Chapter go
Camille wasn’t red. “So you’re not into tole gras. Got it. They also serve nice steak. Maybe you’ll like that.”
“Ell passion that too. I don’t eat steak,” Demand added.
Hera glanced at him. They just had steak for breakfast together this morning, hadn’t they?
Camill–understood the message from them exchanging glances. It wasn’t that Bernard didn’t eat those things, he simply didn’t want to.
“Alright then. Let’s head to the lounge. I’ll give you a check–up,” Camille sabil, grabbing the nearby medical kii.
The lounge she mentioned was the same small room Hera had gone to earlier to fetch a chair. It had everything–a bed, acouch, even a
It was hard to tell if they were going for a check–up or something else entirely.
Bernard couldn’t be that clueless, could he?
But to her surprise, Bernard stood up and followed Camille into the lounge.
Hera was flustered. S was right! Men were all alike!
bathroom. It was qui
was quite the deluxe lounge.
When they got in the lounge, Camille shut the door before turning to Bernard. As she gazed fondly at his tall figure, her heart fluttered, and she felt a strong urge to bug him.
“Why did Chad send you?” Bernard turned around, his cold demeanor sobering Camille instantly.
“He mentioned you were feeling off and asked me to check on you,” she responded. In truth, Chad suspected Bernard might be seriously ill and tasked her with investigating.
“Is that so? Then tell Chad I’m sorry to have disappointed him. I’m perfectly fine,” Bernard said. His illness was a secret. It would be disastrous if the Killian family were to find out about it.
Camille’s expression stiffened. Bernard made it crystal clear he didn’t need her examination. So, he came in here just to make that clear?
As Bernard moved to leave, Camille blocked his path. “You’re into her, aren’t you?”
Bernard looked at her in surprise. If even outsiders could see his feelings for Hera, why couldn’t Hera berselt see it?
Camille’s heart skipped a beat at his gaze. But it also confirmed Bernard’s genuine affection for Hera
“Tcan help you win her over,” she offered again.
“What’s the catch? Bernard asked.
“You!” Camille thought.
She maintained a smile and said, “Nothing, I don’t need anything from you. We’re friends, and if you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“Let’s not have these talks in the future.” Bernard sidestepped
Camille was stunned. “Why?”
“I don’t like pick–me girls,” Bemard said, opening the door and leaving
Camille stood there in disbelief, her cheeks flushing red as if she’d been slapped twice. Bernard’s labeling of her as a pick–megle shattered her meticulously crafted image as on of Norburgh’s elite.