Chapter 2

The man didn't raise his voice, and his tone stayed calm and soft, but the chaos instantly quieted down. "Fra... Mr. Branwell." The uncle gripping Bellamy's arm instinctively let go and stepped back in panic. Fraser Branwell. The Branwell family's chosen heir. A man nobody dared cross. What was he doing here? And coming down from the second floor? Mr. Hawkins Sr. narrowed his eyes. He knew Fraser and Bellamy had known each other since childhood-barely counted as childhood sweethearts. But wasn't Fraser in Amerden? How'd he suddenly show up here? Still, no matter what, no one could take what he already laid claim to. "Fraser, this really is a Hawkins family matter. I suppose your father-" "Grandpa Hawkins, while I still call you that, maybe let this go." Fraser's voice stayed flat. "Back when Thomas was alive, you were always trying to control him. Now he's barely gone, and you're already doing this? Are you trying to make him turn in his grave?" The phrase "turn in his grave" cut through like a knife, striking deep in Mr. Hawkins's chest. Slumping back into his chair, he looked stunned and defeated, flashes of past fights with his son running through his mind-especially those final pleadings before Thomas passed. Mr. Hawkins Sr. gave up without another word, and the other elders, already too scared to speak after Fraser's entrance, beat a hasty retreat. By the time everyone left, the sun had already started to set. Bellamy curled up on the couch without saying a word. Dressed in black, she looked even thinner than usual. Her half-lowered eyes and drained expression made her look heartbreakingly fragile. Fraser, who'd been all authority and chill just moments ago, softened instantly in front of her. Carefully carrying over a bowl of warm soup, he sat beside her and coaxed gently, "Eat something, would you? You're so skinny now, your chin looks like it could poke holes." Bellamy caught the faint scent of cooking smoke clinging to him, and her heart twisted. This was Fraser-usually admired like royalty, aloof and untouchable. Now he had crossed half the world just to be here for her... and even cooked. Countless girls dreamed of getting that kind of treatment. But so what? He wasn't doing any of this for her. He was here... for another woman. Biting back the sourness rising in her chest, Bellamy took the bowl, downed the soup quickly, then gave him a small smile. "I'm fine now. Thanks for coming. I can take it from here. You should get going." Fraser always had a naturally cold look. But when his eyes landed on her? There was gentleness there, clear as day. Holding her jaw lightly, he asked, "Bellamy, why have you never once thought... that you could lean on me?" Lean on him? She stared blankly for a moment, then laughed coldly. "I never expected a free favor from you. Just be straight-what do you want? If I can manage it-" Before she could finish, his kiss came crashing down-gentle and forceful all at once, sweeping her into something overwhelming. Fraser kissed like a man who had snapped. Bellamy had nowhere to run, no way to fight back. He lingered over her lips, not letting go. She opened her eyes slightly, catching his sharp side profile, and suddenly remembered the fear the Hawkins family showed toward him. If she could really hold onto Fraser... Would she be able to lock down the Hawkins family forever? Heart pounding, Bellamy shut her eyes tight and leaned into his kiss. Her trembling hand reached up to unbutton his shirt. Her sudden surrender lit a fire neither of them could put out... Once the storm had passed, Bellamy was limp in his arms, her eyes pink at the corners. Fraser gently stroked her cheek, his voice impossibly tender. "I only want you." His eyes darkened, and he leaned over for another kiss. Surrounded by his warmth and whispers that felt like dreams, Bellamy's eyelids fluttered shut. "I also want you," she whispered.