Chapter 51
Chapter 51
Camille turned to face him, found his eyes glinting with something that might have been admiration, might have been challenge, might have been something deeper neither of them was prepared to name.
“The phoenix only rises through fire, Mr. Pierce,” she replied quietly. “And fire is a dangerous element to play with.”
His smile deepened, genuine amusement replacing careful social masks. “I’ve never feared burns, Ms. Kane. The most valuable things in life are often forged in flame.”
Someone called for a photograph. The museum director, sensing promotional gold, encouraged them to stand together. Alexander placed his hand lightly at the small of her back, the gesture both possessive and protective.
Flashes erupted around them. Tomorrow these images would appear in every social publication, generating exactly the kind of attention Victoria had warned against. Speculation. Interest. Questions about the relationship between two of the world’s most powerful young billionaires.
“You planned this,” Camille accused under her breath, maintaining her public smile.
“I seized an opportunity,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Victoria won’t be pleased.”
“Victoria isn’t here.” His fingers pressed slightly against her back, surprisingly warm through the thin fabric of her gown. “And it’s time you made decisions without her shadow over you.”
The presumption should have angered her. Instead, something rebellious stirred inside her, the first independent choice since accepting Victoria’s offer of transformation and revenge. Not a strategic business move. Not a calculated step toward destroying Rose and Stefan. Just a moment of genuine connection with someone who seemed to see through all her carefully constructed layers.
She smiled at him, not Victoria’s practiced social expression, but something real. Something that belonged to her alone.
Camille recognized the trap. Refuse, and appear cold, ungracious, dampening the philanthropic spirit of the evening. Accept, and create exactly the kind of public speculation Victoria had carefully avoided around her adopted heir.
“The children,” she repeated, finding her answer. “How could I refuse such a worthy cause?”
She turned slightly, presenting her back to him in silent permission. Alexander removed the necklace from its box and stepped behind her. The crowd fell into breathless silence.
His fingers brushed the nape of her neck as he positioned the necklace, the touch sending an unexpected shiver down her spine. The weight of diamonds settled against her skin, cool at first, then warming. His hands lingered perhaps a moment longer than necessary, his breath close enough that she felt its warmth against her ear.
“The phoenix rises,” he whispered, words meant only for her. “And looks more magnificent with each transformation.”
The watching crowd stirred in response, For months they had observed the Kane heiress at various events, always perfect, always controlled, always slightly unreachable. This smile transformed her from beautiful statue to living woman, the change subtle but unmistakable.
More photos captured the moment. More speculative glances exchanged between witnesses. More messages
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Chapter 51
discreetly sent from the event, spreading news of what was unfolding.
Alexander’s expression softened in response, his own mask slipping to reveal something unexpected, tenderness beneath the power, warmth beneath the controlled exterior For a brief moment, they weren’t two strategic players in a complex game of revenge and alliance, but simply a man and woman connected by something neither had planned..
Then the spell broke as the museum director approached, effusive with gratitude for Alexander’s donation. Camille used the interruption to step away, one hand rising unconsciously to touch the fortune now adorning her throat.
For the remainder of the evening, they circled each other like planets in separate but intersecting orbits. Never directly engaging again, but always aware of the other’s location. Always feeling the pull of connection neither had anticipated.
Near midnight, as the event wound down, Camille’s security team approached to escort her to her waiting car. She reached back to unfasten the necklace, intending to return.
Alexander materialized at her side. “Keep it tonight. My security will coordinate with yours for its return tomorrow.”
“I couldn’t possibly…”
“You can and you will.” His voice carried no arrogance, just calm certainty. “It looks like it was made for you.”
Before she could protest further, he leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear. “Besides, little phoenix, what better way to celebrate your victory today? While you dazzled in diamonds, your sister lost her last financial lifeline. Your plan succeeded perfectly.”
Camille froze, shock replacing composure. How did he know? How did he always know?
“Don’t look so alarmed,” he continued softly. “Your secrets remain safe with me.”
“What do you want?” she whispered. “Why are you doing this?”
He stepped back, his public mask returning seamlessly. “That’s a conversation for another time. Good night, Ms. Kane. You’ve made a dull charity event unexpectedly memorable.”
With a slight bow that managed to be both formal and intimate, he walked away, leaving her standing with a hundred million dollars around her neck and questions burning in her mind.
In her car, Camille studied her reflection in the privacy screen, the elegant gown, the perfect makeup, the necklace that outshone everything else. But it was her eyes that held her attention, something awakening in them that had been absent for too long. Something that belonged to her, not to Victoria’s careful creation.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming message. Alexander, she thought with unexpected anticipation.
But it was Victoria’s name that appeared on the screen: *What have you done? The photos are already online. Call me immediately.*
Camille touched the diamonds at her throat, remembering Alexander’s fingers against her skin, his whispered words in her ear. For the first time since agreeing to Victoria’s plan, since burying Camille Lewis and becoming Camille Kane, she felt something beyond the cold satisfaction of revenge:
She closed the message without responding.
Victoria could wait until morning.
