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

steadied her breathing and managed a small smile. "Mr. Connor, David has prepared breakfast for you. Would you like to get up now, or do you wish

his intense

out and grasped Camila's

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

Her voice

drew Camila down onto

as she

raced, her mind swirling

she could gather her thoughts, Connor rolled over, propping himself on either side of her,

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

felt frightened

up, but Connor's hands held

shook, panic rising within her

her. Instead, he pressed down

he leaned closer, his breath lightly brushing against Camila's

shouted, her

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