My Favorite Camren One-Shots

Who's the Boss at Home?

‘I don’t care how long it takes to file those damn KPO reports Timms, just get them on my desk by tomorrow morni—what do you mean it’s “not possible”? Not possible my ass, request Loseley and Thatcher to help you sort through it all. Tomorrow morning on my desk, or you’re all suspended from the office for a week.’

Camila Cabello tapped her wireless earpiece off with more force than necessary, slamming the heel of her other palm onto the steering wheel of her Ferrari F60 America. It wasn’t easy, taking over from her father as the youngest CEO of Cabello Corporations™ for several decades.

On top of ensuring her company stayed at the top of the Fortune 500 list not only nationally but worldwide, she was also being forced to oversee the renovations being made to her Miami estate.

All in all, with progress reports needing filing and sending off, multiple international meetings to attend and the general incompetency of her employees; watching over a group of topless burly men for a few hours was sounding less like a chore, and more like a much-needed reprieve from her corporate affairs.

‘They better not have knocked over my Japanese vase,’ Camila muttered to herself, tapping an attachment on her key as she pulled up to her wrought iron gates. The gates began to swing open mechanically, and she revved her engine, gliding up her asphalt driveway and pulling into her custom-made parking lot.

She had passed several large white trucks whilst speeding along her vast driveway, all printed with the same black JAUREGUI INC™ logo in block capitals along the side. Camila had naturally enlisted the most renowned building company in the United States to refurbish her pond and build an extension of her media room, and damn well hoped their work lived up to their pristine reputation.

Camila reversed into a parking bay and switched off her rumbling engine, sighing as she dropped her forehead against the steering wheel. She needed a drink…or five. Perhaps a Xanax too. She decided to leave her messenger bag and file in the passenger seat for now, before getting out of her car and circling her immense entryway to survey the building work near her pond.

‘Shit, Bieber! I dunno what to do with all the pieces, she’s gonna roast me!’

‘I wasn’t the one who fucked up and knocked it with a beam, you explain it to her!’

A cacophony of nervous-sounding male voices pierced the air, and Camila narrowed her eyes, powerwalking up to the scene as fast as her six-inch Louboutin stilettos would let her.

‘Gentlemen,’ Camila cleared her throat as soon as she approached several tall, muscled men clad in white wife beaters, cement-stained baggy jeans and scuffed Timberland boots. ‘Is everything okay out here?’

Camila was well aware that her fitted blouse and tight midi-pencil skirt were attracting attention from multiple workers dotted around the vicinity, and felt her face flush as a result. Not to mention all of the men appeared to be her age, and conventionally handsome. Perhaps one of them could provide her with a hearty…distraction at some point during the span of the construction work.

One of the workers, a brown-skinned man with a beautifully chiselled face and rash of stubble gracing his defined jaw, stepped forwards, removing his yellow workman’s hat and twirling it around in his large hands. ‘Miss—uh, Miss Cabello,’ his voice cracked.

Camila crossed her arms and arched a brow. ‘That would be my name, yes.’

‘My name’s uh…Kalin,’ the man continued on nervously, ‘and I’d just like to, uh, apologize.’

‘Apologize for what?’

‘He broke your vase.’ Another workman called from behind Kalin’s trembling form, and the rest of the workers appeared to have frozen midway through their work, watching the scene unfold before them with curious eyes.