Under The Hawthornes Roof
Country: Aurivelle
City: Auremont
Alvara
Mrs. Hawthorne showed me the house and she walked me through corridors I hadn't seen at dinner.
The east wing is lined with photographs that spanned decades.
The Hawthorne family across generations.
She stopped at certain ones.
Pointed.
She told me some things.
A photograph of Mr Dominic at thirty younger, harder.
"He built the first acquisition with borrowed money," she said. "His family thought he was foolish."
"Clearly they were wrong," I said.
"Clearly," she said.
Another photograph,Julian at maybe sixteen or seventeen charismatic even then, arm around someone, grinning at something off-camera.
"Julian has always been easy," she said. "Everything came naturally. He never had to fight for anything." She paused. "Which is both his gift and his problem."
Then …
Grayson.
Younger.
Fourteen perhaps.
Standing slightly apart from the rest of a group photograph.
Not isolated.
Just … separate.
Already the composed version.
At fourteen.
“ Was he always like that ”? I asked quietly.
Mrs. Hawthorne looked at the photograph.
"Since he was very small," she said. "He decided early that feeling things loudly was inefficient."
"He carries things quietly," I said.
"Too quietly," she said.
We moved on.
Her sitting room was in the private wing.
Away from the formal rooms.
More personal.
Softer.
We sat down and she poured tea.
"The world thinks he is invincible," she said.
"He built that impression deliberately," she said. "Since he was young. The certainty. The composure. The way he moves ." She looked at me. "None of it is false. But it is not complete."
I waited.
"He forgets things," she said.
"Not professionally," she said quickly. "Never professionally.
But personally the small things. His own birthday.
To eat when he is deep in something. That the world does not stop when he does.
" She paused. "He once worked for eleven days without leaving the Technology floor.
No one told me. I found out because Vivienne called to ask if I had spoken to him. "
Eleven days.
"He does not ask for help," she said. "He considers it a failure of preparation."
"I know," I said.
She looked at me.
"Yes," she said. "I think you do."
She set her cup down.
"He has run this empire since he was twenty four years old," she said.
"Not because his father asked him to. Because Grayson decided it was his responsibility and he does not put down responsibilities once he picks them up.
" She held my gaze. "He has never once …
not once …sat at that dining table and talked about something he wanted for himself. "
"Until tonight," she said.
"He introduced you," she said. "As his." A pause. "Do you understand what that means for someone like Grayson?"
"Yes," I said quietly.
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she leaned forward slightly.
“ There's something I need you to know, ” she said.
"He is not as strong as the world believes," she said. "He is strong. Genuinely. But he is also a man who has spent his entire adult life being what everyone needed him to be. The empire. The heir. he has never had someone whose only job was to see him."
I felt something move through my chest.
"You see him," she said. "I could see it from the showcase. The way he looked at you was already different from how he looked at anything else." She paused. "And the way you spoke to him, not to Grayson Hawthorne. To him."
I looked at my hands.
"I want to thank you," she said.
I looked up.
"For finding him worthy of loving," she said. "For not being frightened by what he is. For pushing back when he needed it and staying when it would have been easier to leave." She held my gaze. "And I want to ask you something."
"Please go on”
"Take care of him," she said.
"Not in the way the world takes care of powerful men," she said. "Not in the way that manages them or accommodates them." She paused. "In the way that makes him remember he is also allowed to be human."
"He forgets that," she said. "He needs someone to remind him."
I thought about the way he carried things until they became impossible not to put down.
"I will," I said.
She looked at me for a long time then nodded.
"Thank you," she said.
She reached forward.
Covered my hand with hers.
Then she stood up.
"Come," she said. "They'll be wondering where we are"
I expected the main sitting room to be empty
It was not.
Grayson was on the sofa.
Mr Dominic in the armchair across from him.
Julian stretched along the other sofa in the particular boneless way of younger brothers who had never learned to sit properly.
All three of them mid-conversation.
Grayson looked up when we appeared.
His eyes found me immediately.
The way they always did.
I was surprised he was still here.
I had half expected him to have gone home.
He hadn't.
He had stayed.
Julian looked up.
"There they are," he said. "What were you talking about for an hour?"
"Things," Mrs. Hawthorne said pleasantly.
"What things?" Julian asked.
"Private things," she said.
"About Grayson?" He asked again.
Julian looked at me.
I kept my expression entirely composed.
He narrowed his eyes.
"You talked about Grayson," he said.
"We didn't," I said.
He pointed between us.
"I'll find out," he said.
"You won't," Mrs Hawthorne said.
An hour later Grayson stood.
"We're going to bed," he said.
Mrs. Hawthorne looked up from her book.
"You are," she said pleasantly. "In your old room."
Grayson looked at her.
"No," he said.
"Yes," she said.
"Alvara and I…"
"Alvara is staying in the guest room," she said. "You will stay in your room. That is the arrangement."
"That is not the arrangement," he said.
"In this house," she said, "it is."
Grayson looked at his father.
Dominic turned a page of his newspaper.
"Don't look at me," he said.
Julian was looking at the ceiling trying very hard not to laugh.
"Mom," Grayson said.
"Grayson," she said.
"We are adults," he said.
" And you may do whatever you wish to do in your house, but in this house you will sleep in your room.” she said.
"There will be no fornication under my roof," she added simply.
Grayson looked at her.
"We have been fornicating," he said, "since…"
"Grayson," I said.
He looked at me.
"Since before tonight," he said, slightly redirected.
Mrs. Hawthorne looked at me.
I opened my mouth.
I closed it.
He took my hand.
And walked me toward the corridor.
"Goodnight," he said over his shoulder.
"Your room," his mother called after him.
"Goodnight, Mom."
Julian finally laughed loudly as we walked out.
The guest room was large and warm.
Everything is prepared.
He closed the door.
I turned to him.
"Why," I said, "must you do that."
"Do what," he said.
"Tell your mother we have been…"
"I wasn't going to let her win," he said.
"She wasn't trying to win," I said. "She was setting a boundary in her own home."
"She was winning," he said.
"Grayson…"
"You don't understand," he said. "That woman has never once heard the word no from me." He paused. "Not once. In my entire life."
I looked at him.
"Not once?" I asked.
"Not once," he said.
" What about tonight?”
He looked directly into my eyes.
"Tonight I had a reason," he said.
I looked at him for a long moment.
"The way you said it…"
"I wasn't going to allow her to win twice in one evening," he said.
"Telling her we have been fornicating is…"
"Was accurate," he said.
"It was embarrassing," I said.
"You have nothing to be embarrassed about," he said.
"Grayson…"
"You are a grown woman," he said.
"This is her house" I said.
"And also mine," he said.
"I need to shower,”I said.
I walked into the bathroom.
Closed the door.
Turned on the bathtub faucet.
Warm water slowly filled the marble tub while steam gathered softly through the room.
I stepped in carefully.
Leaned back against the smooth surface.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
The door opened.
I turned.
Grayson.
Standing in the doorway.
Entirely composed.
"What are you doing," I asked.
"I don't want to wait outside," he said.
"Your mother…"
"Is in her wing," he said.
He stepped forward.
Slowly.
Like he was giving me time to stop him.
I didn’t.
The steam curled softly between us.
His white shirt sleeves were rolled slightly from earlier dinner.
Tie gone.
The top buttons open.
He looked unfairly beautiful standing there in the warm light of the bathroom with that calm expression that always made me feel like the center of his attention had narrowed to only me.
"Grayson," I said quietly.
His eyes moved over my face.
Then lower.
To my bare shoulders above the water.
Then back to my eyes immediately.
"I missed you tonight," he said softly.
"You saw me all evening."
"Not like this."
He crouched slightly beside the bathtub.
Close enough now that I could feel his warmth.
His hand lifted slowly.
Brushing damp hair back from my neck.
His fingers slid lightly along my skin.
Gentle.
I exhaled softly.
He looked into my eyes for another second before he leaned in.
He kissed beneath my ear slowly.
"Grayson..."
He kissed me again, lower this time.
At the side of my neck.
Unhurried.
Like he enjoyed every small reaction he pulled from me.
His hand settled against the side of the tub beside me.
Keeping himself close without crowding me.
"I've been thinking about you all evening," he murmured against my skin.
"You were sitting right beside me at dinner."
"I know."
He kissed my shoulder.
Softer.
My fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the bathtub.
His mouth brushed the sensitive spot beneath my ear again and I closed my eyes briefly.
"Look at me," he said quietly.
I opened my eyes.
His expression shifted immediately when he saw whatever was on my face.
His thumb brushed lightly across my cheek.
"It won't hurt this time I promise," he said gently.
The words were quiet.
"I'll take care of you."
Something about the way he said it.
Like a promise instead of seduction.
I touched his wrist lightly.
"You already do."
He looked into my eyes for a long moment.
Then he kissed my lips.
Deep enough to make my thoughts scatter immediately.
One hand moved carefully into my wet hair while the other slid along my shoulder.
Like he had nowhere else to be.
I kissed him back harder.
I felt the small sound he made against my mouth more than I heard it.
His forehead rested briefly against mine afterward.
"You were very dangerous in that dress," he murmured.
I laughed softly.
"It’s literally on the floor ."
"And somehow it's still affecting me."
I smiled.
His lips brushed against mine once more.
Then my jaw.
Then my neck again.
He kissed all over my face and body slowly.
Patiently.
Like he wanted me to feel every second of it.
The warm water shifted softly around us.
Steam curled through the bathroom while his hands held me carefully against him.
“Relax for me,” he murmured softly against my skin. “I’ve got you.”
Afterward he carried me out of the bathroom wrapped in one of the white towels from the counter.
The room is warm.
And on the bed there's a matching pajamas.
Folded neatly.
Both sets.
One his size.
One obviously mine.
We both looked at them.
Then at each other.
"When did…" I started
"This is Blackthorne Estate," he said simply. "There is nothing they cannot arrange within minutes."
I looked at the pyjamas then remembered what had just happened inside the bathroom some minutes ago.
"She knew," I said.
"She always knows," he said.
I pressed my hand over my face briefly.
He laughed slowly at my expression.
I laughed slowly like a crazy woman.
His expression softened immediately when he heard it.
He stepped closer.
Brushed damp hair back from my face gently.
"Hey," he said quietly.
I looked at him.
"You don't have to be embarrassed."
"Your entire family probably knows what happened in that bathroom."
"My family has known I was obsessed with you for months," he said. "This is honestly just progression."
I stared at him.
"That is not helping."
"It helped me."
"How?"
"You laughed."
And annoyingly…he was right.
He took the pyjamas.
Handed me mine without comment.
I took them.
We dressed.
Got into bed.
He settled beside me.
"I called your mother," he said.
I turned to look at him.
"While you were with my mother," he said. "To tell her you wouldn't be coming home tonight."
"What did she say?" I asked.
"She said ‘tell Alvara to behave herself’." he said.
I stared at the ceiling.
"She did not say that," I said.
"She said enjoy your evening," he said.
"What did she tell you?" he asked.
“ Who”?
“ My mother ”
"Things," I said.
"What things?" he asked.
"She told me you worked for eleven days without leaving the Technology floor once," I said.
"And that you have never asked for anything for yourself at that dining table," I said.
"Until tonight," I added.
He said nothing.
I turned to him.
He was looking at the ceiling.
His composed face.
"She loves you very much," I said.
"I know," he said.
He reached forward.
His hand found mine under the duvet.
"What else did she tell you?" he asked.
"Some things are between me and your mother," I said.
"Starling "
"Goodnight, Grayson," I said.
He exhaled.
"You and my mother are against me ”he said.
"For you," I said. "Not against you."
He was quiet.
"Thank you," he said.
Without explaining what for.
I squeezed his hand.
"Sleep," I said.
"Yes," he said.
The Blackthorne Estate is quiet around us.
His hand in mine.
I closed my eyes.
And slept.