PYKE
Camila sobs even in her sleep as I cuddle her all night. I wish I can take those pains away, especially that I’m one of the reasons why she’s in pain right now. Guilt is consuming me slowly and painfully.
I always see her as a happy woman who doesn’t care about the world’s problem, but since that incident, she’s been silent and tried to mask her emotions most of the time and pretended to be fine. I missed her irritating banter and her infuriating mouth. My heart aches every time I see her so sad, and I can’t do anything.
We drive back to the city early in the morning after our breakfast to meet my dad and her father’s lawyer.
Atty. Timothy Sanders Jr. reads the last will and testament of late Cameron King II. The lawyer is in his early forties, medium build, wearing a fancy black tailored suit. He took over his father’s legacy who happened to be the former lawyer of Camila’s father, and my dad trusts him to take care of everything related to Cam King.
I now understand why Cam King’s family didn’t accept Camila as one of them because all his assets—his bank accounts, businesses, houses, and car collections are left in Camila’s name. And as soon as she turns twenty-one everything mentions above will be hers. She could’ve had those months ago, but Dad was planning on meeting her first to gain her trust before he will drop the news to Camila.
She just bobs her head to the lawyer to show she understands and follows what the lawyer is reading for her. It bothers me so much that she’s with us but her mind seems outside of this earth. I know this is shocking, but she deserves everything she’s going to have—every penny of it, and these belong to her in the first place. I wish I have the ability to read people’s minds when I find her staring at Dad and me, then lowers her gaze if I catch her looking at me.
“What?”
She shakes her head slowly.
“So, Ms. Mendéz, I’ll meet you with Mr. Hughes next year to discuss your surname. We have to change it to King to transfer the whole assets into your name. I’ll give you my contact numbers, call me if you need anything,” Atty. Sanders explains as he arranges the documents and places them back to his attaché case.
“I’m not interested in his assets. Why can’t you just give all of them to his family?” she asks him in a low tone. I’m expecting that from her since she knows now her father was rich.
“Sweetheart, that’s your father’s money. You’re the only one who has the right to have them all. Besides, it was all said in his last will. Your DNA matched his since you were born, but you have to change your surname to King,” Dad explains calmly.
Her brows furrow while looking at Dad. “Can I just give it to you?”
My eyes widen. Okay, I didn’t expect that.
My dad chuckles, “Sweetheart, you hate me, I get it. I wish I can turn back the time and take back my words, but that could change who you are right now. Your dad might be alive and you grow up with him or with his family, but do you wanna change something in your life while growing up?”
“It’s been twenty-two years this guilt kept taunting me. That’s the reason why I didn’t reach out to you, but I’d been watching you grew up. I wanted you to grow up in a normal family. I made sure the Wright treats you well because I’m willing to put them in hell if they laid their hands on you. That family loves you despite the payment I gave them. They didn’t even consider the money because they treated you as one of the Wright.”
“I don’t hate you.” Her tears fall down her cheeks.
I stand up and move toward the black leather couch where she’s sitting across me and Dad. I sit beside her after kissing the top of her head.
“Do you want to go out?” I ask, pulling her into a hug.
She might need some air or needs some time to sink everything in. I know she feels uncomfortable since we enter Dad’s office.
I know this room is intimidating and luxurious at the same time that makes her feel claustrophobic. A dark mahogany paneled-wall that half of it was covered with hardbound books. One oil painting from an Italian painter worth one hundred grand. The century-old huge oak wood desk that he bought at the auction. On the left side is the liquor cabinet that God knows how much cost per bottle. Most of them are only available at the VIP lounge’s bar in my club.
“Let’s finish this, I’m sorry,” she says in between sniffs.
I shift my gaze to Dad who’s lips are pressed into a thin line. He rubs his temple while looking down at the dark glass coffee table.
Atty. Sanders clears his throat. “Shall we continue?” he asks politely to Camila.
She answers a yes that is barely audible.
“As I said earlier, we have to process the papers to change your surname first then I will transfer all the assets to your name. In the meantime, I’ll transfer one hundred grand to your account for your expenses.”
“No!” Camila exclaims.
I chuckle at her reaction. The two men look shocked at her. Typical Camila, who refuses when it comes to money. That’s what I love about her.
I freeze in my seat at the last words my brain thinks while my heart flip-flops in my chest. No doubt I love that everything about her, but does she love something about me?
“Pyke.”
“Yeah,” I quickly answer when I hear my father is calling my name.
“Son, try to convince her about the money.”
“You can’t force her, you know,” I say with a laugh.
“She’ll have million dollars in her account as soon as she carries the surname of King,” Atty. Sanders interrupts.
“Oh, God,” she murmurs.
“How do you like to work at 4X4?” I ask, facing her.
She pats her cheeks with the tissue then stares at me. God, those eyes that I’ve seen when she came and those lips I kissed and tasted. I have been dreaming of her mouth wrap around my co—my stupid cock jerks. I groan inwardly.
“I visited once during our field trip.”
“And?”
The two men listen intently to her answer.
“Lately, I was thinking about it when you told me you called the 4X4. I always dream of working there, you know?” Her eyes light up with excitement and pink creeps on her cheek. Cute.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” She nods shyly.
“Then you have to change your surname to King.”
“Why?” She frowns. I know she wants to argue but takes a hold of it.
***
“I’ll just talk to Dad, get inside the Car, Babe,” I tell her as soon as we get into the parking area of the Hughes building that served as the office for Hughes Industries.
I stride towards Dad as soon as Camila gets inside the dark blue Mercedes Benz Dad offers as Camila’s service.
“Dad, wait!”
He’s about to enter his car when he stops.
“Yes, son,” he says calmly. He’s feature softens, but I can see the sadness in those blue orbs.
“She doesn’t hate you, you know. Give her some time, she’s just shocked, and I’ll tell you that she has the softest heart in the world—like Mom. A feisty but has a softer heart.”
Dad smiles that I haven’t seen these days, then suddenly turns into a beast. “Stay away from her, Pyke.”
My brows cock. “The hell I will! You can’t control me anymore. Take that club. I better start from the ground if you will think I owe you because you gave me that club. I’ll stay with her no matter what.” My nostrils are flaring thinking of Camila is out of my sight.
“You’ve been disobeying me lately,” he rebukes.
“Because I can’t see anything I’ve done wrong!”
“Lower your voice, Pyke Kennan!”
“Then stay away from my relationship,” I say firmly.
“How can I stay away if you will just end up hurting her? I’ve hurt her bad, Pyke. Enough one of the Hugheses hurt Camila, and I can’t allow you to do that to her, too.”
“Dad, don’t you think it’s unfair? What makes you think I will hurt her? For Pete’s sake, I’m not you, and I-I like her a lot. Just the thought of hurting her breaks my heart. Just seeing her in pain makes my heart bleeds. Please, just...” I let out a frustrating sigh. “Just let me be with her. I’ve never been like this. She makes me happy, but the funny thing is, she doesn’t even want to go out on a date with me.”
Dad’s face softens, brows arch up. “Does she know something about you, Pyke?”
I know exactly what he means, so I slowly nod. “She didn’t judge me though.” I sigh deeply.
“You didn’t persuade her enough.”
“How?”
“Why are you asking me? But if you will hurt her. I will break your bone, Pyke. Mark my word.” He gets inside the car, leaving me alone with a jaw dropped.
I walk to our car after I regain my composure. Why does everyone want to break my bone when it comes to Camila? Am I that bad for her?
“Hey, you okay?” she asks, grabbing my hand as soon as I sit beside her in the backseat.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I smirk at her. Dad just threatened me.
“You’re weird.” She wrinkles her nose.
“And you’re beautiful,” I say, capturing her lips before she can bark at me. She kisses me back instantly. God, how soft her lips are. I miss my lips between her thighs, too, but I need to take everything slow, and I know I can do it if I can be with her for a long time.
We break our kiss when I hear a clearing of a throat.
“Sorry, Mr. Hughes, Ms. Mendéz, I’m Carter Fitz, Mr. Paul Hughes hired me to be a personal driver of Ms. Mendéz,” he explains. He’s Simon Pegg’s look-alike but taller, military fit body, and younger than Pegg.
“Excuse me?” Camila interrupts, “I don’t need a driver and besides I’m a good driver and never violated traffic laws. The last time I check my license won’t expire tomorrow.”
“To the King’s restaurant please, Fitz.”
“My pleasure, Sir.”
“Wait, wait, Mr. Fitz, did you not hear me?” Camila argues then suddenly her stomach grumbles.
“Babe, I need to feed you.” I laugh making her hit my thigh.
“Not funny.”
I feel the car moves out of the parking lot. There is a King Restaurant not far from here that needs a reservation a month before someone can get a table. Dad will probably be there, too because Hugheses and Kings have private rooms that don’t need to get a reservation. We can request the head chef of what food we want on our plate even not on their menu.
“Welcome, Mr. Hughes,” Janet, the receptionist greets with a huge grin on her face.
“Thank you, Janet. We can manage it from her,” I immediately cut her off because I can feel my woman is rigid beside me.
“Why are we here?” she whispers.
I squeeze her hand tighter. “Your stomach grumbles.”
“I mean why here?”
“Babe, we need to eat, that’s it,” I say as I lead her way inside to the restaurant.
Only the dim yellow lights from the crystal teardrops chandelier illuminate the entire place. The high ceiling is painted with ivory color. The wall is somewhat alloy orange with photographs of King’s from 1st generations who built the hotel and restaurant business empire. The floor is covered with a blood-red carpet with a square shape dahlia red carpet under each table.
“Can we just go somewhere else?”
“Don’t you like it here?” I stop, looking down at her.
“This is intimidating, and the name alone does give me a shiver.” She shrugs and bites her lip.
“We don’t have to sit here,” I reply, gesturing to the room. “We have a place more private just for us.”
“Oh?”
I nod. “Yup, Babe.”
“Okay.”
Releasing her hand, I snake it around her waist and walk to the private lounge when I feel my hair lifts on my nape and arms.
“Well, hello, Pykie.”