Chapter twenty-seven
MICHAEL
Camila stopped in front of a table at the entrance, probably having to give her name to a receptionist. Since my mother and I were already well-known figures, we had been allowed in directly without going through that procedure.
Besides, everyone who arrived there had already been identified when their vehicles entered the condominium gate.
I noticed that even after giving her name—which should have been on the list, since I had informed the Harrises that my fiancée would be attending the party—Camila wasn't immediately allowed to enter, and the woman kept asking her more questions.
Suddenly, I was overcome with a surge of anger toward those damned snobbish millionaires and their rigid, inhumane security measures.
The Harrises were the kind of people who lived in constant paranoia, always thinking they might be the target of a robbery, a kidnapping, an assassination attempt, or something of the sort.
Ironically, their only daughter had died young, not because of any of the scenarios they so feared, but because she had left her parents' house emotionally distraught after an argument with them—and ended up causing a car accident that took her life.
In a way, the family's greatest and only tragedy had been brought upon by themselves.
Frustrated by all of it, I got up and walked over to her. When she noticed my presence, Camila turned her eyes toward me, and for a moment, we both stood frozen, locked in a gaze that made a few seconds feel like an eternity.
Until the receptionist’s voice reached my ears, snapping me out of the trance.
“Sorry, miss, I’ve checked again and the name is not on the list.”
That made my irritation come back, but I took a deep breath, trying to control myself. The girl was there working, she wasn't to blame for anything.
“It should be,” I said, drawing her attention to myself. “Camila is my fiancée, I asked the Harrises to include her name.”
The woman seemed to get tense with that. She knew me, she knew that, besides being an influential figure, I was none other than the birthday girl's father. So, she apologized – even though it wasn't her mistake – and allowed Camila to pass.
As soon as she took a few steps into the yard, however, she couldn't say a single word. As soon as she approached me, we were surrounded by a dozen photographers.
While they were asking for a photo – which was actually several, and they were already being taken before we even agreed – they kept talking about finally having a photo of Michael Turner with his fiancée.
“Can you two get closer to each other, please?” one of the photographers asked.
My true desire was to tell those idiots to go fuck themselves, and I could see on Camila's face that she shared the same thought. However, that wouldn't be very smart of us. And, to tell the truth, having photos of us together appear in the press was, after all, a very positive thing for my case.
So, I grabbed Camila's hand and pulled her closer to me. We both smiled for the camera, holding hands and leaning our shoulders against each other, like a couple of teenagers at a family party, trying to make a good impression on their parents while maintaining minimal physical contact.
The photographers, logically, were not satisfied with this.
“A picture with a kiss would be great,” one of them suggested, his idea immediately approved by the others.
Camila and I exchanged glances, both of us slightly embarrassed by the situation. Well, truthfully, her face was burning red, and I was feeling guilty for putting her in that position. It would look pretty bad if we refused what seemed like a simple request made to a supposedly engaged couple.
She gave me a small smile and nodded slightly, as if to say it was okay. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time we kissed. We had already done that a few days ago when I took her home. And, well... we did a lot the night we met.
So, we closed our eyes and leaned in, pressing our lips together in a soft peck. It was just a sweet, innocent kiss—more innocent than the one before. Yet, somehow, it sent sparks through every cell in my body.
Especially in one very particular part, and I just hoped it wouldn't be too obvious in the photos.
Even with my eyes closed, I could tell by the flurry of flashes that a ton of pictures were being taken. I was pretty sure that not even the birthday girl would be the center of attention like we were.
Our staged kiss lasted only a few seconds before I took Camila’s hand again and led her toward the table where my mother was waiting, leaving the photographers behind. My fake fiancée went straight to greet her fake mother-in-law.
“My dear, I heard today is your birthday as well. Congratulations!” my mother said.
I sat back down, watching as the two of them hugged. I had always assumed that if I ever got into a serious relationship, my mother would immediately find a million flaws in the woman — just like she did with Bonnie at first — but that wasn’t even close to what happened.
The two of them finally sat down and spent a few more minutes chatting, until my mother stood up again and announced, “Well, I spotted a few familiar faces. I’ll go mingle a little with this bunch of old folks and leave the young couple alone for a while.”
Camila replied sincerely, “But you’re not old at all.”
And just like that, she had completely won my mother over, who gently caressed her face before turning to me.
“You really have a lot to learn from this girl, my son.”
With that, she walked off to greet some acquaintances at nearby tables.
Now finally alone with Camila, I took the chance to apologize for what had happened at the entrance, “I’m really sorry about all that.”
“It’s part of the deal,” she replied, falling back into what was becoming her standard answer.
And honestly, it was starting to get under my skin.
At that moment, our attention, along with everyone else’s, shifted to the arrival of the birthday girl, escorted by her grandparents.
I stood up right away, wanting nothing more than to run to my daughter, scoop her up in my arms, and wish her a happy birthday. But I quickly realized that wasn’t going to happen so easily.
Photographers swarmed her like flies to honey, and guests crowded around as well, creating a scene that, for many, might have seemed glamorous — but for me, it was suffocating.
And I could tell Alice felt the same, because she soon burst into tears, overwhelmed by the crowd around her.
Acting on instinct, I rushed over, pushing my way through the small crowd.
When I reached her, I practically snatched her from Margaret’s arms. She and her husband shot me furious looks but tried to keep it together in front of the reporters.
“What do you think you’re doing, Michael?” Caleb hissed under his breath, trying not to draw attention.
I rocked Alice in my arms; she was still crying, clearly terrified.
“What are you doing?” I shot back in the same low voice. “Can’t you see she’s scared out of her mind? What the hell is wrong with you?
Margaret retorted, “If you had any experience with children, you'd know they cry. It's normal.”
“There’s nothing normal about this. Just like there’s nothing normal about turning a one-year-old’s birthday party into a high-society event with press coverage.”
Caleb countered, “As long as we have custody, we make the decisions.”
I took a deep breath, unsure if I could keep my voice down this time. But I stopped when I noticed Alice had gone quiet, making a soft babbling noise.
I looked at her and saw her blue eyes fixed on something, her little mouth forming sounds.
Following her gaze, I saw what had captured her attention.
Camila was standing at the edge of the crowd, holding two party balloons and waving them in front of her face, blowing kisses and making funny faces.
At the sight, Alice let out a sweet, bubbling laugh, as if she hadn’t been crying just seconds ago.
And I smiled too. I stepped toward Camila, and she immediately stretched out her arms. Alice went into her arms without a second’s hesitation, like she had known her all her life.
Camila turned and carried Alice toward the playground, the photographers eagerly following them, seemingly forgetting all about Caleb and Margaret.
I would have forgotten them too, if they hadn’t kept trying to ruin my peace.
“Who does that woman think she is, just taking our granddaughter like that?” Margaret hissed, staring at Camila in horror.
I faced her, furious. “That woman is my fiancée. She’ll soon be my wife and Alice’s stepmother. Get used to it.”
Caleb jumped in, “You really think getting married will win you custody of Alice? You’re an irresponsible mess — you’re in no position to raise a child.”
“That’s something you'll have to prove to a judge. But you won't succeed. Not even by spying on me like you did with the hotel employee.” I saw their faces pale with shock at the fact that I knew about their pathetic little scheme. I almost laughed but kept my face serious. “By the way, drugging someone’s drink is a crime. Think a judge will hand over a child to a pair of criminals?”
“You have no proof of any such thing!” Caleb snapped, his expression almost an admission of guilt.
“Not yet. But I’m working on it. And anyway, this isn't the time for that. I came here to celebrate my daughter’s birthday. Oh, and it’s my fiancée’s birthday too. So, I intend to spend tonight with the two of them. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Without giving them a chance to respond, I turned and calmly walked toward the playground.
As I got closer, I could hear Alice’s delighted giggles as Camila gently pushed her on the baby swing. Camila was doing it with such care and affection. Seeing them like that, smiling and laughing together, warmed my heart in a way I couldn't even begin to describe.
Right then and there, I was more certain than ever that I loved Alice.
And I was less sure that my relationship with Camila was purely part of the arrangement.
There was something else inside me, something growing stronger every day.
And it went far beyond simple physical attraction.