Chapter 96
Camila POV
I shook my head like that would somehow clear the thoughts away, and made my way to the laundry room. It was this tiny, oddly warm space tucked near the back of the house, probably forgotten by most of the staff.
I kicked the door open gently with my Toot and stepped inside.
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The air smelled like detergent and clean linen, thank God. It was a safe zone. No suspicious smells. Just peace and the quiet hum of the dryer still spinning from someone else’s load.
I set the basket down and started loading the “safe” clothes into the washer, cranking the dial and adding detergent like a woman on a mission.
As for the other bag? That would be dealt with later. Maybe I’d burn it in the yard and call it a ritual.
When the washer started rumbling to life, I just stood there for a second, hands on my hips, staring at the machine.
Somehow, laundry had never felt so personal. Like I’d just wiped a slate clean. Or tried to. Because even with the clothes separated and the gross stuff zipped away, I couldn’t ignore the twist in my gut. The nagging feeling that something was off.
Someone had gone through my clothes.
Someone had touched my stuff.
And that someone might still be in this house.
Still in a bit of a haze, I stood in the laundry room, arms crossed as the washer thudded to life like it was struggling with the weight of my anxiety. My thoughts were spiraling–someone had definitely been in my room. Not just passing through. They had touched my clothes. Done
God knows what to them.
And they might still be here.
Under this same roof.
Was it one of the staffs?
I stared at the spinning machine, jaw clenched. My skin crawled a little, like the feeling you get when someone’s watching you. I hated it. Hated the vulnerability of it. Hated that I couldn’t shake the thought of how long it had been happening. Days? Weeks?
Then-
A hand landed on my shoulder.
I jumped like the damn machine shocked me, My heart slammed into my chest as I spun around and-“Jesus Christ, Ethan!
He blinked, eyes wide. “Sorry,” he said quickly, holding his hands up like I had a weapon in mine. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“Don’t sneak up on people, psycho!” I snapped, one hand pressed to my chest like that’d settle my racing heart. “Fuck!”
He looked sheepish, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. My bad. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I felt them/ hit my brain. He had that dumb look on his face again–the soft, ‘I–didn’t–know–I–was–doing–anything- wrong” expression he always wore. The one that made it hard to stay mad at him.
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Chapter 96
“Anyway, he said, shifting his gaze to the laundry I was working on. “What’re you doing?”
I gave him a slow, flat look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
He blinked again, glanced at the washer, then nodded like he finally put the dots together. “Oh. Laundry,*
No shit, Sherlock.
I turned back to the machine, adjusting the settings while he loitered behind me like a lost puppy. Silence stretched between us for a moment before I said, without really meaning to, “There were… some stains on my clothes.”
Ethan leaned a little closer, eyebrows lifting. “Stains?”
“Yeah,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral.
“What kind of stains?” he asked, leaning in further, his voice low and teasing. And then, God help me, he grinned.
That grin.
It was stupid and crooked and soft and a little too easy. Like everything in the world was a joke to him. He had no idea how seriously not- funny this was.
I turned to face him. “Why are you smiling like that?”
He blinked innocently, but the blush creeping up his neck gave him away. “I didn’t say anything-”
“There, I pointed out, stepping back and shoving his chest lightly to put some space between us. “You’re doing it again. That thing where you smile at everything like it’s funny.”
He held his hands up again but was still smiling. “I was just asking-”
“None of your damn business,” I cut him off, pointing at the door. “Go away. Don’t you have brooding to do somewhere?”
He laughed.
Laughed!
Like this was a bonding moment. Like I was saying something cute.
“Okay, okay,” he said, backing toward the door with his hands still raised. “Didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”
“You touched more than a nerve, jackass.”
He disappeared around the corner, and I turned back to the washer, muttering under my breath.
The room was quiet again, but the tension still hung heavy in the air. Not from Ethan–though he was exhausting–but from the whole weirdness of everything. Like how the hell was I supposed to do laundry normally again? How was I supposed to wear any of my stuff without wondering who had handled it?
I sighed, leaning on the edge of the counter, eyes scanning the little laundry room like it held answers.
It didn’t.
I had finished sorting everything, tossed what I couldn’t salvage, and started a new load. But there was still that itch in my brain.
My eyes drifted toward the hallway Ethan had just vanished into.
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Chapter 96
There was something about the way he looked when I said “stain.”
He smiled. But that blush…
That wasn’t innocent.
And the way he’d asked–like he was already imagining what kind of stain I meant–yeah, it rubbed me the wrong way. Or the right way? Ugh. I didn’t even know anymore.
I shook the thoughts out of my head and rubbed my temple.
“I’m losing it,” I mumbled to the laundry detergent.
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