37
Camilla White
A s I slip back into consciousness the memories of last night come back to me.
“I love you,” he panted, lips brushing mine and eyes blazing into my own. “I love you so much it hurts.”
“I love you, too,” I answered with a gasp as he thrust into me agonizingly slowly.
For months now, we’ve been denying feelings that have been there ever since I set eyes on him. But last night, all of that denial, all of that restraint went out of the window.
We thought we could do this without having feelings involved. It was na?ve to think that all that brought us together was an attraction.
We were wrong. So wrong.
I should have known that I wouldn’t last long. I fell for him, and I fell hard. But there is hope.
The king’s wife was clearly pregnant the last time I saw her at that party Edgar took me to. With their baby being born soon, Vincent’s responsibilities will lie solely with the title he already has. It may allow him to be with—or marry—whoever he wants.
There may be hope.
I feel myself smiling at the thought as my arm stretches on the bed, looking for the warmth of his body.
I want snuggles, and Vincent is a great snuggle in the morning when we manage to find the time.
My hand reaches cold sheets, and my eyes open, seeing the space next to me empty.
The giddiness that was flowing through my veins slows down, giving space to dismay. I guess something can rock my happiness, after all. And that’s him.
That realisation settles a heavy, unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I try to brush it off.
Vincent loves me, and he wouldn’t hurt me.
Not after everything we’ve been through and what we’ve said to each other last night. He’s just busy.
He’s hosting his mother’s birthday gala tonight. She insisted he’d be the host since they have barely been spending time together. She refused to have me in charge as he had first suggested, so he took over. Still, I have been helping him whenever I can…without her knowledge.
That reminds me that I also have a lot of things to get done. We’re probably not going to see much of each other today, but hopefully, we’ll be able to have some alone time after the gala. With that thought, I get up to get ready and start work right away.
I’ve had a shower before work, but with the number of things I have been carrying and moving around, I know I’ll be needing another one before tonight.
“Cami,” Alex calls from the ballroom. “The flower arrangements are wrong.”
“What do you mean?” I run in his direction to supervise it.
"The order was red, right?” He frowns.
“But these are...white?”
“Yes, and the delivery guy assured me the order was correct.”
“Well, they go with the decoration all the same. Place them, and I’ll see it with the duke,” I reassure him.
I walk to Vincent’s office through the disarray of people, tables, chairs, and decorations going around from one division to the other in preparation for tonight.
It’s also past lunchtime, and I’ve barely eaten, but this is my excuse to see him, so I might just take it to my advantage. Five minutes is all I need.
“Come in,” his voice sounds from inside after my knock.
“Hey there,” I whisper when I reach his desk.
His head rises from his paperwork just slightly as his gaze connects with mine before it falls again. He is barely even looking at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing. I just have a lot to do today. What do you need from me?” His hands set the paperwork down and settle on top of each other while his face is cold and unreadable.
I haven’t seen that expression in a while.
“I just–” I pause, not knowing what to say. “Are you alright?”
“Perfectly fine.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm, and I know something’s wrong. “Are things alright for tonight?”
“I wanted to tell you the flowers came out wrong. Your mother had ordered red, and only white came.”
His gaze flew down to his hands, and he answers, “No. It’s correct. She changed her mind last minute. It’s white she wants.”
“Oh…”
Why is he so cold and distant? After last night, I thought...
I finally opened my heart to him and admitted my feelings, knowing full well how easily he could destroy me. And instead of proving me wrong, it seems as if he’s doing just that.
“Is that all?” he asks, grabbing his pen.
A frown etches onto my face, and his gaze quickly moves away from me. He can’t even look me in the eyes for long. It could be the stress getting to him, but that has happened in the past, and it never affected the way he interacts with me.
Something’s not right…
“Yes,” I answer, trying to sound as emotionless as possible.
Straightening my back, I stand and head for the door. My eyes burn, and my throat constricts, but I will not give him the satisfaction of a tear. I am strong, and Mrs Hawthorne taught me better than to let a man control my life.
And just like she taught me, my body goes into autopilot mode, taking care of everything for the gala. Once everything is set up and guests start to arrive, I disappear into my room.
I was going to attend out of courtesy and respect for Vincent, but after the way he treated me, the last thing I want is to be present and be dealt nothing but cold shoulders.
Do not let emotions rule your decisions. Elizabeth’s words ring in my head, giving me a new surge of strength to endure whatever is meant to happen tonight.
With newfound courage, I get ready. Minimum but classical makeup adorns my face. Then, I choose an elegant golden gown to go with it. It clings to my chest with delicate and thick straps falling from my shoulders onto my arms. The bottom is A-shaped, hugging my hips until it flows to the ground.
I look good, amazing even. But I feel anything but.
Nonetheless, I leave my room with a straightened, stiff back and high chin.
The gala is beautiful and so well done, and even though I wasn’t responsible for anything specific, I am glad I was able to help make it happen.
Faces are all I see, some I have become accustomed to, others not so much. The main hall is full, classical musing playing in the back and the lights dimmed just a notch, giving it the right ambience.
“You look beautiful, Camilla,” a husky voice whispers, but it’s not the one I was expecting.
Turning around, I come face to face with Vincent’s younger brother.
“Edgar.” I smile at him, knowing it doesn’t reach my eyes.
“What’s troubling you, my dear?” He frowns, concern covering his features.
“Nothing,” I try to reassure him.
“Well, whatever is making you sad, it’s time to let it go. Tonight, we party.” He offers me his arm, and I gladly take it.
Edgar is cunning, and I am almost sure he knows what’s troubling me. Usually, he convinces me to talk it out and gives me good advice. This time, he seems to be avoiding the subject, and I don't know if, for once, I should be relieved he let me be or concerned that it's so serious he’s willing to let it go.
He pulls me to the dancefloor, and I don’t protest. Dancing is not my forté, but Edgar’s the type of person it’s hard to say no to. He’s open, funny, and charming—the total opposite of his brother. I like to think we’ve become good friends and that he’s someone I can trust in the middle of all of the fake facades that run around this court.
He guides me, twirling and dipping me for three long songs, making me laugh quite a few times. A few people stop and look at us with smiles on their faces, probably wanting to be or look as carefree as we do.
It’s fleeting, only for a few minutes, but that’s what Edgar conveys. Blitheness
When I am with Vincent, things are intense but never carefree.
Which I understand. He’s a duke. Throughout his life, a strict routine, ambitious goals, and high expectations were all there was. It’s hard to be light-hearted when you’re raised to please everyone but yourself.
It makes me more grateful to have found a good friend like Edgar.
“Thank you,” I tell him when the music finishes.
“Always, darling.” He smiles. “You deserve the world.”
With a charming smile, he bows and kisses my hand, and I can’t help but giggle at his behaviour.
I am a mere housekeeper, nothing worth bowing for, and yet, he does it. Showing me that in his eyes, I am as important as everyone else in this room.
I am sure when Edgar settles down and finds love, that woman will be a lucky one.
“I’d like to have everyone’s attention, please,” the duke’s mother’s voice sounds from the microphone.
Edgar’s stance freezes, and I swear I can feel him tense on my hand. Nonetheless, he flashes me a smile and places himself by my side, offering me his arm once again. Not even thinking twice, I accept it, directing my attention to her speech.
“Isn’t the speech only after the birthday wishes, at the end of the day?” I whisper to Edgar.
He looks at me, a weird emotion flickering through his eyes, then nods and looks back at his mom.
Weird.
“I want to thank everyone for their presence. It has been an amazing party,” she starts, raising a flute of champagne. “But the reason for my true happiness and what has made this birthday of mine so special this year lies with my eldest son, Vincent, who I’d like to call up to the stage.”
My heartbeat spikes, and I squeeze Edgar’s arm, trying to keep balanced. He covers my hand with his in reassurance.
The moment he steps on stage, my breath hitches. He’s handsome in a black and white tuxedo, sporting a single white flower on his chest pocket. His hair, with those thick brown locks that I’ve run my hands through so many times, are styled back flawlessly.
He’s perfect, always has been, and as he stands on the stage, right next to his mother, he’s dominating the entire room. His presence always does, independently of the location.
“My son has been officially declared heir to the throne.” She pauses, looking directly into my eyes, and I swear I see an evil smile making its way onto her face. “Thus, I am so thrilled to announce to everyone the engagement of my son, Vincent Hawthorne, with Eleanor Courtenay.”
My heart stops.
As my eyes snap to Vincent’s, I notice how he has already been looking at me, avoiding me as soon as my attention reaches him.
It doesn’t stop. It shatters .
My vision blurs, and ringing noises prevent me from listening to another word coming from her mouth. There are shockwaves of pain hitting me from every corner, making everything around me disappear.
All of these months, I was hesitant and fearful of the magnitude of getting out of this with a broken heart. I just hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Yet, it is worse than all the outcomes my brain had imagined.
It feels like all the gods of evil, from all existing mythologies, have come together and decided to join forces in spite of me. And worse, now they’re all up there, looking down on me and laughing at the stupid little girl who had hope for…true love and happiness.
“Cami,” Edgar’s voice sounds, but I barely acknowledge it.
Only when Eleanor’s frame steps onto the stage and she eagerly latches on to him, kissing the same cheek I kissed at dawn, do I take a breath—more like a broken hiccup—I didn’t know I’d been holding.
“Take me out of here,” I choke out.
“I am so so–”
“Just, please,” I mumble, gripping his shirt with trembling hands. “Get me out of here.”
He made me fall in love with him. Made me trust him.
It was all just a means to an end. To break me down afterwards.
Like everyone else.