Camila furrowed her brow slightly as her gaze fell onto the coffee table. It was cluttered with an ashtray filled like a miniature mountain and bottles of whiskey carelessly tipped over.

Her heart sank.

"Mr. Connor?" she called out softly, her voice barely a whisper, but received no response.

She glanced toward the door of the lounge.

Hesitating for a moment, she set the breakfast she had brought aside.

She pushed open the lounge door and found Connor lying on the bed, his eyes closed and his complexion pale, a look of exhaustion etched across his features.

Standing by the bedside, Camila felt a pang of sorrow seeing him like this.

She gently nudged Connor's shoulder. "Mr. Connor, it's time to wake up."

Connor didn't react, continuing to lie with his eyes shut.

"Mr. Connor," Camila called again.

Slowly, Connor opened his eyes, his gaze foggy as he stared at Camila.

skipped a

you. Would you like to get up now, or do you wish to sleep a bit longer? It's 8:30 in the morning." Connor remained silent,

flutter of panic under his intense gaze, unsure of what

out and grasped Camila's wrist

gasped, attempting to pull away, but Connor's grip was as tight as a

Her voice

strong pull, Connor drew

cried out as she fell next

heartbeat raced, her

propping himself on either side

lit, and in the shadows, Connor's expression was fierce and predatory, filled

frightened by his

Connor's hands held her

me go!" Camila's voice shook, panic rising within

didn't release her. Instead, he pressed down

his breath lightly brushing

her whole

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