Page 29 of Hawthorne

Upon his lack of answer, I reckon I’m dismissed. Straightening, I turn and take a step when his cold voice stops me in my tracks.

“Where are you going?”

My back burns with the weight of his gaze on me. It is confirmed when I turn and see him glaring at me.

“I thought you didn’t need me anymore.”

“Why have you been avoiding me all day long, Camilla?”

“I–”

I’m interrupted by the scraping sound of his chair and watch as he rounds the desk and steps right in front of me.

He’s close.Too close.

“I asked you a question.” His tone is low but demanding.

A small part of me wants to dash out of the door and avoid him for the rest of my life, but the other part, the biggest one is basking in the proximity. Enjoying the shivers he causes and the somersaults my stomach does.

His dominance has a weird effect on my body, but it’soh-so addicting.

“I was busy,” I stammer out.

He arches an eyebrow and takes a step closer to me. In response, I take one back to keep the same distance between us. The duke doesn’t move closer this time around, but the way his jaw tenses shows me how unhappy he is today.

“You ran out of every division I stepped in today. It seemed more like running away from me than being busy.”

He’s not wrong, but am I going to admit it?No.

“I am sorry, Your Grace. I wasn’t aware that you needed me today.”

“Do not play coy with me, Camilla.” His jaw locks tightly for a second time before he continues, “That type of attitude does not sit well with me at all.”

I am about to answer when he takes one step forward again. He looks intimidating, even if fear is the last emotion in my brain right now. In response, my body moves backwards again, just because there’s a little part of me still clinging to the professional boundaries.

But as I move, he continues doing the same, and we quickly enter this tango of the chase until I am cornered when my back hits the cool wooden doorway of the office.

Bloody hell.

Vincent Hawthorne smirks triumphantly and takes that step he so wanted, his body temperature oozing off and rubbing onto me. My chest heaves with the realisation of the proximity and the predicament he’s put us in—once again.

This is exactly what I was trying to avoid, and by the mischievous glint in his eyes, he’s quite aware of that.

“I- I’m sorry,” I stutter.

“You’re not,” he goads. One of his hands rises to find the door behind me, firmly splaying it against it at my head’s level.

“Your Grace–” I start but am cut off by him.

“What, Camilla?”

“We shouldn’t–”

“We shouldn’t what?” His breath hits my face as his head comes impossibly closer, leaving just a few millimetres between us.

“I-”

“You know,” he whispers breathily. “I didn’t sleep a wink.”

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