The moment the front door creaked open, I knew we were in trouble.
Camilla stepped outside like she owned the entire world, her thick gold hoops reflecting in the sunlight as she posed in the doorway like a model on the runway.
She was flashy in the way only a Spanish city girl could be—tight crop top with the name of some designer stretched across her chest, bright red leather pants hugging her legs, and nails so long and sharp they could be classified as weapons.
Her hair was greased into a high ponytail, dark and glossy, well laid edges. She smelled like expensive perfume mixed with bubblegum, and the moment she saw Axel—her eyes went popped open, pupils dilating like a cat spotting prey.
Oh, please.
I made a poker face when Camilla threw herself forward, all but tripping over her platform heels as she beamed at him. "Dios mío… Axel?"