Archive of Our Own

I would never get used to the flashing cameras, I thought to myself as I stepped out of the limo, Follies Lace Louboutin pumps on my feet and a bright, red smile at the ready.

“Avery!”

“Avery, over here!”

“Avery, who are you wearing tonight?”

“Avery, where is your date?”

“Avery!”

I ignored them all, letting Oren lead me through the cordoned off walkway into the museum where the gala for tonight was being hosted. I did my best to keep the smirk off my lips, but I didn’t succeed. It was too much fun, having a secret. Especially when you got to keep it from the entire world.

As we ascended the steps, Oren fell back behind me, content to let me take the spotlight. Over the past five years, I had learned to accept the stares and pictures, gossiping and whispers that came with being the Hawthorne Heiress. There was no changing the will—no matter how hard the Hawthorne daughters had tried.

I made my way down the grand staircase that led to the large ballroom the gala was being held in. My heels clicked on the marble as I walked and heads swiveled to watch. I only held my chin higher and continued smoothly down the steps. Finally, I reached the bottom, and everyone resumed talking amongst each other, trying to pretend as if they hadn’t just spent a good thirty seconds staring at me.

Off to the side, I noticed Jameson Hawthorne in a classic black tuxedo talking to a couple of people. We made eye contact, and he smiled. I smiled back and made my way over to him. Jameson said something to the couple and met me halfway.

“Well, well, Heiress,” he said, smirking, “you clean up nicely.”

I rolled my eyes and hit his shoulder. “How many times have I dressed up for events like this? And how many times have you said that exact thing?”

“I only speak the truth,” he told me.

“You really can’t turn off the charm, can you?” I asked, giving him a look. Jameson simply shrugged as an arm fell around my shoulders. I looked up into the smiling face of Alexander Hawthorne. He was also in a tuxedo, but he’d loosened the black tie around his neck. He held a cookie in his other hand and took a bite.

“Hello,” Xander said, his mouth half full. “How are we doing tonight?”

“Xander, don’t talk with your mouth full,” I scolded.

Xander just continued to smile cheerily and took another bite of his dessert.

“Is Nash here tonight?” I asked.

“Oh, please, Heiress. Don’t act like he’s the brother you’re interested in,” Jameson teased. I couldn’t help the blood that rushed to my face. Xander leaned down and poked my cheek, smirking like his older brother. I shrugged his arm off of my shoulder and crossed my arms.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, turning my nose up in the air.

Jameson only chuckled. “Nash isn’t here tonight,” he said, “but Gray is over there.” He nodded his head towards the other side of the room, and my gaze followed as if in a trance.

I spotted the blonde of his hair first, combed back with the light glinting off of it. His back was to me, so all I could see was the way the fabric of his jacket stretched across his strong shoulders and back. One of the women he was talking to put her hand on his shoulder, and he laughed, turning his head slightly so that I could see the edge of his jaw and the ridge of his nose. He turned ever so slightly more, and the gray of his eyes caught mine. I watched as the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile and knew that he’d seen me.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. “Well, I suppose I should go say hi before the food is served.”

“You do that, Heiress,” Jameson said, his face still infuriatingly smug. I made a face at him and turned to leave. Xander had disappeared as quickly as he had come, so I had a clear shot to the second oldest Hawthorne brother. Slowly, I made my way across the ballroom floor and over to where Grayson stood, talking with his aunt and uncle and a group of other people that I didn’t recognize.

“Ms. Grambs.” Zara saw me first, forcing a smile. Her face still gave the impression of having just sucked on a lemon. “I’m so glad to see that you made it.”

“Well, it is my foundation that we’re celebrating,” I said, doing my best to tone down the snark in my response. A hand brushed against my own, and I resisted the urge to grab it and hold on tightly. Instead, I looked at Grayson and found him staring at me, gray eyes shining in an otherwise neutral expression. The edges of his lips quirked up for a second before the mask was back.

“Good evening, Ms. Grambs,” he said formally.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He was laying it on a little thick.

“Good evening,” I said, forcing my eyes away from his face to look at the other people gathered around.

“Have you met the Lawrences?” Zara asked, gesturing to the three people beside her.

There was a couple that were middle-aged, probably around Zara’s age. The woman had her blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun while the man’s brown hair was streaked through with gray. They were both dressed formally—the woman in a navy blue gown while the man wore a matching waistcoat and tie. Standing between the woman and Grayson was a girl who looked like a clone of the older woman. She wore a silver dress with intricate beadwork that hung off of her shoulders, and her blonde hair fell in waves down her back.

“I have not,” I said. The girl narrowed her eyes at me, her red lips pursed.

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” the older woman—Mrs. Lawrence, I assumed—said.

“We recently moved back here from New York,” Mr. Lawrence added. “I’m excited to get started at the foundation.”

My eyebrows raised at that announcement. I hadn’t heard anything about a Mr. Lawrence coming into the foundation, but I wasn’t going to worry about it right now. I was more interested in the glances that the blonde girl kept throwing at Grayson.

“Our daughter, Lillian, went to elementary school with the Hawthorne boys, so she was so excited to come back and see her old friends,” Mrs. Lawrence continued. “She used to have the biggest crush on Grayson.”

Lillian turned red. “Mother!”

“You were nine, darling. It’s all in the past now.” Mrs. Lawrence attempted to brush off her daughter’s protests, but I could see the wheels turning in her head. They had a plan, coming back here with Lillian looking like that. And I had no doubt that Lillian had no protests to trying to seduce Mr. “Heir Apparent.”

Grayson, for his part, didn’t comment on Mrs. Lawrence’s statement. He glanced down at the rolex on his wrist and addressed the rest of us. “The dinner should be starting soon. I suppose that we should all get to our seats. It was nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs Lawrence. Lillian.” Grayson nodded his head at each person as he said their name, then turned to me. “I believe we’re sat at the same table. May I escort you?”

He held out his arm, and I took it, fighting the urge to throw Lillian a smug look. Instead, I tightened my grip on Grayson’s arm as we walked away and lowered my voice.

“Ms. Grambs?” I asked.

Again, a flash of a smile crossed his face. “Just keeping up appearances.”

“We’ve been living in the same house and working together for the past five years. I would think that we’d be on a first name basis by now.”

“I’m nothing if not formal, Ave.”

A thrill shot through me at the nickname. It was frankly a little ridiculous, considering it had been almost two years since he’d taken to calling me that in private company. Namely, when it was just the two of us.

“Got any plans for tonight?” I asked, feigning casual.

“I’m actually meeting my girlfriend after the gala is over,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes, she looks very beautiful tonight. In fact, I think she might be teasing me with that dress.”

The dress in question was dark red with thin straps, a plunging neckline, and no back. It was a little more risque than what I usually went with, but Grayson had been away for a week on business for the foundation. Teasing had been exactly my intention.

“I bought it for you,” I whispered. The reaction that that got was infinitesimal to an onlooker but totally worth it for me. Unfortunately for him, or perhaps fortunately, we arrived at the table before he could respond.

Politely, he pulled my chair out, and I slid into it as gracefully as I could. I’d had a lot of practice over the years, but that didn’t mean that my skills were bulletproof.

As usual, Grayson sat on one side of me while Jameson’s name was placed on the other side, though the man had yet to show up. Xander was in his seat within moments of us sitting down, and he dramatically pulled out his napkin and laid it across his lap.

“I’m hungry,” he declared. I looked over at Grayson to see him staring at me, his gray eyes darker than usual. Xander wasn’t the only one.

I stifled a smile, reached for the wineglass that was already at my placemat, and took a sip.

The gala flew by, as the events tended to after I’d finally gotten used to them. It helped that I got to dance with Grayson, his hands hot on the bare skin of my back. Of course, to keep suspicion off, I danced with Jameson and Xander as well, though the latter gave me a knowing look while the former gave me a cheeky grin and a quiet reminder to use condoms.

He was lucky that a cameraperson chose that moment to take a picture of us, or I would have hit him.

By the time ten o’clock rolled around, I was practically vibrating with the need to escape. I waited patiently as, one by one, people began to leave. Some came to me to say a quick goodbye, others didn’t. I was thankful for those people.

After what felt like an eternity, I was given the okay by Alisa to leave. I walked at what I hoped was a leisurely pace, though I’m sure it was faster than what I intended. About half of the attendees still remained, but the Hawthorne boys had left about ten minutes ago.

As I reached the edge of the ballroom, Oren fell into step beside me. We made our way up the staircase and back to the outside world. The press had died down considerably, but there were still a few out there waiting to catch a scandal.

Unfortunately for them, they weren’t going to get one from me.

Oren herded me into the back of the car before heading to the driver’s seat. I sat alone on the leather seats, which was still a bit of an odd sensation. I was so used to Alisa accompanying me everywhere, but she’d stopped when I’d turned twenty-one and had officially inherited everything.

It felt like an eternity passed as we drove towards Hawthorne House. I knew, logically, that Oren was probably driving the speed limit and obeying all the laws of the road, but illogically, all I could wish was that I had the ability to teleport there, to crush the travel time to nothing.

Finally, we pulled through the gates and travelled up the winding road to the House. Oren parked us in the garage, and I was out of the car before he had unbuckled his seatbelt. Behind me, I could hear him chuckle, but I was more focused on getting to my room.

Thankfully, the threats against me had died down—at least, the immediate threats that required Oren to feel the need to stand outside my bedroom door at night. Now, he got the chance to sleep, and I got much needed privacy.

I kicked my heels off once I stepped into the House and gathered them in one hand, letting the straps dangle from my fingers. A little more desperately than I would like to admit, I hurried through the House, into my wing, and opened the door to my bedroom. It was dark, the only light coming from the stars and a sliver of the moon through the large windows. Slowly, I closed the door behind me and flicked on the lights, revealing an empty room.

“Grayson?” I called out. There was no response. Brow furrowed, I stepped further into my room and looked around. There were no signs that anyone had been in my room since I’d left at five this afternoon; everything was still in its place, from the book I’d left on the nightstand to my closet door being halfway open.

I frowned, but went into my closet to put my shoes away. When I came out, Grayson was shutting my bedroom door behind him. My breath hitched at the sight of him. He’d lost his jacket, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His tie was loose around his neck, and his hair was no longer slicked back, looking instead like he’d run his hands through it several times. His gray eyes met mine, and he smiled—bright, brilliant, beautiful.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping closer. “Jamie decided that now was the time for some brotherly wrestling, and obviously, Xander got involved.”

“They’re idiots,” I said, meeting him halfway.

“Completely,” he agreed before sliding his hand to the back of my neck and bringing my lips to his. I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped me as we pulled each other closer, his free hand coming up to cradle my face while I buried my hands in his hair. We were chest to chest, so close that I could feel his heart beating against my own.

Grayson broke the kiss, moving down to mouth along my jaw. “I missed you.”

I let my head fall back, giving him more access to my neck. “I missed you more.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he whispered before kissing me again, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. His hands glided down my neck and back, warm against my cooled skin, ghosting across dangerous places. Slowly, he pulled back from our kiss and leaned his forehead against mine.

“I really do like this dress,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips.

I smirked. “But you’d like it better off?”

“You know me so well.”

“I know that you’re a dork.”

But I didn’t stop him as he pulled at the straps of my dress, sliding them off of my shoulders to let the fabric pool at my feet. I didn’t waste any time going for the buttons on his shirt as he bent to kiss my shoulder, hands firmly gripping my bare waist and pulling me into him. I finished with the buttons and pushed the shirt off of his shoulders, letting it join my dress on the floor. My hands found his belt next and made quick work of that as well.

“Someone’s eager.” Grayson pressed a kiss behind my ear. I bit his shoulder and relished in the groan that rumbled through him.

“I told you I missed you more,” I said, kissing the bite mark I’d left. Grayson said nothing, instead walking me towards the bed and laying me down on the silk comforter. He drug his hands lazily up and down my sides, causing goosebumps wherever his fingers touched.

“Let’s just call it a draw?” Grayson suggested. “Unless you want me to show you how much I missed you?” His smile was wicked, and my breath left me. Instead of answering, I wound my fingers through the blond strands of his hair and let him show me.