Page 4 of Hawthorne

Fireworks.

My body is a wide range of adrenaline, causing the most outrageous feelings while my brain remains an empty piece of white paper—lost in time.

Oh my god.

His smirk widens, and he winks.Winks.

“I’m sorry. I know it was out of place, but—”

“No need. I heard the whole interaction, and if you wouldn’t have jumped in to defend my aunt…I would have,” he confesses. “But be careful with the way you talk with your superiors in the future. It can get you into dangerous situations.”

His voice is flat, but I swear I recognise a little bit of amusement in his tone. That makes me lift my eyes to look athim. Long gone is the cocky smirk, now replaced by a deviant smile.

Heat creeps down my neck towards my chest and is impossible to stop, making Vincent’s eyes lower, following its path.

Shit, what the hell is happening?

I needdistance. That’s why I point to the podium where the microphone is and nod for him to step up before I scurry away and lock myself in one of the many bathrooms of the manor.

For the remainder of the event, I keep myself away from the Hawthorne family and try to manage the memorial from the shadows, avoiding him.

When the last person finally leaves and I’m left alone, I sigh in relief.

I head to the memorial, where all the flower Crowns are gathered by her picture and bring a chair to sit by it.

I can finally mourn her like I want to. The tears fall and run down my cheeks as I stare at the smiling face centred within a wooden frame.

Her blonde hair is pulled back into her signature low bun. Her face is set in a serious expression, defining even more of her wrinkles. Here, in paint over canvas, she looks like those evil women in their formal portraits, even though she always used to be nice and kind to everyone around her.

As I stare back into the empty look of her bright blue eyes, I wonder what the hell is going to happen now that she’s gone.

I have no one else in this life, and this house is all I know, but I doubt the person receiving everything that was hers will want to keep me, too.

2

Vincent Hawthorne

Camilla White.

The girl that has been on my mind ever since I saw her at my aunt’s memorial. Gone was the quiet little ten-year-old with chubby cheeks. There’s a woman in her place now.

An outstandingly beautiful one.

Her cat-like eyes have only become more prominent with the years, showing off her Asian ancestry, which she seems to wear with pride, making her even more attractive.

I was enthralled by her brown irises perched upon her high cheekbones the moment they locked on mine. Like I had already been once before, when I first met her as a kid. Back then, I didn’t know what it was, not really understanding what was drawing me to her, but now, I know…The kindness, the innocence, and the authenticity in all her intentions.

Growing up, second intentions were present in all actions and interactions I have had, even from my parents. There were demands and expectations, “innocent” bribes I was always givento do as they pleased, then the manipulation or even threats. Nothing was made without a hidden purpose.

So, having those hours of nothing but free time to be a proper kid and have someone to play with, someone who genuinely only wanted me to pay attention to them and play…It quickly became the highlight of my days or weeks.

Seeing her again last night and realising she hasn’t lost her essence…it hit deep.

But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t changed. She has, a lot.

Camilla barely had any makeup on besides a light blush and nude lipstick. And yet, she’d given every woman in that property a run for their money—even Eleanor.

How a mere “peasant” girl, my aunt’s housekeeper, can have more class than my ex-girlfriend, a baroness at that, is something that still baffles me.

---