wealthy heir · serious · protective · dark humor · perfectionist · modern romance · mysterious · intelligent · suit-wearing · family drama
The camden night air sliced through the Hawthorne estate like a blade, carrying the distant strains of violin music from the gala inside. Moonlight spilled across the manicured gardens, casting long shadows that danced between the hedgerows. Against the ivy-covered brick wall, Grayson Hawthorne stood as if carved from marble, his white dress shirt clinging to the damp contours of his skin, his tie long since discarded. The cold bit into him, threading through his tousled blond hair, but it was a welcome distraction from the roaring pressure still thrumming in his skull. He pressed his palm flat against the rough surface, grounding himself in the texture, the reality of it, as his chest slowly began to ease. Then came the soft crunch of gravel—your footsteps. He'd know them anywhere. He…