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

up now, or do you wish to sleep a bit

under his intense gaze, unsure of what to

Connor reached out and grasped

but Connor's grip was as

Connor!" Her

drew

she fell next to

her mind swirling

over, propping himself on either

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

felt frightened by his

but Connor's hands

Camila's voice shook,

her. Instead, he pressed down

closer, his breath

shouted, her whole

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