"ADom?" She raises an eyebrow, hinting that she knows it's a three-hundred euros bottle of wine. I'm glad I didn't bringCrystal, which was my first idea.
"Oh, don't worry, I didn't pay for it." I brush away her concern, trying to sound at ease. "It's a leftover from the wedding the guests didn't want to take."
Lie.Well, not exactly. I didn't pay for the wine; that part is true, but is it a leftover? I have no idea. It's possible but unlikely.
"You take a yacht, a champagne for free, what else?" She takes a glass from my hand. "With bonuses like these at your job you can easily pretend that you're rich."
We both laugh at those words. I know she thinks it's a joke, but it's the opposite: I'm trying to impress her in any way I can without telling her thatI am rich.
I can't change my past. I was rich even before I was born. My great-grandfather opened the first small B&B with eight rooms at the house he’d built himself. His wife was a chef in the morning and a housemaid in the afternoon, while he was the concierge, driver, and bellboy.
My grandfather and his wife turned that into eight small hotels across the Riviera. My dad turned this business into Europe's most profitable hotel chain. While me...well, to be at least at one level with them, I have to make it an international empire, which I'm hoping to do one day. And maybe Camilla will be the one who's going to help me. Just like my mom supported my father, and my grandma helped grandpa.
I'll tell this story to Camilla one day. But first, I must make her fall in love with me, the real me, and not the hotel owner. And I think we're pretty close to that point.
"Are you allowed to drive when you drink?" she asks with concern, and I start laughing.
"It's France; what do you think?" I place the bottle into an ice bucket, which our crew always keeps in the fridge for us to take when needed. "It's legal to drink at sixteen here. Of course, you can drive a boat after a couple of glasses. Aren't you from Spain? I heard parents give their children sangria from when they start walking."
It's not true, but seeing teens drinking wine during a family dinner is normal in Mediterranean countries.
"I'm half Spanish, half French," she explains, and I remind myself that I shouldn't tell her that I already know her family name. I saw it when I checked the dates of her stay here. But Cami ignores that detail. "My family name—Valdos—is my dad's name. He was born in a little village in Catalonia called Alella. My mom is originally from Paris. They met by accident while she was on a short trip to Barcelona. It was love at first sight. He proposed to her a week after."
"Sounds like a real fairy tale," I say, noticing how Cami's face changes when she talks about her parents. It's like she begins to glow from the inside thinking about them.
My heart squeezes in pain for her. Losing her parents at such a young age and living in a family who doesn't love her and wants to use her as another profitable campaign is awful. It was tough to lose my mother, but at least I was a teen already, and I had my father and sisters to mourn with. We supported each other, while Cami had no one to count on.
"Yes, it was," she continues, waking me up from my thoughts. "My aunt was always laughing at my mother that she married a poor farmer and moved from the capital of fashion to the village. But they were happy.Wewere all happy. We lived in a village with a bunch of sheep they grew for their wool. I loved all of them. I gave them names. They never killed a sheep, even if it wasn't profitable anymore. They loved them all."
I can't believe Cami's mother and evil aunt were raised in the same family. They seem like two completely opposite personalities.
"What happened with the farm?" I ask, hoping that it's left for Cami.
"She sold it, my aunt. She told me it's unprofitable with a bunch of loans and debts, but I know she's lying. The business went pretty well. We used to go on vacation twice a year. Dad bought us everything we needed. They wanted to have another child."
"So they've spent all ofyourinheritance and want you to marry a stranger for money? And that money isn’t for you, it’s forthem? How can that be, Cami? It's illegal to force you to do this."
"I really can do nothing about it." She shrugs, and her face turns sad again. I almost regret asking, but I had to know. "When I was seventeen, I told my aunt that I was leaving. I said I didn't need anything from them; I'd just leave. She said she's call the police and tell them that I stole something expensive from her and threatened that I'd have huge problems."
I can't believe it. I silently promise myself that I'll use all of our lawyers to sue those bastards for everything they did to her.
"Cami, it's..."
"It's okay." She cuts me off right away. "I've already come to terms with it."
That's not okay!I want to scream but don't want to make her even sadder. At first, I'll deal with everything myself, and then I'll tell her when it's all over.
I look at our glasses with champagne which has already become warm, I guess, and say, "Cheers to never doing anything you don't want to."
She laughs as if she thinks it's impossible but raises a glass to clink in response. I will prove to this girl that there's nothing impossible if she's with me.
"It's not even seven yet. Do you want me to get tipsy even before sunset?" She winks at me but drinks anyway.
"How did you figure out my plan that easily?" I try to express shock on my face, and we both laugh.
"Tell me about your family." She places a glass on the coffee table and puts a strawberry into her mouth. She closes her eyes with pleasure when she takes a bite and purrs.
"My parents were also really happy together," I start, trying to figure out how to tell her the story without getting into details about their business and money. "Dad says it was love at first sight, but Mom always denied it. She said he had to win her heart before she even agreed to a date, while he said she was just playing hard to get to make him fall in love even harder."