Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
After half an hour, keeping myself as concealed as possible while I wait for my ride, the Bentley pulls up and Mum’s regular driver gets out and opens the back door for me.
“Miss,” he says, nodding as I hurry over and slip into the backseat.
I’m not surprised my mother hasn’t come along for the ride. She needs a good couple of hours to primp and preen herself before she’d even think about letting herself be seen in public. My request was too urgent and she sensed it, yet her distressed daughter on the end of the line still isn’t enough for her to brave the outside world without her lippy and her hair styled. And here’s me in last night’s clothes, no makeup, and my hair tangled haphazardly into a loose braid. She’ll be horrified.
I smile my thanks to my mum’s driver as he shuts the door, and once again return to my phone, staring down at the screen. Why hasn’t Jake called me? I feel like I’m clutching at straws, clinging to something that’s fading fast.
Not many people in the world would take on my father, but I thought Jake was one of them. Unaffected, unbothered, and unimpressed by my dad’s status. My head meets the glass of the window and I watch the bustle of London pass me by, wondering where the hell I go from here.
* * *
My mother doesn’t greet me at the door in a rush to comfort me. Sighing, telling myself I shouldn’t have expected anything less, I wander down the entrance hall of her obscenely plush apartment in Kensington, the only thing she has left from my father. It’s lined with elaborate gold-gilded frames, all displaying intense oil paintings of various English countryside landscapes. So over the top. So my mother. I enter the even more elaborate lounge and sigh. A giant rug takes up the center of the room with two roll-top couches perched precisely opposite each other, both with gold, intricately calved legs and two fringed velvet cushions sitting neatly at each end. The vivid colors of the room—royal blues, greens, and reds—have always given me a headache. Today is no different.
“She thinks she’s the bloody queen,” I mutter, hearing the chink of china coming from the kitchen. Don’t even get me started on the kitchen. It’s a busy mess of designer utensils, gadgets, and deep carved wood. She doesn’t even cook.
“This way, Maria,” Mum calls, entering the room, followed by her housekeeper, who’s carrying a tray of tea. “Camille!”
“Mum,” I say, the strangest feeling coming over me. I feel all tearful all of a sudden, but I put it down to the familiarity of her face. She looks as perfect as ever in a pale blue skirt and cream blouse.
“Well, look at the state of you!” she cries, looking me up and down, her face a picture of alarm. “You look like a homeless stray!” She points for Maria to place the tray on the gold-plated coffee table and then shoos her away.
I burst into tears, the gravity of my situation suddenly hitting me like a kettlebell to my face. He’s gone. Just gone, and I have no explanation to help me try to come to terms with it. My arse hits the firm seat of mum’s couch, my face landing in my palms.
“Camille!” Mum cries, her court shoes padding across the rug to me. She lowers next to me and puts an arm around my jerking body, patting at my shoulder. “Now, now, sweetie pie. Has this got anything to do with that strapping man who was photographed carrying you out of The Picturedrome?”
I shrink into her half-embrace and mumble my confirmation, sniffling constantly. “Dad hired him.” I hiccup over my words. There’s no holding back now. Mum can shred my father with her words all she likes, and I hope she goes all out. I hate him.
“Hired him?”
“As a bodyguard. Dad received a threat.”
She scoffs, for good reason. “Your father receives those weekly, darling.”
“It was directed at me this time. He said Jake was a precautionary measure, but I didn’t want a man following me around. Sebastian’s back in town. I thought Dad was being underhanded. So I tried to give Jake the slip a few times.”
Mum smiles knowingly. “My sassy little Cami.”
I return her smile. “Then some photographs were delivered to my apartment—photographs of me.”
She frowns, so I go on.
“Like proof I was being watched. It made it all very real.” I shrug, watching her beat down the curses she wants to fire off that my father would no doubt hear from the other side of town. “Jake and I got…close,” I add quietly.
Mum’s face softens in an instant, and her hand comes down to my knee and squeezes lightly. “He’s a very handsome, strong man, Camille,” she says. I study her, knowing there’s more to come. “And a little older.”