𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

9. Captivated By Rebellion

"You're so dead, detective," I muttered, my eyes narrowing with determination. A few servants came rushing with wet towels to clean the mess, their eyes darting nervously between us.

"If you had wanted me dead, I would have been six feet under by now," she smirked, her voice dripping with sass. My anger didn't face her. She is one tough skittle. My hand shot out, gripping Camille's chin firmly. I leaned in, our faces inches apart, my gaze piercing into her eyes.

"Well, that is true. You're only living because I want you to. But you seem to forget your place, detective," I murmured, my voice low and filled with a warning. "Im not the one to be messed with." Camille's breath hitched, defiance swirling within her grey eyes.

"And I am not one to be intimidated easily," she retorted, removing my hold on her chin.

"I see you've gone from annoying to downright dangerous, my sweet nemesis," I remarked, patting her hair since I knew it annoyed her.

"Stop touching my hair. Do you have a fucking death wish?" She snapped, trying to get off me, but I held her in place.

"That's weird. I do this to my dog, and he loves it," I remarked casually. She fisted my collar, her grip strong, and pulled me closer with annoyance pooling in her eyes. My eyes flicked from her daring eyes to her hand on my collar. Her audacity was strangely attractive.

"Touch me again, and I'll chop off your fucking hand and shove it up until you're choking on it." she threatened, her voice dripping with venom. Her boldness both intrigued and infuriated me.

"First spilling coffee on my pants, and now tugging on my shirt," I retorted, forcefully pushing her away and standing up, adjusting my disheveled collar. We exchanged hateful glares, each trying to outdo the other in intensity.

"If you wanted me to take off my clothes, you could have just asked, detective," I teased.

"In your dreams, asshole," she retorted, storming off, but not before grabbing two gloriously glazed donuts from the breakfast table. Biting into one aggressively, she continued her dramatic exit. I eyed Mark and Christian, signaling them to follow her, and they complied.

"This is the best and most eventful breakfast I've had," Enzo chuckled, savoring a mouthwatering steak sandwich.

"No cap," Viktor added, his grin widening as he stabbed his fork into the stack of fluffy pancakes, dripping with a generous drizzle of maple syrup and crowned with a mountain of whipped cream. He looked almost like a human doing that when in reality, he was the most vicious bastard among us.

"For real," Hunter laughed, shaking his head in amusement, sipping from his favorite caravan tea.

"Wait. There is no way you guys slept together." Monti shook his head. With his hair gathered in a hair claw, he looked like a monk.

"Did she make you sleep on the floor, brother?" Enzo chuckled.

"You guys are having too much fun, aren't you?" I smirked, grabbing the fork from the table and twirling it around my fingers like a blade sniper. It was enough to make them straighten up and wipe off the lazy smirks on their stupid faces.

"The consigliere is here," Marcus informed, tapping his phone and hastily excusing himself from the breakfast table, sensing the storm brewing. Smart move, Marcus.

"You guys are lucky we have a meeting," I tossed the fork back on the table before leading the way to our conference room. The heavy doors swung open, and I strode toward my throne, settling into its commanding presence. It took a glance to signal everyone to take their seats, but Enzo, as audacious as ever, had already claimed his spot. I shot him a withering glare, to which he responded with a casual shrug and his usual remark, "Formalities can suck my dick, brother."