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“You saw me but didn’t say hello? I’m wounded, Miss Antonius.”
The gown had mysteriously shown up two hours before Synton’s ball, along with a matching silver filigree mask. No note accompanied the package, but a beautiful new paintbrush was nestled on top of the dress.
Camilla might not be royalty, but he’d wanted to see her look like a princess tonight, unmatched in dignity, in grace.
Envy pictured her silver hair, then thought about winding it slowly around his fist, angling her face up to his.
“Some games should not be played unless you’re certain you can win.” He ran a finger along the edge of her ear, gently settling her hair back into place. “Stoke my sin again and I will show you what it means to lose, Miss Antonius.”
“I imagine that will be very hard for you, my lord.” Camilla’s gaze slowly dropped to his trousers before she flicked it back up, mischief glittering in her silver eyes. His cock jerked in response, eager to draw her attention again. “Since it appears that you’ll have your hands full thinking, I really must get to work.”
“If you run, I will chase you.”
“If you ever put your will above my own,” she said, her voice lowered but laced with the promise of vengeance, “you will regret it, Envy.”
