Until I met her. For some reason, opening my heart to her felt so natural, honest, and sincere. My mind always told me to stay away from true feelings, but my heart felt something from the second I met her.
"Isn't that what it is for you?" Camilla raises her voice this time. "Will you tell me that I'm also the first woman from this hotel you've kissed? Or haven't you slept with anyone before me? Or is it my engagement that makes you feel this way?"
I did. I've slept with women my age who came here for a vacation. I've slept with older and more experienced women. I've slept with married women who were bored with their marriages and wanted to have fun. I didn't care that they were married; it only made everything easier. I didn't have to promise to call or text after they left. Sometimes I slept with a couple of women at once.
I was such an asshole when it came to sex. It meant nothing to me but to get a release, to blow off the steam when I needed it.
"No, you're not," I say honestly, and it's my turn to look away. I can't force myself to look into Camilla's eyes right now. If I tell her how many women I've seduced just because I am who I am—the heir of a multi-million hotel empire—she'll walk away and never look back.
And the only time I’ve wanted not only to sleep with a woman but for her to know me, the real me, that's when I find out that she'll never be able to do that because she's getting fucking married.
Karma is a bitch.
"Why do you have an arranged marriage?" I ask after a long pause. My voice is even this time, and I force myself to look at Camilla again.
"It wasn't exactly my choice." She exhales, her eyes still wet. "I lost my parents when I was ten; they died in a car accident. My aunt raised me. She always told me that I'm a burden to her and that she can't wait for me to get married and leave her house."
Camilla clears her throat, and I see the first tear falling down her cheek. I fight my urge to wipe it away, wrap my arms around her and press her body to mine to make her feel better.
But I just sit there motionless as if I was frozen and have lost my ability to move in shock.
These bastards told her she's a burden? They kept telling a little girl who lost her parents that she was unwelcome in their home?
The blood in my veins starts boiling; my fists clench so hard that it hurts my palms.
"They always talked about how much money I owe them, how lucky I am to live with them and not in an orphanage." She wipes her tears and continues looking at her dress, unable to look into my eyes. "Fiona, my aunt, said that she'd find a husband who will take care of me. She wanted to do it when I turned eighteen but couldn't find the 'right candidate.' She wanted the man to pay them for everything they've spent on me."
"The right candidate?" I growl, trying not to raise my voice, but anger covers me completely. "You're not a racehorse to place bids on."
She starts crying. I lean closer and take her in my arms. She buries her face in my T-shirt, and I wrap my arms around her, pressing her body to me firmly, unable to believe everything she has been through.
"You don't have to do this," I whisper into her ear, petting her hair and back with my hands. "You're a grown woman; they can't force you."
"Yes, I do," she sobs, shaking her head. "They said I have to pay them for everything they've spent on me."
I can't believe this. The girl I'm in love with is getting married to another man. And she's doing it because ofmoney.
I always made fun of gold diggers who came in here with their elderly wealthy husbands. I always thought it was their choice, and they decided not to work but to find an easier way to support themselves. I always felt that they valued money more than love. I would never have considered that they might be in a trap, that they might have had a terrible childhood, that they might have no choice.
"I wanted to have something real, to feel something, and I felt it with you." Camilla speaks again. She’s stopped crying, but she won't lift her head up. I guess she feels ashamed, even though there's nothing to be ashamed of. It's her aunt who should be ashamed.
"I'll figure something out," I tell her and kiss her forehead.
This time I won't stand aside. I won't let Camilla marry a man she doesn't love. Do they want money? Luckily, I have plenty. When I turn twenty-five next month, I'll be able to use my trust fund, the one my mother left me in her will. There are millions of dollars; I believe I'll find a way to chase those bastards away from my girl. And until then, I have to make Camilla fall in love with me. And I'll take care of everything else.
CHAPTER SIX
CAMILLA
To say that the last couple of days were unforgettable is to underestimate everything I've been through. I've spent my days as usual: preparing to be a good wife to a man I do not even know and then waiting for the time when my cousin falls asleep to meet Antoine.
We've spent every single night together—kissing, touching, and talking until sunrise. But I've always felt like I need more, like an addict who couldn't get enough and needed a larger dose each time.
I've slept from sunrise to breakfast and a couple of hours during the day, the time I usually spend reading while my cousins were tanning and ignored me. But I don't care; the lack of sleep doesn't affect me at all. Furthermore, I felt my energy was overflowing, and I could do without sleep.
Sometimes, Antoine and I catch sight of each other during the day. Those are the best moments of my life when he grabs me in his arms and kisses me so deeply that my head starts spinning.
But then he has to let me go so my family won’t notice my disappearance. That’s painful, but I know we will meet later during the night, which makes my day bearable.