Charles Lesnar's gaze didn't leave Merlina. He simply studied her face like she was under a microscope.
Every inch of her.
Every twitch, every breath. She felt laid bare, stripped to the bone, exposed in a way only Charles Lesnar could manage with a single look.
Her throat tightened.
The air felt heavier.
Hotter.
"Miss Sanchez," he finally said. His voice was low and guarded. "You're a tough girl. I never thought it would be this difficult to get rid of you."
Merlina's mouth parted, blinking once. She couldn't tell if that was dark humor or another insult. With Charles Lesnar, it was impossible to guess. The man spoke without giving a single expression away.
She tried to say something, but nothing formed. Her mind went blank.
Charles didn't wait. His attention cut away from her instantly, as if she no longer existed.
It went straight to Cameron.
"Hello, little man," Charles said, his tone dropping into something surprisingly low and warm. "Come here."
