Punished By My Best friend's Father I

THE heavy oak door creaked inward, a sound that always managed to feel louder in the hushed silence of Rhys’s study. Camille froze, her fingers inches from the leather-bound journal she’d been about to snatch from the bottom drawer of his imposing desk. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat like a burr.

“Looking for something, Camille?”

It wasn’t angry, not exactly, but it held a low, dangerous hum that sent a shiver down her spine. ...