went downstairs to the dining room. The table was elegantly set, complete with fine china, silverware, and a centerpiece of fresh flowers.
"Good evening, sir," Mr. Rogers greeted me with a nod and a warm smile.
"Good evening, Rogers," I replied, passing him.
I sat down and pulled out a napkin. Zane and Fletcher were waiting for me at the casino, so I began eating immediately. The aroma of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables was enticing.
Mr. Rogers excused himself to take a call. I watched him go, a sense of unease settling over me, but continued my meal.
"Excuse me, sir," he said politely, indicating his phone. "You may wish to take this call."
My demeanor remained cold. "From whom?" I asked, my fingers tracing the polished silverware.
"Andrew, the chief security personnel," Rogers replied calmly.
Without a word, I dropped my cutlery and took the phone. "What?" I demanded.
Andrew's voice was unwavering. "Sir, Kamille is leaving her house, dressed for an outing."
Confusion furrowed my brow. "With friends?" I asked, reaching for water.
"No, sir," Andrew replied. "Her attire suggests a dinner date."
Tension coiled in my chest. Anger mingled with frustration and betrayal. The fact that she’d ignored my message but was going on a date stung.
I swallowed hard. "Describe her attire," I demanded, my voice tight with anxiety and frustration.
Andrew's description painted a vivid picture: her makeup, her hair, her dress, her alluring figure. With each word, I almost saw her, radiating beauty and confidence. Despite myself, longing and admiration welled up. Kamille always possessed a magnetic charm. Now, hearing Andrew's description, I felt a mix of pride and jealousy.
The thought of her on a date with someone else gnawed at me. Jealousy and anger surged. I clenched my fists, fighting to control my emotions.
With a steely glare, I said to Andrew, "If you ever describe Kamille like that again, I'll cut out your eyes and tongue." My voice was low and menacing.
"I'm sorry, sir," Andrew muttered.
I took a deep breath. "Split the security team," I ordered. "Some to the house, others to follow her discreetly. Send me her destination and ensure she doesn't notice."
"Understood, sir," Andrew replied frantically.
Ending the call, I rose abruptly, my appetite gone. Mr. Rogers followed as I strode outside, my mind consumed by Kamille and her unsettling plans.
What the fuck are you planning, Kamille?
Reaching my BMW, I demanded the car key from the driver, who showed no surprise at my sudden departure. I turned to enter the car.
"Sir, should I accompany you?" Mr. Rogers asked hesitantly.
I paused, then shook my head. "No, I'll handle this alone. You can retire for the night."
He nodded reluctantly. "As you wish, sir."
With determination, I started the engine. Uncertainty gnawed at me, but I drove off into the night.