Page 116 of Hawthorne

I am cut off by his hand grabbing my neck. He doesn’t press on it, but I can see how shaky his hands are, how his nostrils keep flaring as his angry eyes roam my face. With a few calculated steps, he backs me against the wall, pressing his torso against mine.

“If you say nothing’s wrong, I’ll fuck you so hard, I’ll have you scream it out before you can even come.”

His eyes swirl with a thin layer of anger that’s only there to disguise the hurt. He’s hurting because of me.

But if I tell him the truth, he will only hurt more...No.I can’t.

I can’t understand it myself, what this unveiled truth means. I still haven’t gotten over the fact that everyone I ever cared for lied, but the only realisation I have come to is that I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it...not from him, not from the nobility or the Crown.

I never asked for anything, for any of this. All I wanted was to be able to love him freely and work my dream job, being a marine biologist. But it doesn’t matter which path I choose; it’s not possible to have it all.

That’s why deflecting is the best option. “If you’re that horny, just fuck me.”

In shock at my bluntness, Vincent tenses up while his mouth slackens. He has a good reason for it because in all the months we’ve been in thissecret-or-whatever-it-iskind of relationship—if it can ever be called a relationship—I never used the F-word unless he told me to.

It seems out of character becauseit is. But desperate situations require desperate measures.

Slowly, his grip on my neck slackens until his hand falls to his side, and he straightens his body, detaching from mine.

“I won’t do such a thing until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Nervously biting the inside of my cheek, I look away, giving it a quick thought. I could come clean, and the best-case scenario, he’d understand and be by my side.

Worst-case scenario? He’d feel betrayed and accuse me of using him as leverage…It would be the end of us.

I am not ready for that.

“Nothing that should concern you.” I end up saying.

And it’s true. Because I won’t do a thing about it. That information will be buried with me when I die.

No one else will know about it.

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

Deflect.Deflect.

How can I deflect this?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter.

“Little Milla,” he whispers, one of his hands caressing my cheekbone. “I can sense that something’s bothering you. Let me help you. I want you to be alright. I want you to be happy.”

Vincent’s words pierce through my chest. We’ve grown so close—much more than I’d ever considered possible. I’ve been so close to telling him how I truly feel so many times, but it would only make things harder for us.For me.

This gnawing feeling in my chest is telling me that now, more than ever, things will get ugly. It’s not a matter of ‘if’ but of ‘when’. I am dreading the future, whether it’s a near future or a distant one. And a small part of me regrets giving in to Vincent’s charm. But the other, the bigger one, still wouldn’t change a thing.

I’ve never felt as happy as I am in his arms.

A feeling this strong, this intense, I don’t think I’d ever let it grow for someone else.

“Happy?” A sarcastic chuckle escapes from my lips. “I will never be fully happy.”

With a sharp intake of breath, he asks, “Why not?”

Too much.It’s too much to keep inside.

Not being able to take the weight of all of this, I end up admitting more than I would like.

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