Camila has lived and worked all her life in Hawthorne Manorhouse. It's all she's ever known along with the kindness shown by her boss after her mom's death. But now she's gone too and her future is uncertain.
The Manorhouse is to be inherited by som...
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Excitement and fear are coursing through my veins.
The Duke decided to eat in his office tonight, again. He's successfully avoided me for two days in a row. Every time I've come to knock on his office door he either doesn't answer, avoiding me, or he's not in there.
Tonight won't be different, I think. But still, something is telling me that I should come and try and talk to him.
Might it be because Karl spoke to me in the garden? It wouldn't be... Would it?
A pair of dark mahogany doors separates me from him. It's surreal how physically, it's just a few meters, but it doesn't matter how close we are. We will never be close, not in the way my soul yearns to be.
Like we're worlds apart - such distance that it feels like he is the sun and I'm Pluto, alone in the freezing cold.
Grasping the tiny bit of bravery I can muster, I knock on the door, hoping this time around he'll tell me to come in. But I'm in no such luck.
There's a long and deafening silence before a loud crashing sound. It's followed by a door slamming shut. Without thinking much about it, I silently twist the knob of the door and peek inside.
I gasp at the sight before me. The little corner that usually holds his drinking bottles and glasses is completely gone. Shattered glass and spilt liquor are covering the floor, specifically the area behind his desk.
He must be furious if he threw this to the ground and didn't even bother about asking to get this cleaned up.
Hoping he's retreated to his chambers to get some sleep, I silently grab the dustbin and start putting the broken pieces of glass inside it. Thankfully most of them are big, making it easier to pick them up and allowing me to just clean the floor with the mop afterwards.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Vincent's loud and growly voice sounds, startling me.
My body jumps with the scare and my hand tightens around the glass I was holding, cutting through my palm.
"Ouch!" I hiss in pain.
Throwing the glass into the dustbin with a little more force than needed, I raise my hand to make sure it's not too deep.
"I asked you a question, Camilla, do not ignore me," he warns.
"I was cleaning the consequences of your nasty temper," I answer boldly and just as aggressive.
He hasn't noticed I cut myself yet so, I hold my hand close to my chest and keep my back to him. Most of the glasses have been picked up anyway.
"I didn't ask for it to be cleaned and I sure as hell didn't say you could come in!" He bellows.
What an ungrateful...
Well, if this is the kind of person he transforms into whenever he's off his trolley, I sure as hell won't put up with him.
