Chapter 37

Shay-Lee

"You look hot," I said while eye-fucking Camilo as he climbed into my Pagani.

"Yeah, it's part of the job." He smirked, then grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into a short yet hot kiss.

I tried to go in for another one when he stopped me by pointing at the time on the dashboard.

"We're going to be late." He gave me an amused smile.

Yesterday, he'd surprised me by suggesting that we go on a date. To say I was excited would be an understatement.

"You suck," I huffed and started driving.

"I thought you loved it when I did that. After all, you came so fast."

I slammed on the brakes, nearly crashing into the car in front of us, distracted by his comment. My cheeks flushed when I turned to look at him. "Th-that's bullshit, and you know it."

He smirked. "Eyes on the road, kitten. You know I was just messing with you."

Still smitten by the kitten comment, I cleared my throat. "For the record, I only came fast because I was surprised that day."

"Sure you were."

"I mean it—"

"Ah, shit," he suddenly hissed.

"What's wrong?" I took my eyes off the road for a quick second, seeing him checking his pockets for something.

"I think I left my phone at the club," he explained, rechecking his pouch, too. "Shit."

"Want me to go back?" I was already searching the road to see where I could make a U-turn.

"We'll be late for the show. I'll just drop by when we're done."

"Sure about that?"

"Yes, Llorón." He palmed my nape and gave me a slight squeeze. "Just focus on getting us there alive. With your driving skills, it would take a fucking miracle."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean? I'm an amazing driver."

He snorted. "You're almost hitting 100 miles per hour in a 50."

I pulled my shoulders. "I'm just a fast driver."

"More like a lousy driver."

"Fuck off," I barked.

Camilo pointed out the yellow traffic light I just passed. "You crossed red."

"Bullshit. That was yellow."

He laughed. "In what world was this bright crimson yellow?"

"In my world, dumbass."

We went on and on about what a terrific driver I was until we reached the theater. It was already full, but we managed to find a parking spot.

"Look at you." Camilo whistled as I climbed out of the car and buttoned my suit jacket.

"What? I've never been to a ballet show before, so I assumed I needed to look classy." I tried playing it cool despite spending half the day picking what to wear. I ended up going for a light gray Armani suit.

Camilo leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I can't wait to take it off you," he whispered, then squeezed my ass before quickly removing his hand and shoving it into his pocket. The brief interaction made my skin heat and my heart race, so to calm myself down, I focused on his clothes. He looked freaking hot, with a pair of baggy jeans that sat low on his narrow hips and a matching short-sleeved denim shirt he wore on top of a white tank top. He also had a few rings on his thick fingers and silver chains around his neck.

After we got the program from the usher, we were led to our seats. I didn't know a thing about choosing seats for the ballet, so I went straight for the private balconies. Those were the types of seats my father always chose when he took me to the opera, and I assumed ballet worked the same way.

I had expected to be bored out of my mind. Sitting for two long hours in the dark while looking at men wearing tutus wasn't ranked highly on my list of favorite activities. I wished Camilo was into some good old American football. But as we sat down and Camilo whispered to me a low "thank you," I knew I would do it all over again if given the chance. The excitement that shone in his eyes once the lights went off and the music started was priceless, and it shifted something inside of me. A few months ago, I would've been surprised to learn someone like Diesel enjoyed ballet, but not today. A sense of possessiveness overtook me, emerging with a sense of pride that I got to know the real him.

I tangled our fingers and smiled to myself. If he enjoyed this show, next time, I would take him to one in London or maybe Paris. I wanted to travel around the world with him, and for the first time in my life, I saw myself having a future with someone. The realization nearly had me gasping for air, but I wasn't afraid. Camilo made me feel safe enough to hope for another future—one that wasn't as painful and full of despair. A future of sunlight. A future I wanted and, for some reason, could picture so clearly.

"Is everything okay?" Camilo whispered, grazing the side of my cheek with the back of his fingers.

Swallowing hard, I nodded. "Yeah," I whispered back, the word barely a breath. "I'm just trying to understand what's happening."

Camilo probably thought I was referring to the show, so he began explaining the story, not realizing I was talking about us. About me. About the fact that I was pretty sure I was falling in love with him. It scared me because what the fuck did I even know about love? Nothing. But knowing me, I would probably ruin it as I ruined everything. I was a fucking failure that kept ruining good things. Now, worked up with those thoughts, I could hardly pay attention to the show. Cold sweat covered my skin, and I bit the inside of my cheek, doing my best not to catch Camilo's attention. After all, this wasn't about me, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin his evening.

"You didn't enjoy the show?" Camilo asked once we were outside.

I looked up from the ground and turned to face him. "Why would you think that?"

He offered me a slight smile. "You looked like you were somewhere else the entire time. Was it that boring?"

Shaking my head, I quirked my lips. "Not at all. I was just busy trying to figure out if all those male dancers were packing or if they shoved something down their pants."

Camilo looked at me with a raised eyebrow, clearly not buying my weak attempt at changing the subject. He then grabbed my hand and moved to stand before me.

"What's going on? I thought you wanted to go on a date."

"Of course I did."

"So why do you look like you're forced to be here?"

I tucked my bottom lip underneath my teeth and shook my head. "It's not that… I just don't want it to end."

Camilo chuckled, the sound so warm it filled my stomach with fucking butterflies, then lifted my chin so our eyes met.

"End? We're only just getting started." He leaned forward, closed the distance between us, and kissed me.

Not giving a fuck that others could see us, he slipped his tongue between my parted lips and drank in my low moans while softly caressing my jaw with his thumbs. The intimacy was enough to put me at ease, and when he pulled back, I ached for the loss of his touch.

"Don't look at me with those eyes." He smiled, his hand still resting against my cheeks.

"What eyes?"

"Eyes that are begging me to strip you naked and fuck you right here for anyone to see."

Once again, I found myself blushing like some idiot. I wasn't used to reacting this way to people. I was usually the one to say things that put others in shock, but not with Camilo. When it came to him, I was the one left speechless.

Camilo pulled me into a tight hug, his big arms squeezing me to his chest. God, I loved having his warm body wrapped around me.

He lowered his head, his lips brushing my ear. "Don't worry, Llorón. I am going to fuck you tonight." He bit my lobe. "Slow and hard. I'll pound you until you're nothing but a needy mess, dripping with my cum."

My cock stiffened as my heart beat so fast I could hear the blood pounding in my ears.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, kitten?"

My hands held on to his jacket as I nodded, my head rubbing against his chest in the process. "Yes."

"Good." His fingers moved up and down my back, slowly tracing my spine over the fabric of my suit. "But first, we're going to eat. I'm starving."

I ignored my cock, which was half-hard, thanks to him, and cleared my throat. "I want sushi."

"That's random."

"And ramen."

"We'd better get you ramen, then."

"Then hot chocolate and crepes for dessert."

Pulling back, he narrowed his eyes at me. "Where do you plan to shove all of that?"

I grinned. "Did you really just ask me that?"

Even though I had insisted on taking Camilo to my favorite Japanese restaurant, he refused and took me to a place just outside of Little Tokyo. It wasn't an area I was familiar with, so he led the way until we arrived at a tiny-ass shop that was packed with people. Thankfully, we managed to get a corner table and sat down. After ordering half the menu, we went back to talking about the show.

"So, are they like, super famous? Rock-band kind of famous?" I asked once Camilo had finished telling me that the ballet company we'd seen tonight was originally based in New York but were on a worldwide tour.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say a rock band, but they're definitely famous in the dancing world. The principal dancer—"

"Principal dancer?" I took a sip from my drink.

"That's the lead dancer. Imagine a team captain or a, let's say, quarterback?"

"Now you're talkin'." I grinned, and he snorted a laugh.

"So if we use football as an analogy, the principal dancer of this group is a rising star. One hundred percent a first-round draft pick kind of star."

First draft? That was impressive. "So basically, like myself, but as a dancer."

"If you say so."

I rounded my napkin into a small ball and tossed it at him. "I'm a damn good player, you dipshit."

"Yeah, yeah." He pretended to look elsewhere before side-eyeing me, and we both laughed.

"So are you a fan of that dancer?" A tiny bit of jealousy flared, considering how handsome that dancer was. I might know shit about ballet, but I was an expert when it came to gorgeous men, and that lead dancer, or whatever he was called, was fucking perfect. With platinum-blond hair, a sculpted face, and a body you'd go to war over. Yeah, no wonder they picked him to be the lead.

"Is that jealousy I sense?"

I rolled my eyes. "As if. Now, answer my question."

Snorting, he shook his head. "I'm a fan of his work and talent, not his looks. The guy's around our age, and he's already performed on the biggest stages in the world."

"Does this young phenomenon have a name?" I asked, circling the top of the bottle with the tip of my finger.

"Lexus Lloyd."

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. "That's a stupid name. Anyway, I've had enough talking about Alexy Lloyd."

"Lexus."

"I don't give a fuck."

Camilo laughed, then nudged my knee under the table. "You're so obvious."

He took a sip from his drink as I shrugged. "Maybe, but who cares? I'm the only guy you're allowed to be obsessed with."

Putting down his soda bottle, he nodded. "You are."

Satisfied, I clapped my hands. "Let's play a game."

Camilo's face twisted in displeasure, fed up with my shit, and I loved it.

He sighed. "Another one of your games?"

"Come on." I tapped the table. "It'll be fun."

"Fine." He slid down on his seat and stretched his long legs forward. Our table was too small, making our legs bump repeatedly.

"Tell me five things I don't know about you."

"Do I have to?"

Kicking his leg under the table, I urged him. "Shut up and start."

"Fine. Let's see." He rubbed his jaw. "I'm scared of flying."

"Seriously?" I cut in.

"Yeah."

My brows knitted close as I looked at him. "How so?"

"What if I get a heart attack on the plane?"

I waved my hand in the direction of his smokes resting on the table. "You smoke a pack a day, and that's what you're scared of? A heart attack on a fucking plane?"

Camilo's jaw tensed. Haha. I was getting on his nerves.

"They can also crash, okay? It's a metal box that weighs too much. It should be impossible for it to fly." He sounded defensive.

"Wait until we fly in my private jet. Then you won't be so afraid of it."

"Private planes crash, too," he said bitterly. "Anyway, are you going to let me finish? Or are you going to keep interrupting?"

I chuckled because sometimes Camilo was too cute.

"Go on, I'll keep my mouth zipped."

He eyed me suspiciously. "I doubt you can, but fine." He sighed. "I used to be a soccer fan, but not so much anymore. I tried to quit smoking three times but have failed miserably. There were times I thought I'd be a choreographer, but that seems impossible now, and this is the first date I've ever been on."

Wow… Just wow.

"Why does being a choreographer seem impossible?" I asked.

Rolling his shoulders, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "It's too far-fetched. I mean, look at my record, at what I do now… the chances for me to be something different are…" He didn't finish his words, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're already something," I said firmly. "You're crazy talented, Camilo. The best dancer I've ever seen."

He faked a smile. "You mean, a lap dancer?"

"That's bullshit. I've seen you perform. You're absolutely amazing, and if you pursue a professional career in dancing, I'll be there to help you." I knew names, producers who worked with pop stars, and whatnot. I could text them right now—

"What are you doing?" he asked, putting his hand on my phone, which I had just pulled out of my pocket.

"I'm going to text someone I know. Maybe he can… Hey!" I whined when he stole my phone and placed it beside him. "What the fuck?"

"I appreciate the offer and will keep it in mind, but not tonight. Okay?"

Pouting my lips, I nodded. "Fine."

"Good."

"So this is your first date?" I asked, moving the subject forward. My voice couldn't have been more self-satisfied.

"How about you tell me five things about yourself now?"

I shook my head, took a sip from my drink, and cleared my throat. "Nah, I'd much rather hear about how your first date is going. Ouch!" I yelped and laughed as he stepped on my foot. "You're so violent. Save some of that for later, will ya?"

He groaned, but at the same time, his smile slipped. He just couldn't resist me. Smitten, I placed my hand over his and twisted our fingers together. "Let's see, five things about me. I hate cilantro. I'm terrified of reptiles, like, absolutely petrified."

"Really?" he jumped in. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Because they're all slippery and cold." I poked my tongue out while a shiver ran through me. "What else? I'd love to continue playing football, and if not, I'd like to do something in fashion."

Just then, our food arrived. We said nothing until our server left. Taking my chopsticks, I checked out the dishes. Everything looked absolutely amazing.

"How do you know this place?" I asked while stuffing my mouth with a dumpling that was to die for. I closed my eyes and moaned like I'd just got my dick sucked.

"Easy there, kitten, or you'll make people jealous," Camilo said.

"Fuck people. Those dumplings are orgasmic."

"Orgasmic, huh?"

I opened my eyes to Camilo giving me a knowing look. I had no doubt he had naughty thoughts in that gorgeous head of his.

"So, football is not a promising career?" he asked.

I shook my head as I placed some tempura rolls on my plate. "My dad isn't a fan, so probably not."

"Does he want you to take over his business?"

I snorted. "No way in hell. He doesn't want me anywhere near his business. My dad would rather die before giving me the tiniest shred of control. He's probably planning to create some fake title for me just for the sake of it and to keep me away from his dynasty." Realizing what I'd just said, I looked up to find Camilo staring at me with pinched brows and a tensed jaw.

Shit.

"It's not like I'm interested in it, anyway, so it's fine," I muttered. "Here, taste this. It's seaweed salad." I held my chopsticks to his lips, waiting for him to take a bite. Once he did, I smiled at him like a complete idiot. "Good, right?" I asked as he swallowed.

Irritation crossed his eyes for a split second before he nodded. "Okay, fifth fact. What's the last thing I need to know about you?"

Pressing my lips together, I took a moment to think. What could I share with him that I hadn't so far? A lot would be the answer. There were still so many things I couldn't bring myself to say out loud. Shame was my prison, and fear was my chains. But tonight wasn't about that. Tonight was about Camilo and me, and I wanted him to know that.

"My last fact would be… that I don't want tonight to end."

Camilo's eyes softened as he gave me a small smile that he reserved only for me. "Good, because it's not about to," he said, then bumped his knee with mine.

It was unbelievable how he always knew what to say. I could thrive on his affection and survive decades in his comfort.

"I'll be back in five minutes, then we'll drive to Kai's."

"Take your time," I told Camilo right before he got out of the car and closed the door. I watched as he ran up the stairs leading to the club's back entrance and entered it. Since he'd forgotten his phone, we quickly stopped here so he could pick it up.

Grabbing my own phone, I opened the first app that popped on my screen and scrolled, brainlessly passing the time while waiting. Before I knew it, the door opened and shut.

"That was fast," I said, peeling my eyes off the screen and ready to start the car when I froze.

"Not fast enough," Orson smirked, making himself comfortable on the passenger seat. Shifting the rearview mirror, he checked his reflection. "Seems like I need to shave, don't you agree?" he asked, moving his hand over his nearly clean-shaven jaw.

"W-what are you doing here?" I hissed once I found my voice again. My whole body felt like a bundle of nerves, making me choke on my words.

"You mean, here as in your car or here as in the sex club you've been attending way too many times if you'd ask me." His rotten eyes moved to scan me viciously.

My skin ran cold, and I couldn't move.

"Oh, you thought we wouldn't find out? How foolish of you. But hey, I'm not here to lecture you. I'm just the messenger." He grinned wickedly. "It's about time for you to go home, Shay-Lee."

I shook my head, my lips trembling as I spat out a weak no.

"No?" Orson laughed and patted his leg. "He tells me no." He pretended to wipe his tears, then grabbed my shoulder and leaned close. "How about that," he said and pulled a gun out, pressing the cold muzzle to my lips, nearly shoving it into my mouth. "If you don't drive home right now, I'll put a bullet in the head of the next person who steps outside." Moving the gun from me, he pointed it at the door Camilo had entered a few minutes ago. "Got it?"

Biting my lips together so hard I tasted blood, I nodded.

"You're such a good boy." He grabbed my jaw and darted his tongue out to lick the side of my face. His disgusting tongue slowly moved from my jawline all the way up to my temple. My body shrank from repulsion and fear.

"God, you're so delicious," he groaned, his voice sickening. "Can't wait for the day I'll finally get to have a real taste." With that, he let go and opened the car's door.

I didn't move until he was out and we no longer shared the same breathing space.

"Clock is ticking, Shay-Lee," he said and shut the door.

My heart beat so fast I was about to pass out, but I couldn't. No matter how frightened I was, I had to hold myself together. Camilo could step out any moment now. Knowing that, I clenched the gear stick with shaking fingers and forced it into drive before pushing the gas and driving off.

What a fucking idiot I was to believe tonight was anything more than a short escape from the cruelty I called my life.

And I was sure my father was about to prove me right.