*CAMILLA’S POV.*
I stood in front of the mirror.
My reflection stared back at me.
I no longer recognized that woman in the glass, so far from who I used to be.
The modest dress, soft curls framing my face, an innocent smile; all this was a costume.
But necessary.
I needed to play that part tonight.
And that meant being a compliant little girl in front of Tom and his family, perhaps even more so in front of my own father.
“Cam, we have to go,” my father yelled from the hallway.
I took a deep breath, ready for what was inevitable.
Tonight wasn’t just a dinner, but a performance, and I should darn well make sure I played my part to perfection.
I went down the stairs, and he looked back with that cold look of his.
But he said nothing, and that expectation hung between us there, an unseen anchor.
I followed him wordlessly out to the car, my heart racing at the thought of having to face Tom, my stomach somersaulting with every thought of him.
The ride to the Lockwood mansion was dead silent.
I stared out the window, my mind reeling inside.
Each second in that car felt deeper in my doom.
The Lockwoods were waiting, waiting for their dear pawn, and I couldn’t help but wonder how it came to this.
If Dante hadn’t come back into my life, would I have accepted that fate?
We pulled up in front of this mansion of an estate that screamed at everything that I so despised about Tom and his family: the money, the power, the ability to put people like me in line with a snap of their fingers.
I smiled, looking happy, while images in my mind rushed back to the taste of bile in the back of my throat.
Tom welcomed us, wearing his usual smug expression.
His piercing brown eyes found mine in an instant, and a shiver ran down my spine.
“Camilla,” he said smoothly, the curl of his lips rising in a smile that seemed to crawl under my skin.
“You look lovely.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice light and airy, my eyes downcast.
I needed to be a doll and an obedient girl tonight.
Tom proffered his arm, and what was I going to do but take it?
The clasp was firm, possessive as if he was staking a claim on me.
The dining room was precisely as over-the-top as I remembered, the fortune kind present that might overwhelm a girl with its existence.
But there, seated, I felt the weight of Tom’s family eyes on me, eyes that watched and judged, weighed me up.
The conversation started off innocently enough, business, trifles, but it was not long before Tom showed his true colors.
“You wouldn’t believe the incompetence I’ve been putting up with lately,” Tom said, his disgust coating every word.
He looked at me with expectation in his eyes, awaiting some form of admiration from me.
I smiled forcibly so that screaming inside would not surface.
All the conceitedness, the callousness, it all came back to me in a rush, memories of how he had treated me in my past life.
How he took everything away from me bit by bit until nothing was left.
“Pity for them,” I said in a low, constraining tone that somehow managed to spill over into my tone.
“They should’ve known better than to cross me,” Tom concluded, smirking as if proud of his ways of ruthlessness.
“Business isn’t for the weak.”
I felt my father’s eyes across the table on me, his approving eyes.
Proud, too, proud that I was being married off to a man like Tom, a man who could secure his position in the world of power and influence.
The fact made my stomach turn.
One course succeeded another; a minute, or more, I laughed when I ought, and nodded when it was incumbent; but internally I was either dying of fear or wishing myself anywhere but there, out of this bondage that had taken my liberty.
After dinner, Tom said, “Let’s take a night walk on the grounds.” I didn’t really have much of an option but to agree, though my tummy was twisting with the idea of being in his company, away from everybody else.
We walked a bit longer in silence, the cool night air doing little for the storm brewing inside of me.
Tom’s hand was possessively on my back, the touch searing into the fabric of my dress.
I wanted to pull away, but not yet.
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he finally noticed, his voice low.
“Nervous about the wedding?
I forced a smile, looking at him.
“A little, I suppose.”
His eyes darkened, and he stopped and turned to me fully.
“You’ll be a good wife, won’t you, Camilla? You’ll know your place.”
There it was.
The control, the dominance.
It was all bubbling to the surface now, and I could see as clear as day how he viewed me, not as a person but as a possession, a prize that he pulled out.
“I’ll do as I’m told,” I answer with hardly any audible volume of my voice.
Tom’s fingers dig into my skin, his grip on me tightening.
He looks unnerving as I force myself to feel cold, “You better. I won’t stand for disobedience. Not from you.”
My heartbeat quickens, and beneath the surface, my anger churns in a simmer, but I push it down.
I have to, for there’s nothing left anymore to fall on If I slip now.
I went back to the mansion and excused myself, saying I was tired.
As I walked away, I could feel Tom’s eyes on me, the weight of his command upon my shoulders.
I hated him, hated it.
Yet, knowing I had to play along, at least for the time being.
The minute I was in a car with John, the minute it started to crack.
The facade of civility started breaking down; the anger began to rise, and helplessness clawed at the inside of me.
Finally home, I stormed into my room, slamming the door shut behind me.
I needed a moment to breathe and collect myself.
Literally, just as I was about to drop into bed, my phone buzzed.
It was from Dante.
My heart literally leaped into action, and cold words stared back at me.
*I’m working on it.
Don’t worry I’ll come through.*
That’s what he had to say?
That’s all he’d say after I’d been waiting, trusting him to save me, and he sent some half-hearted promise?
A wave of panic washed over me, cold.
What if Dante didn’t pull through?
What if he was too late?
I stared at the message, my chest tighter.
The wedding was just weeks away; time was running out, and I couldn’t afford to wait anymore.
I would have to take things into my own hands.
How could I elope with Jasper and just disappear?
And then, in a flash of genius, A plan leaping to the front of my mind.
It was risky and hazardous, but it was all I had.
I would have to flee.
And I would have to do it soon.
For the time being, though, none suspected what I had in mind.
I had to keep the charade going.
A knock at the door jerked me from my reverie.
“Camilla?” my father’s voice called from the other side.
“Are you quite all right?”
I took a deep breath, forcing calm into my voice.
“Yes, Father. I’m just tired.”
“Good,” he said.
“We have much to discuss tomorrow. The wedding approaches quickly.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling into my chest.
“Yes,” I returned, my voice barely more than audible.
“I know.”
I returned to my thoughts.
But would Dante show up in time to save me, or would this have to be my own escape?