They all turned.

Lucien stood in the doorway, hair shiny and slicked back, a fresh black shirt clinging to his shoulders. But there was nothing clean about the fury radiating from him.

"Get. Away. From. Her."

Don turned slowly. "Oh, son. I was-"

"I know exactly what you were doing." Lucien crossed the room in three strides, planting himself between Don and my bed. "And I'll say this once. Stay away from Camila. Don't talk to her. Don't look at her. Don't even think about her."

"I'm trying ...