Page 93 of Hawthorne

“Why did you take so long?” Oscar huffs, moving to the side to get some space for me to sit.I won’t sit.“You didn’t even get here in time to say goodbye to Cami!”

I grit my teeth. Their nickname for her is ridiculous. It doesn’t even suit her. She’s too beautiful and gracious for such a plain nickname.

“Well, too bad.” I feign indifference. “I need to go, too. There was a situation with the vineyards,” I lie. “I need to go back and solve it first thing in the morning, quite early.”

“Always the fun one,” Oscar grumbles, annoyed.

“Well, some of us have responsibilities, Oz. You might need to try it one of these days.”

Charlie and Rachel chuckle before saying goodbye formally. Oscar, on the other hand, stands up and gives me a tight hug.

“Keep in touch, asshole. I miss you,” he murmurs.

I do, too.He might have been one of the few people I have always—and still do—considered a friend.

“I’ll do my best,” I promise before leaving.

It goes without saying I don’t even look back and rush to the hotel.

The lift doors ping, and I get out quickly, fast-walking down the long hall. I see Camilla’s silhouette before she notices me, and I slow down a little, taking her in.

Head hanging low, she’s rummaging through her bag, trying to find something and cursing under her breath. This is a new one. I have rarely seen Camilla curse or say bad words.

Did I fuck up that bad?

“Damn him for getting me into a hotel I can’t even afford.Argh!”Her tone is curt and bitter. “Ha,” she exclaims as soon as she finds what she was looking for—the keycard.

She opens the door and gets in, giving me the window I need to rush to the door and wedge my foot between the door and the frame right before she can shut it.

“What in the–” She jumps back, startled, but relaxes right after seeing it’s me. “What are you doing here?”

“Do you think I see you as a whore?” I blurt, shutting the door behind me.

She rolls her eyes, and it irks me. “Vincent, I am tired an–”

“I don’t fucking care,” I growl, getting into her personal space.

Camilla’s eyes widen, and she takes a few steps back. I stalk her, forcing her to walk back until her legs hit the bed, and she falls on it on her ass.Perfect. I loom over her, bending down to bring our faces closer—so close I can feel her breath hitting my face.

“Let’s get a few things straight. Shall we?”

My hand touches her arm, caressing her skin upwards to her shoulder until it finds the side of her neck. Her skin is smooth on my fingers, and I can’t help but spread them and caress as much of it as I can, especially her jawline.

She’s stunning—beautiful inside-out. It’s a shame she’s the only one who doesn’t see it.

“When I look at you, I see someone strong and fierce.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I shush her by placing my thumb over her lips. “Even though you have no close relatives left, you still look forward to what the future may bring you. You keep living by giving yourself a purpose. You’ve worked hard all your life. And I know you’ve been doing that since we were kids because I still remember all of the times you had to stop playing when it was time to go help your mother. Not to mention, you graduated the top of your class in biology. You keep that goddamned manor in check. Nothing is ever out of place, no speck of dust to be seen, all animals are taken care of, there is no employee drama, and you can even fucking cook. What can’t you do?”

I look into her eyes and pause, not because I expect her to answer but because I want all that has been said to be processed by her brain. Except, instead of seeing the pride over being recognised for what she is, I see pain glazing them over.

“Vincent,” she whispers, tipping her head down.

Fuck no.

“I am not done.” I grip her jaw tighter, pulling her even closer, bumping our noses together and forcing her to look at me. “You stand up to me and don’t concede to my every whim. You’re kind to others, you’re gracious even when people are being nasty to you.A whore?” I chuckle sarcastically. “Oh, love, you’re wife material. Far too superior to so many women out there...And I am sorry.I know my actions are far too impulsive and confusing…This is new for me, and as much as it pains me not to be able to do things in a better way, I still can’t let you go.”

Her shaky breath hits my face, and I repeat slowly—pointedly—“I just fucking.Can’t. Let. You. Go.”

Our lips connect even before we can register. It’s innate by now. Our bodies recognise each other and thrive being bundled together. Like an invisible force that allows them to identify each other, this magnet between us keeps bringing us back into each other’s arms asif we’remeant to be.

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