Page 88 of Hawthorne

“Nice to meet you.” Rachel blushes, extending her hand to shake his.

Except when he takes it he twists and kisses it instead. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at all their gentlemanly moves. He mumbles a, “you too” and directs his eyes to me.

“Nice to meet you.” I mimic Rachel’s antics.

Oscar repeats the same gesture when I extend my hand for a shake, twisting it and kissing the top of it.

“Which one of you is Cami, and which one is Rachel?” Before I can answer, Rachel identifies herself, and I just nod in agreement.

I mean, it’s just two of us. If she’s Rachel, it’s pretty obvious who Cami is.

“Charlie,” Oscar calls for his brother's attention. “Did you mention your ex-girlfriend would attend tonight? Which one is she?”

I gulp and look at Rachel nervously. She cringes when our eyes lock and intertwines her hand in mine for reassurance.

“Yeah,” Charlie answers. “It’s Cami.”

Oscar’s face swivels towards mine in surprise.

“Well, well, well.” He smiles, or rather, smirks. “I guess my brother does have good taste in women, after all.”

“Uhm, I am sorry to break it to you.” I laugh awkwardly. “We broke up several years ago.”

“Is that so? Because he sure still talks about you often.”

I am about to answer, dismissing the situation, when an unexpectedly familiar voice stops me. “Sorry, I had to take that call.”

I know who it is before I even see him. There’s no way I wouldn’t recognise the voice that has made my knees buckle and my heart speed up more times than any other man has in my entire life.

“What did I miss?”

Oscar smirks up at the person behind me and says, “Just in time, Vincent. I’m getting to know the woman who stole my brother’s heart all those years ago.”

“Oh, great,” he mutters behind me with faux excitement.

I’ve gotten to know him enough to know when there’s an underlying tone of boredom or annoyance. And at this exact moment, it has both.

“Don’t be a grumpy old bastard. Sit here and meet Cami.”

The whoosh of air I feel on my right side tells me he moves towards Oscar’s side with his back still facing me. He turns around and sits down without caring about greeting anyone, and it only intensifies the nervousness growing inside me.

He gave me two days off. I was supposed to have distance for a bit, unwind and have some fun.

What the hell is he doing here?

Once sitting, he straightens his back and starts surveilling the surroundings. Handsome as always but even more so dressed to the nines with formal attire. His white button-up is slightly wrinkled around the collar areas and the bow is undone, showing me how finished he looks with the whole outfit—and night for that matter.

His eyes stop the exact moment they land on me. They narrow and a dark shadow covers them. For a moment, I swear I can see a storm brewing inside his mind.

“Vincent,” he greets everyone without looking away from me. “The Duke of Hawthorne.”

I hate cursing, but all I can think of is...Fuck.

26

Camilla White

The intensity of his glare prevents me from moving or even uttering a word. It pierces right through my soul, the surprise and suspiciousness. But I should be the one doubting his presence here.

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