33
Camilla White
M y heart is beating wildly while my shaky hands turn sweaty. If only I could press them against my thighs to get rid of it. This bloody dress and this bloody party. Why did I come here?
My mind is a jumbled mess, trying to find a reasonable enough explanation as to why we have the same shaped mark.
Probably just a coincidence.
But is it? How much of a coincidence could it be that my first boss’s late husband has the same birthmark as I do? I have learned in this kind of society that nothing happens by chance.
This is just what I needed on top of being at a party I don’t belong at, where people keep giving me the stink eye. Others would think of themselves as lucky to be in my situation.
To have befriended people in high places who can provide me the kind of experiences others can’t, not even once.
But how can I feel lucky when I keep seeing how dark and stormy my future is? How can I be grateful if I feel like I keep being dragged into realities I want no part of?
If only I weren’t such a soft-hearted person who can’t say no to people…none of this would be happening now. If I could just have kept that goddamned distance from the start and stayed in my rightful, insignificant place...
I snort rather loudly in the empty hall.
Even I don’t believe in myself .
Would I have kept my distance? I mean...could anyone have? Doubtful.
Certainly not with the amount of attraction and electricity surrounding Vincent and me every time we lock eyes.
This is such a big mess. With a sigh, I walk mindlessly through the huge corridor. There’s no way Aunt Lizzie’s husband could be related to me and have no one ever tell me. Could there?
No! It’s just a coincidence. An unfortunate coincidence.
When I get home, I will rip that letter open once and for all. If there’s–
I can’t even think about it. It can’t be! But if there is a chance of...anything...I need to know.
“Pssst,” I hear someone call from behind me.
Turning around, I come face to face with a white wooden door that suddenly opens. A strong arm sticks out, grabbing my wrist and pulling me inside. I can only yelp from the fright of being dragged into a room with a stranger. My body relaxes only when I come face to face with two very familiar brown eyes.
Vincent .
Instantly, my heart warms at the sight of him.
Ever since those two weeks apart, it seems as if he has a hard time staying away from me. There hasn’t been a night we haven’t spent together, with one of us sneaking out too early in the morning before others awake. Still, even Mariah has noticed how he requests my presence too often for even the little things that other staff members could easily solve.
I can’t say I don’t enjoy it, though; I’ve become very much attached to him myself.
Wordlessly, his hands find my waist, bringing me close to him. His scent enters through my nostrils, warming my body up with the familiarity. For a small moment, I just bask in it. The comfort and intimacy that we always crave so much.
“Did you enjoy the evening?” he breathes out against my neck.
“I guess.” I shrug. “These parties are overrated, though. It gets boring really quick.”
He agrees with a nod before continuing, “However, it couldn’t have been that boring. I mean, you spoke to the king . He barely spares a minute to everyone else.”
I stop for a second, thinking his words over. He did pay me a considerable amount of attention, after passing by many people with only just a nod. With dozens of people desperate for his attention... Why me?
Could it be because... no . Of course not.
“He was just intrigued at the new face, I am sure.” I try to wave it off. “Or because he thought I was Edgar’s new girlfriend.”
With a guttural growl, Vincent walks us both against the wall.
“My brother needs to learn his lesson,” Vincent grumbles.
“He is inoffensive, though. He just likes to stir things up.” I laugh. “Or to watch you sweat a little.”
“He just wants to see me lose my composure.” The annoyance in his voice is palpable. “He forgets my education has taught me to keep my temper in check, to be in control.”
“Oh.” I snort, amused. “Because you’re always so in control. Right ?”
With a side-eye, he smirks before admitting, “You’re the exception, it seems. You’ve been driving me crazy since that bloody memorial.”
“Oh, so you admit to having been hung up on me ever since?”
“I admit nothing,” his lips mumble against my skin while his hands slowly travel up my spine in a slow caress as his forehead falls against mine. “It’s torture to have you here and watch you walk around the palace and not be able to touch you. You’re gorgeous in that dress.”
Clever, he’s able to steer me off-topic. I’ll bite this time around.
“Thank you,” I whisper back in response to his compliment, my nose lifting slightly just to nudge his chin a little bit.
“I am sorry for my mother. She’s—”
“I know, don’t worry.” I cut him off. “Now, why have you kidnapped me into this…” I stop, finally looking around and noticing the opulent decoration of the room.
Velvet couches, silk walls, and gilded chandeliers. And here I thought the manor was over the top. This palace makes it look like a middle-class vacation house.
I don’t even know what this room is for. It doesn’t seem to be an important or very used division of the palace but keeps up with all of the sumptuosity that I have seen in all other rooms and corridors.
“Because I missed you.” His words hit me like a ton of bricks, making my heart skip a couple of beats.
These are the dangerous words that keep chaining me to him, and yet I cherish every single one of them even if they’re just temporary.
To try and lighten the mood in regards to such heavy words, I taunt, “We’ve just left each other this morning.”
“I’d have you wake up in my bed every single morning if I could.”
Another heavy blow to my heart.
This one forces me to take a step back and bring some distance between us. He frowns, reaching out for my wrist, not letting me step away from him any further. He sure must be tired of my hot and cold, but how else can I approach this? His words make me fall for him irreversibly . In the end, he will still take his trophy wife and maintain his status, and I’ll probably be forced to leave my childhood home just so I can get a chance of avoiding a miserable life.
It would still be miserable, though, to be ripped off my childhood home, even if it isn’t mine.
Even if he chose to end things right here instead of dragging them out, letting me know it couldn’t be continued, I am already so far deep in love with him that I’d already be wrecked.
If by now, I would be miserable, the hindsight of how it will be later on in the future is terrifying in itself. And yet, I am here, walking right back into his embrace, unmoving to the feeling of his fingers caressing my skin.
Choosing to believe him and his words, choosing the impending heartbreak that’s waiting for me, I let go. Because at this point, I have to be able to at least admit it to myself.
There’s no Camilla without Vincent.
I love this man.
I love Vincent, even if we’re just two star-crossed lovers. The kind all authors write about, in such a beautiful, devastating way. Two different worlds that touch for a couple of moments before continuing their route in an orbit that’ll force them away from each other.
“You can’t say these things, Vincent.” I sigh. “It seems you forget that this is just temporary.”
“It feels everything but temporary.” His jaw clenches as his words come out, his arms wrapping around me tighter.
“We need to talk about this, then.”
“No.” With a shake of his head, his hold on me tightens. “Not tonight.”
My mouth opens, keen on continuing this conversation. I secretly love it when he gives in to this less rational side of him, but the clock has other plans. It starts with the famous counting towards midnight, and in the far back, we can hear the voices of all of the guests, shouting the numbers.
Ten...
Somehow, we end up enthralled in each other once again, completely unaware that there’s a world out there. Vincent’s eyes intensely lock on mine as his hand caresses my cheek. At the gentle touch, my eyes close, drinking in the warmth and affection.
Eight...
I can’t get enough of this. I can’t possibly get enough of him.
“We’re doomed,” I confess, frowning.
Seven…
The pads of his fingers smooth the wrinkled skin on my face, between my eyebrows, chasing the frown away before he pecks it. My heart flutters at such tender gestures. They’re more and more common but still throw me off. There’s a severe change between the gentle Vincent and the fuck-you-until-you-can't-walk Vincent.
Six...
Then his lips lower, pecking at the tip of my nose.
Five...
“Someone could–” he cuts me off by placing his index on my lips.
Four...
Then it drags along my lipline, most likely smudging the lipstick.
Three...
With a sharp intake of breath, his forehead finds mine once again while my hands find his chest. Our breaths mix, and our noses touch while both of our hearts race. I can feel it underneath my hands just as I feel it trying to stomp out of my ribcage.
Two...
“I’ll find a way,” he whispers, imprinting the words on my heart and creating a spark of hope.
Maybe if we fight hard enough for each other, we stand a chance…
As soon as everyone yells one from the outside, his lips crash down on mine.