Hawthorne

10 - Deal

Vincent Hawthorne

Even though she's struggling to not let her questioning expression falter before my hesitation, her hand doesn't leave my chest.

My heart is still racing but now for a different reason.

How will I tell this girl that I will not be able to give her what she might want? What every respectable woman wants...

Her slender fingers are splayed on my left peck and I grab her hand gently, intertwining our fingers before bringing her hand down. As I shift my body weight from being pressed against her, I tug her hand, directing her to the couch by the opposite corner of the office.

"You know there is a huge rift between your world and mine," I start cautiously. 

Her eyes lower in shame and I curse myself internally. The last thing I want is to make her feel less than. I don't see her as inferior to me, even if others might. 

But whereas she has the liberty to choose the path she wants for her life, I don't.

"Look at me, little Milla," I say softly, tilting her chin up. "What I meant is, I have responsibilities. Duties... People expect things from me and I am afraid what I can give you is quite limited."

"I do not expect anything. I just don't want to lose my job and my home." Her eyes widen when she realizes she called the Manor her home. "I mean, I know this is your house, your property. But I grew up here, it's the only home I know." 

"I know and if there is one thing I can promise you is that for as long as it's my decision, you'll never lose your home." 

"That's all I ask," she nods.

"But I can't promise that I'll be able to keep my distance, Camilla."

Her eyes meet mine, wide and shiny. 

"Is there something we can do about it?" she asks, innocently. 

Magically, the groin area of my pants seems to have shrunken considerably. There's something that could be done, alright. But I don't know if I have the guts to ask this of you.

Maybe honesty is the best choice? That's what my father has always told me.

"I don't know what to do Camilla. Every time we're in the same room, the tension is suffocating. All I can think about is kissing you, touching you, fucking you," I grit out the last words and she gasps. "But I can't give you anything else than that. But I also know that it's not fair to ask something like that of you."

As the words come out of my mouth, my heart sinks. It doesn't feel right.

A strictly sexual relationship? It's something I've always been satisfied in having in the past, knowing I can't commit that easily. But proposing it to Camilla feels utterly wrong. 

It's probably because I am sure she deserves more. This stunning woman is intelligent and hard-working, she deserves a man who can put a ring on her finger and make her the happiest woman in the world. 

That man won't be me, though. 

As much as I wouldn't mind being him. As much as I would want to be him.

I couldn't. I can't. 

Worse, I wouldn't be allowed to be.

At least that's what will happen if King Charles fucks up.

In the best-case scenario, he'd become a father and I would no longer be next in line, free to be only the Duke of Hawthorne. It would still be hard to marry anyone I wanted but there could be a way out. Because at least, the Agency wouldn't be controlling every move I make.