Dennis Williams narrowed his handsome, long-lashed eyes, his gaze fixed on Camila Davis.
Why was she asking this question out of the blue?
He had a feeling this wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment thought. Something must have happened while she was away from the party to spark such a doubt. Dennis had always been sharp when it came to reading people.
He casually pressed the button for the partition, sealing them in a soundproof cocoon. As silence enveloped them, he beckoned to her. “Camila, come here.”
She looked at him, a flicker of confusion in her eyes, but she obliged, sliding closer. “What is it?”
With an effortless movement, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her onto his lap.
“Nothing,” he said, his voice gentle yet laced with a persuasive, coaxing tone. “I just want to know where this question is coming from. Is it simple curiosity, or did something happen tonight that’s bothering you? Or is it something else entirely?”
His gaze was so warm that when she met it, she felt as if he could see right through her. She hesitated, seemingly trying to figure out how to begin.
Dennis continued, his voice a low murmur. “I believe there’s nothing we can’t talk about, don’t you agree?”
Camila looked at him in silence. His eyes, deep as the ocean, seemed to hold the moon’s soft glow, like a tranquil spring that could embrace everything and melt away all defenses. Faced with such a look, her worries and the walls she’d built around her heart began to crumble. A pang of regret hit her for even asking the question in such a probing way.


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