LOGINTwo years after a devastating accident left her husband Vincent unable to fulfill her intimate needs, Camille Rowan Jasper finds herself trapped in a sexless marriage. When Vincent's two best friends arrive for an unknown visit, he makes an unthinkable proposition He said he wants them to satisfy his wife since he cannot. Shocked but tempted, Camille surrenders to desire with both men, only to discover nothing is what it seems. Vincent has been hiding his recovery, Kieran harbors dangerous obsessions, and Nikolai isn't even Vincent's friend but his vengeful half-brother. They all have their bad agenda against Camille, and one at a time, Karma breeze will blow and their Ass will open…. But the question is, wouldn't it be too late for our dear Camille.
View MoreCamille's POVShe left as dramatically as she'd arrived, leaving destruction in her wake. Nikolai and I stood in silence, both processing what had just happened."Is it true?" I finally asked after almost 2 minutes. "About her affair?""Yes." He sank back into his chair. "I came home early from a business trip and found them together. We fought, I left. That was six months ago.""Why didn't you tell me you were married?" The betrayal felt layered now. Vincent, Kieran, and now Nikolai, all keeping secrets."Because it's complicated." He looked up at me, his expression tortured. "Rachel and I, we weren't some love story. Our marriage was arranged by our families for business purposes. I thought I could make it work, but she never loved me. And I never loved her.""That doesn't excuse lying to me." I moved toward the door, needing space."Wait." Nikolai grabbed my wrist. "There's more you need to know. About why I'm really here. About my connection to Vincent.""I don't want to hear it."
Camille's POV"We need a plan."Kieran's words from yesterday still echoed in my mind as I sat at breakfast the next morning. Vincent had left early for a "business meeting," which probably meant he was with Jessica. The thought made my coffee taste bitter.Nikolai appeared in the dining room, looking tired. "Morning.""Morning." I kept my voice neutral. After what I'd overheard about Vincent's true feelings toward his "friends," I wasn't sure who to trust anymore."Can we talk?" He poured himself coffee and sat across from me. "Privately?""About what?""About why I'm really here." He glanced toward the hallway, checking we were alone. "There's something you need to know about Vincent and me."Before he could continue, the doorbell rang. We both looked toward the entrance, confused. Vincent had a key. Kieran was still upstairs. Who would be visiting at nine in the morning?Maria, our housekeeper, appeared in the dining room doorway. "Mrs. Jasper, there's a woman here asking for Mr. R
Camille's POVKieran lifted me onto the desk, papers scattering as he positioned himself between my thighs. His hands slid under my dress while mine worked at his belt. This was insane, doing this in Vincent's study, but maybe that was the point. Maybe I was finally taking control of something in this mess."Camille." Kieran broke the kiss, breathing hard. "Are you sure?""Shut up." I pulled him back down, tired of talking, tired of thinking.His hands were everywhere, and I arched into his touch. We were seconds from going too far when voices echoed from the hallway. Kieran froze, his eyes meeting mine in panic."—just need to grab something from the study." Vincent's voice, getting closer.We scrambled off the desk. Kieran shoved papers back into drawers while I straightened my dress and tried to look casual. There was a coat closet in the corner of the study. I grabbed Kieran's hand and pulled him inside just as the door handle turned.The closet was tiny, barely enough room for bo
Camille's POVI returned to the penthouse three hours later, calmer but no less confused. Vincent was out, according to the housekeeper. Perfect. I needed answers, and I wasn't above snooping to find them.His study door was unlocked, surprisingly. Vincent usually kept it secured, especially lately. I slipped inside and closed the door behind me, my heart racing with equal parts guilt and determination.Medical records. That's what I needed. Proof of when his recovery actually started, what the doctors really said about his prognosis. The filing cabinet was locked, naturally. But his desk drawers weren't.I rifled through papers, trying to distinguish relevant documents from business contracts. Most of it was company related, boring financial projections and acquisition proposals. Nothing about his health, nothing about physical therapy schedules.Then I found his calendar. A leather-bound planner, the kind Vincent insisted on using despite having a digital calendar on his phone. Old






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