Camilla White
My heart is beating wildly, while my shaky hands are getting 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 mole shape. Probably just a coincidence.
But is it? How much of a coincidence could it be that my boss' late husband has the same birthmark as I do? I have learned in this kind of society that nothing is done by chance.
This is just what I needed, on top of being at a party I don't belong to at all, where people keep giving me the stinky eye. They think I should consider myself lucky but how lucky can you be when you keep getting dragged into situations you want no part of?
if I weren't such a soft-hearted person, who can't say no to people. None of this would be happening now. If just I could have kept that goddamned distance from the start and stayed in my rightful place...
I find myself snorting rather loudly in the empty hall. Even I don't believe I could have kept said distance. I mean... Could anyone? Doubtful. Certainly not with the amount of attraction and electricity that surrounds us every time we lock eyes.
This is such a big mess. With a sigh, I walk mindlessly through the big corridor. There's no way Mrs Elizabeth's husband could be related to me and have no one ever tell me. Could there?
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 get face to face with a wooden white door that suddenly opens. A strong arm sticks out, grabbing my wrist ad pulling me inside. I can only yelp from the scare 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.
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 to the familiarity. For a small moment, we just bash in it. The comfort and intimacy that we always crave so much.
"Did you enjoy the evening?" He breathes.
"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 anyone."
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 is a pain in the ass," 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. "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 hand slowly travels up my spine in a slow caress as his forehead falls upon 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."
Clever, he's been able to steer me off-topic. I'll bite, this time around.
"Thank you," I whisper back, my nose lifting slightly just to nudge his chin a little bit.
"That might be more accurate, yes," He answers. "I am sorry for my mother. She's..."
"I know, don't worry. Now, why have you kidnapped me into this..." I stop, finally looking around and noticing the lavish 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. 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 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 been together 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 and 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, while 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 were to leave right now and tell me this can no longer be continued, it'd be enough to wreck me. 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 own route, in a distant path 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 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 that there's a world out there, the real one where we can't be together. Vincent's eyes intensely locked on mine as his hand caress my cheeks. 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.
The pads of his fingers smooth the wrinkled skin on my face, between my eyebrows, chasing the frown away before he pecks on it. My heart flutters at such 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 on the tip of my nose.
Five...
"Someone can-" He cuts me off by placing his index on my lips.
Four...
Then it drags along my lipline, certainly 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 are racing. 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.
As soon as everyone yells one from the outside, his lips crash down on mine.