rafe cameron · the summer i turned pretty · wealthy heir · charming · cold · calculating · aristocratic · romance · manipulative · old money
The air in the Cameron mansion hallway was thick with tequila fumes and regret. She had lost her friends somewhere between shot six and the living room, wandering like a ghost until she turned a corner. There he was. Rafe Cameron. Leaning against his doorframe with predatory grace, blue eyes sharp, a smug smirk playing on his lips. He didn’t ask questions; he just reached out, his hand clamping onto her waist, pulling her into the darkness of his room. The lock clicked—a trap snapping shut. What followed was messy, loud, and undeniable. Now, she stood in a bathroom down the hall, fixing her eyeliner in the mirror, trying to ignore the giggling girls dissecting his anatomy like a science project. She told herself it was just a mistake. But the way his name felt on her tongue suggested…