Page 65 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

“Willow? You awake?”

Before I can answer, the door cracks open, and Vincent steps inside, holding two steaming cups of coffee. His hair is a littlemessy, and he’s still in the same clothes from last night, but his smile is warm and disarming.

“Thought you could use this,” he says, holding out a mug. “Before you meet the parents.”

I take the cup from him, the warmth seeping into my hands, and nod. “Thanks.”

He sits down on the edge of the bed, his movements slow and careful, like he’s afraid of overwhelming me. The silence stretches between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s... tentative.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asks after a moment, his voice quiet.

I shake my head, staring down into the coffee. “Not really. You?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Not a chance.”

We both sit there for a while, not saying much, just sipping our coffee. A small chuckle escaping both of our lips.

“I can’t stand thinking you’re mad at me, Princess.”

I look at him over the rim of my mug, his words hanging in the air between us. There’s a vulnerability in his tone, a crack in his usual confidence. Vincent rarely shows cracks.

“I’m not mad at you,” I say softly.

He exhales, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Good. Because I don’t think I could take another week of you not talking to me.”

My stomach twists at the honesty in his words. Vincent is always so sure of himself, so steady and put together. To see him faltering, even slightly, makes me want to reach out and hold on to him.

Vincent clears his throat. “Breakfast,” he says, his tone shifting to something lighter, though his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s going to be... an experience.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“Let’s just say my family is old money. Stuffy. Judgmental. They’ll be polite on the surface, but every word is a chess move, every glance a silent critique. They’re like snakes wearing pearls and tailored suits.”

I frown. “And you’re okay with me being there?”

His expression softens, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing mine where they rest on the mug. “No, but I don’t have a choice.” My stomach sinks and I look down into the light brown shimmer of the coffee.

He lifts my chin softly. “It’s not you. It is never you, but they-” He swallows. “They steal everything good in the world and rot it. I don’t want them to do that to you. You’re too good Willow.”

My name on his tongue makes me whimper, and he kisses my cheek softly. I melt, my eyelids heavy as I stare up at him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he growls. “We don’t have time.”

“Sorry sir,” I purr.

“Willow.” He snarls, and I shoot up straight, an innocent smile on my face.

“Sorry!”

Vincent shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the lingering tension in his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Better than boring,” I quip, taking another sip of my coffee. The warmth of it does little to settle the unease swirling in my chest.

His smile fades, replaced by something more serious as he leans back slightly, watching me. “Willow, I need you to be prepared for this. My family isn’t like yours or Cast’s. They’re… different. Old money, stuck in their ways. Everything they do, everything they say, is calculated. Everything they do is to get under your skin.”

I take another sip of my coffee, hoping it will ease the gnawing feeling in my stomach as I nod my understanding. “Vincent,” I say softly, breaking the quiet. “I can do this. Give me spark notes on everyone.”

“My father?” He scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “My father will be distant. He might not even talk, because he's a stranger to me. He only really speaks up when he wants something.”

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