Because favours are priced...
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"You have an insatiable desire for trouble Camille Sanders. You'll never just be satisfied. You're like me, too wild for the world."
I laugh at the outrageousness. "You're dramatic I'll give you that Michae...
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My palms were being infested by red crescents. I had been digging my nails into my palms the entire fucking day. And it just doesn't seem to end. I tried to stop it; I did. But what can I do really?
My utter control was shattered when I realised, I can never stop this. My father was adamant on doing this. It had probably been his plan since day one to guarantee his ever ending fortune. Belinda was even more serious, seemingly madly in love and desperate for this wedding to happen. It was like a contract that gained them both benefits I can never imagine.
I had only a simple conversation with my father the day before. Well, it was as simple as it gets these days. I had found him in the living room and sat across him.
"Was it your plan to marry her?"
He looked up, surprised, shocked, but he didn't flinch or make a move to walk away.
"Why are you asking this now Camille? Are you hoping to record my supposed confession and sell it to Mantle?" he sighed, annoyed. I never thought I'd finally get him to be annoyed with me. But I did it. Though, it no longer felt like a victory. I just felt like shit. Scratch that, I still feel like shit.
"No dad." I bite back. "I'm serious."
"I thought you didn't want to talk."
"Well, I've got to know a few things recently. It made me remember you're the villain here, not your stupid fiancée." He waits for me continue, looking up from his newspaper. "The articles, from last year...they called you a gold digger. How you hung around her arm, going as her date for every party, having dinners around town, practically wooing her.
"I found out you lied about the years too. 3 years ago, when you missed my 15th birthday, you weren't actually at a meeting were you? You were here, doing god knows what to get into her pants."
"What do you want to know Camille?" his tone indicated he just wanted to get this over with. He was never one for confrontations. He would lie, avert and even stay silent for hours if he had to. It didn't matter if you even cornered him. He wouldn't submit. He was that good.
"What I want, is to know, was this your plan?" he stayed quiet and I grit my teeth.
"Did you mean to seduce your potential investor and keep staying on her radar by flying first class almost every month to New York? Did you mean to buy that apartment in the sky rise so she'd be blinded by your non-existent wealth and go on dates with you? Did you pat the twins on the head and get them what they wanted to show you could father them if you were to marry her? Did you take off your ring every time you met her? Should I be pitying Belinda Evan?"
He gapes at me aghast, face paling. My father looks away from my unrelenting stare mixed with grief and anger. I was on the brink of breaking down right in front of him, all over again. I gripped the arm of the couch and dug my nails sharply into the fabric.
