Vincent's POV
I woke up on the study couch with a crick in my neck and an empty whiskey bottle on the floor beside me.
For a few seconds, I just lay there staring at the ceiling. The morning light was already cutting through the floor-to-ceiling windows harshly. I sat up slowly and pressed my palms against my eyes.
The knock at the front door came before I'd made it to the kitchen.
I wasn't expecting anyone. My housekeeper didn't come until noon on Saturdays, and I hadn't told anyone I'd be home. I grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen on the way and opened the door.
Camilla stood in the hallway.
She was dressed simply in dark trousers, a plain blouse, no jewellery. Her hair was pulled back. The bruising on her face had started to deepen overnight, yellowing at the edges and dark
