Without warning, Lambert reached out and clamped his hand over her mouth.
Her soft lips pressed directly against his warm palm. She froze, her eyes wide.
Lambert absolutely refused to hear those words. What did she mean, "it won't happen again"? He was entirely banking on it happening several more times in the near future.
"Stop talking nonsense," Lambert commanded softly. "Right now, your only job is to rest. Don't overthink anything. Recover, finalize your divorce, and we will deal with everything else later."
Unable to speak, Camilla just stared up at him and gave a slow, hesitant nod.
Satisfied, Lambert finally pulled his hand away.
It took her a moment to process everything before she finally asked, "So... when are you leaving?"
Lambert had already settled back into the chair by the bed, his attention shifting to the medical monitors. Without even looking back, he answered, "I'm not."
Panic instantly flooded her veins. "But we just agreed..."
"Who agreed?" Lambert shot back smoothly. "I told you to rest and recover. I never said I was leaving."
"This is really inappropriate..." she practically begged. "You said it yourself, I'm not divorced yet. How can I let you stay here as my private caregiver... I don't even have any clothes on..."
Her voice dropped to a humiliated whisper.
"It's not like I haven't seen you without clothes before," Lambert remarked coolly. Seeing her flush so violently she looked ready to melt into the floorboards, he decided to spare her. He knew he had a rather twisted sense of humor, but seeing her so thoroughly flustered gave him a distinct sense of satisfaction.
He smoothly shifted gears. "Didn't you say you wanted to hire a caregiver? I'm volunteering for the position."
"You?" Camilla’s embarrassment was instantly derailed by sheer shock.
"How am I any worse than a hired professional?" Lambert reasoned. "Plus, my rates are much lower."


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