Trapped by the Devilish King
Chapter 8
The next morning.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow across the spacious white bed where a woman lay motionless.
Her long hair was spread out messily over the pillow. Under the warm light of dawn, her delicate, fair face seemed to shimmer with a golden hue. She looked calm and beautiful, with a touch of elegance.
Camila slowly opened her eyes, frowning slightly.
As soon as she saw the unfamiliar surroundings, she froze for a second. Where... was she?
The room was huge and tastefully decorated. Subtle greys blended with pale pinks, giving off a cozy, soothing vibe. Every little detail screamed luxury and deliberate design.
This definitely wasn't a hotel room. So where the hell was she?
Camila pressed her fingertips to her temples, trying hard to remember.
Right. Last night Kendall had called her out to catch a cheating boyfriend at a hotel. Then everything spiraled into one big messy misunderstanding, and somehow she'd crossed paths with a dangerously mysterious man.
She even remembered him pulling a gun on her in the elevator... and then? Her memory just blanked.
Did someone come to her rescue?
Or-horrifying thought-did that creepy man take advantage of her after she passed out?
Her heart jumped at the thought and she flung off the covers in a panic. When she saw that she was still wearing the same clothes from last night, she let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
Still, something didn't sit right. Not reassured, she quickly got off the bed and headed to the bathroom.
After checking herself over thoroughly, Camila finally relaxed for real. Nothing had happened. She was still unharmed.
She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face before stepping out. Just then, a knock came from the door, jolting her nerves again.
"Who is it?"
"Madam, sorry to disturb you. I'm the housemaid. I brought some clothes for you."
It was a woman's voice. Camila immediately felt less tense.
"The door's open. You can come in."
An older maid walked in, balancing a tray. On it were a brand-new dress and a full set of undergarments-all clearly designer and worth a small fortune.
"Madam, these are fresh clothes Mr. Ellington asked me to prepare for you. Please feel free to get cleaned up first. He'll be waiting to have breakfast with you."
Camila frowned. "Sorry, but... where exactly am I? And who is this 'Mr.' you're talking about? Do I know him?"
"This is Mr. Ellington's private estate. He's the owner here. It's getting late, Madam, you should freshen up first. Mr. Ellington doesn't like to wait."
Clearly, the maid wasn't planning on spilling anything else. Seeing that she wasn't getting any answers, Camila gave up and silently took the clothes.
She turned and stepped into the bathroom.
Inside, everything was laid out neatly-premium toiletries, warm towels, the works. After a quick shower and some grooming, she felt a lot more human.
Looking down at the outfit-a fitted Chanel suit that hugged her just right-she couldn't stop her mind from spinning. Who was this mystery man the maid kept referring to?
And how the hell did he know her size? Even the undergarments fit like a glove.
The thought made her skin crawl a little. She patted her cheeks, trying to shake off the unease before opening the bathroom door.
"Madam, this way please," the maid greeted her with a polite smile, motioning for her to follow.
"Wait," Camila called out before they started walking. "Did you happen to see a bag? Dark blue, about this big, crossbody style?"
She gestured with her hands to show the size.
That bag meant everything to her-phone, passport, license, wallet, ID cards, pretty much her entire life was in there. If she really was still in Meridia, losing that stuff would be a nightmare.
"Don't worry, ma'am. Mr. Ellington had someone take care of your belongings. Everything's untouched."
Camila let out a quiet breath. "Thank you."
The maid led the way, and she followed, taking in the extravagant interior with every step. The hallway was insane-expensive paintings on the walls, antique decor hanging from the ceiling, even the carpet underfoot looked handcrafted and stupidly expensive.
As she walked, her slender brows furrowed unconsciously.
Who exactly was this man?
Her mind flashed back to the night before-that dangerously charming guy she'd clashed with.
Could it... be him?
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