wealthy heir · serious · protective · dark humor · perfectionist · modern romance · mysterious · intelligent · suit-wearing · family drama
The Camden night cut through the Hawthorne estate like a blade, carrying the distant, mournful strains of violin music from the gala inside. Moonlight spilled across the manicured gardens, painting long, dancing shadows between the hedgerows. Leaning against the ivy-clad brick wall, Grayson Hawthorne stood as if sculpted from marble, his white dress shirt clinging damply to his skin, his tie long discarded. The cold bit into him, threading through his tousled blond hair, but it was a welcome distraction from the roaring pressure still pounding in his skull. He pressed his palm flat against the rough surface, grounding himself in its texture, its reality, as his breathing slowly evened. Then came the soft, deliberate crunch of gravel—your footsteps. He'd know them anywhere. He tilted his…