Trapped by the Devilish King

Prescott was lounging at the far end of the elevated dining terrace, about ten meters away, looking like he didn't have a care in the world.

The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting a soft glow around him. That sharp, dangerously handsome face of his looked even more striking in the light, as if it had been airbrushed for a shoot.

Compared to the cold and lethal aura she'd seen on him last night, this version of him felt a little more... human. Chill, even. Almost domestic.

Camila quietly observed him and thought, Okay, maybe he does seem kind of normal now.

Yeah. Normal. Like an actual person.

Which was a complete upgrade from last night when he came off more like some devil incarnate. The kind of dangerous that makes your lungs freeze up.

Camila didn't take a step forward. Her lashes fluttered as she cautiously asked, "So... where exactly am I? And last night, you..."

Passing out in the elevator for no apparent reason-her number one suspect? The man right in front of her.

She'd always been in top shape, hardly ever got sick, and with over a decade of horseback riding under her belt, fainting out of nowhere was just not in her script.

Seeing her hang back, Prescott closed the gap himself, walking toward her.

"This is my private estate," he said smoothly. "You fainted in the elevator last night. I brought you back. You should be thanking me, you know. If I hadn't stepped in, you'd probably be waking up somewhere nasty, crying your eyes out."

There was a casual edge to his tone, but that lazy confidence held a kind of swagger that made it impossible to ignore.

Camila's thoughts tensed. He clearly dodged her actual question-the precise location of the estate. He was deliberately vague. What was he hiding?

She instinctively stepped back a bit, keeping some space between them. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Even when she was skeptical, her voice was naturally soft and gentle. No edge could completely harden the graceful tone she was born with, making her sound slightly doubtful rather than confrontational.

Prescott leaned lazily against the railing, hands in his pockets, his intense gaze locked on her.

"You were drugged last night," he said calmly. "Don't tell me you didn't feel anything?"

She definitely felt it-didn't need anyone to tell her she'd been drugged. No way she'd just collapse out of the blue, not with how healthy she's always been.

But the real question was, who would drug her?

And this kind of sedative wasn't something just anyone could get their hands on, right?

Thinking about it, the only shady person who'd do something like that was that spoiled brat Jack.

But he shouldn't even know she was in Meridia, should he?

Camila's head was a mess. She looked up without thinking and-bam-locked eyes with Prescott's intense, probing stare.

Her heart skipped a beat. Before she could stop herself, the words just flew out. "Was it you? Did you drug me?"

The moment the question left her lips, Camila immediately regretted it. Seriously, of all the people to accuse, why him?

He clearly wasn't the type to have a good temper, and calling him out without proof? Not her smartest move-especially when she was still on his turf...

Before she could spiral further, a hand grabbed her chin, hard. She winced from the pain and shot the man a glare.

What the hell was wrong with this guy? Couldn't he just talk like a normal person? Why always gotta get physical? So annoying.

She was just about to slap his hand away when Prescott's voice came, low and cold-like someone turned the AC all the way down and it was running through her veins.

"Camila, don't flatter yourself. You really think you're that irresistible? You're not even close."

He let go right after that, turned around like he couldn't be bothered to waste another second on her.

Even just looking at his back gave her chills-he had this aloof, dangerous vibe, like a storm brewing right under the surface. Camila couldn't help but shiver.

This man was legit terrifying. When he got upset... yeah, definitely not someone you'd wanna mess with.

Wait, hold up. Did he just call her by her name?

That immediately set off alarms in her head. She didn't even care if he was still pissed-she rushed up to him, trying to catch up with his long strides and grabbed a fistful of his shirt in panic.

"...How do you know my name? Did you go through my stuff?"