Camelia sat at one end of the massive mahogany dining table. Duke sat at the far opposite end. The silence in the dining room was thick and suffocating.

Hazel, the maid, stepped out of the shadows. She held a crystal decanter of aged red wine. She poured a generous amount into Duke's glass, then walked over and poured a smaller amount into Camelia's.

Matilda sat at the head of the table. She raised her own glass of water. "To the future of this family," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Camelia picked up her crystal glass. She took a small, polite sip of the dark red liquid.

As the wine coated her tongue, she tasted a very faint, bitter, herbal aftertaste. She frowned slightly, setting the glass down.

Duke wanted this dinner over with. He grabbed his glass, tilted his head back, and downed the entire half-glass of wine in one continuous swallow.

The rest of the meal was a symphony of silver forks scraping against porcelain plates. No one spoke.

Matilda wiped her mouth with a linen napkin. "I am tired," she announced. She pointed her cane at Duke. "You will sleep in the master suite with your wife tonight."

Duke yanked his tie loose with a violent tug. He stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, and marched toward the grand spiral staircase.

Camelia stood up silently and followed him up the stairs. They walked down the plush carpeted hallway and stepped into the luxurious master suite.

Click.

The heavy, carved wooden door shut behind them. The sound of the lock engaging echoed loudly in the quiet room.

Duke stopped. He turned around and grabbed the brass door handle. He pulled down hard.

The handle didn't budge. The door was locked from the outside.

Duke slammed his open palm against the thick wood. "Hazel!" he yelled into the hallway. "Open this door!"

There was no answer. Just the dead silence of the massive estate.

Duke turned away from the door. Suddenly, a strange, unnatural heat bloomed in the pit of his stomach. It rushed upward, setting his chest on fire.

He cursed under his breath. He ripped open the top two buttons of his dress shirt. His breathing grew heavy and ragged.

Camelia stood near the edge of the bed. Her cheeks suddenly felt flushed. A strange, rapid fluttering started in her chest, completely out of her control.

Duke's dark eyes widened slightly. Then, a look of pure, murderous realization washed over his face.

He closed the distance between them in three long strides, moving like a predatory cat.

He grabbed Camelia by both shoulders. He shoved her backward. Her spine hit the hard wooden doors of the walk-in closet with a loud thud.

"You drugged the wine," Duke snarled, his face inches from hers. "What exactly did you put in my glass? You and my grandmother really think you can corner me like this? You think you can just control my body and force my hand?"

Camelia's back ached from the impact. She shoved both her hands against his rock-hard chest, trying to push him away.

"I didn't know anything about the wine!" she gasped, her breath coming too fast.

Duke let out a cruel, breathless laugh. "You are a liar. You'll do anything for the money."

Camelia's temper finally snapped. She raised her right hand, aiming a hard slap right at his arrogant face.

Duke's reflexes were too fast. His hand shot up and caught her wrist mid-air. His grip was like iron.

He twisted her arm up and pinned both of her wrists flat against the closet door, high above her head.

Duke pressed his massive, overheated body completely against hers. The heavy scent of male pheromones, amplified by the drug in his veins, crashed over Camelia, trapping her entirely in his dangerous, suffocating shadow.

Duke's chest heaved against Camelia's. His breath was scorching hot, panting heavily against the sensitive skin of her neck.

He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder. He opened his mouth and bit down gently on her collarbone, his teeth scraping against her skin.

The chemical fire in Camelia's blood destroyed her defenses. A soft, involuntary gasp escaped her lips.

Duke's large hand slid down her waist. He grabbed her hip bone and forcefully pulled her pelvis flush against his.

There was no space left between them. Camelia could feel the hard, undeniable evidence of his physical arousal pressing into her stomach.

The drug was melting her brain. Her struggles turned into a weak, trembling grip on his shirt fabric.

Camelia squeezed her eyes shut. In the darkness of her mind, she forced herself to imagine the man holding her was Joseph. She needed it to be Joseph.

Duke lifted his head. He crashed his mouth down onto hers. It was a brutal, invasive, and deeply hungry kiss.

Driven by pure physiological instinct and the drug pumping through her heart, Camelia's lips parted. She kissed him back.

They were seconds away from crossing the point of no return.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Violent pounding on the bedroom door shattered the heavy, lust-filled air in the room.

"Duke!" Karly Morrow's shrill voice screamed through the thick wood. "Duke, open up!"

Karly kept banging. "Christabel just called! She's crying! She says her kidney is in agonizing pain!"

Duke's massive body froze instantly. It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.

He ripped his mouth away from Camelia's. He took a sharp step back, gasping for air.

The lust and drug-induced haze vanished from his eyes. It was replaced instantly by pure panic and crushing guilt.

Duke looked down at Camelia. Her face was flushed red, her lips swollen, her silk shirt wrinkled and pulled off her shoulder.

In the span of one second, the look in Duke's eyes shifted from burning desire to absolute, stomach-churning disgust.

He reached out and shoved her chest. It was a rough, dismissive push.

Camelia stumbled backward, her shoulder blades hitting the closet door again.

Duke turned his back to her. He roared at the door, "Karly! Go find the butler and get the master key right now!"

Ten seconds later, the metallic click of a key turning sounded in the lock. The door swung open.

Duke rapidly buttoned his shirt collar. His hands didn't shake at all.

He didn't look back. He didn't spare a single glance at the woman shivering in the corner of the room.

Duke sprinted out the door, his heavy footsteps chasing after Karly down the hallway until the sound completely disappeared.

Camelia's legs gave out. She slid slowly down the smooth wood of the closet door until she hit the floor.

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.

The drug was still burning in her veins, making her skin hot and sweaty. But inside her chest, a massive block of ice was forming.

She stared at the empty, open doorway. The physical ache in her heart stopped. It just went completely numb.

Camelia rested her chin on her knees. She closed her eyes, trying once again to summon Joseph's gentle smile to soothe the raw edges of her panic. But the image fractured. The lingering scent of Duke's cologne and the phantom pressure of his grip were too suffocating. The fantasy was failing her. In that cold, empty room, a crushing exhaustion washed over her. The painful illusion of using memories to survive the present was no longer working. The toll of enduring this toxic charade was finally outweighing the safety of her quiet compliance.