Page 4 of Shattered Queens: Veronica
No response. Gee, what a gentleman.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the living room mirror; I’m a mess. There are days that I can’t stand looking at myself. Those are the days when my self-loathing is at its peak. My best days are when I have a full face of makeup on and my outfit is immaculate. Plus, the occasional drink helps. I drag myself into my bedroom to get ready for lunch.
A couple of hours later, my driver pulls up to the restaurant. Fuck, I hate having a driver, and by the looks of him, he doesn’t want to be here either. I can’t fight my family on this, especially after everything I’ve pulled. And based on my current state, I haven’t learned from my mistakes. The SUV comes to a stop in front of a small seafood restaurant, my favorite, but I’m not feeling hungry.
There he is, waiting outside. Looking like he owns the place, and he probably does. If I didn’t dislike him so much, I would admit that he’s very handsome. He might fool my mother with his charm, but not me. Maybe that’s why he and my brothers are friends. They’re all assholes with a god complex, and they can all hurt others without remorse.
He approaches my door, but I don’t give him the chance to open it. Stepping out of the car, I feel the summer heat on my face. I take a deep breath before I face him. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m an expert in putting myself together after a rough night. There were hundreds of times when I attended an event after a night of partying or while still on something. The only exceptions are when my family is in attendance. They can see right through me. I’d rather not suffer the wrath of the Kaydes.
Looking at Cam, I’m already regretting my decision, but I need a fresh start. And I’m not delusional; I have money, but I didn’t earn it. I’ve never had a job, and I’ve never had to look for a place to live. I may not move into a luxury apartment, but it will be something for me.
“Hello, Chaos.”
Great, now he’s given me a fucking nickname, and I hate it as much as I hate him. God, I just want to punch him in his perfectly symmetrical face. “Hello, Fuckface.” I see him smile, not at all surprised by my outburst, so I take a deep breath but don’t correct myself.
“Well, how about we get this meeting started?” He moves to open the restaurant door for me and gestures for me to enter.
“What a gentleman,” I say as I walk past him.
“Let’s go with that.” He smirks.
“More like a wolf in sheep's clothing, then?” Cam may be a monster in disguise, but I doubt he does the dirty work himself. He looks like he’s just walked out of a high-fashion magazine; everything on his body is perfectly tailored and in place. But his attitude—you’d think there was a stick up his ass. “And why that nickname?”
He grins. “Because that's all you do. You create chaos for those around you," he says. The nickname is a statement of fact rather than an insult. I stop and look at him. He’s enjoying pushing my buttons. I need to remember why I’m here. Finally seated, I waste no time.
“Cam, why are you doing this?”
“Chaos, as I said, anything for your mother.”
“She didn’t ask you to help me.”
“You’re right, she didn’t. I offered. I’ve known her for years, and she’s always been kind to me. So, if I can assist her spoiled brat of a daughter, so be it.”
I’ve been called worse, so like all the other times, I put my armor up, ready to spar. “Listen, I didn’t come here so you can call me condescending nicknames or for you to flaunt your self-righteousness. Plenty of people do that with me already.”
“You’re right. Let’s order some food and get down to business.”
The waitress comes to take our order, but she’s so enthralled by the man sitting in front of me that she barely looks my way when taking my order.Desperate. I order a small seafood salad and a gin and tonic. When the food arrives, I take a couple of bites but disregard the rest and focus on my drink.
“Would you like something else?” he asks as he eyes my food and finished drink.
“No, I ate before I came,” I lie. I hate eating in front of others. It makes me feel like everyone around me is scrutinizing me and looking at my body. “Let’s get down to business.” I’m irritated.
“There really isn’t much to discuss. I have a vacant apartment that needs someone to move in as soon as possible. It’s not a penthouse, but it’s in a safe neighborhood, beautiful view of the city, and it isn’t something owned by your family.”
“But you own it, and you’re close to them,” I retort.
He takes a drink of water and leans back. “They are less likely to post a guard outside your door.”
I play with a strand of my long blonde hair. It’s a self-soothing habit I do when processing a thought or I’m feeling anxious.
“You know I don’t like you,” I say without hesitation.
“Well, the feeling is mutual. Listen, it’s a business transaction. Either you want it or you don’t. And let me be frank with you, Veronica. You are a spoiled rich girl who’s used to a certain lifestyle. What I’m offering is the best you’re going to get. Take it or leave it.”
“I can probably find a better place somewhere else?” I feign indifference.
“Maybe. The best-case scenario is that your family will back off. And you get what you’re so desperate for: to be your own person and to be free. Whatever the hell that means. Worst case, based on your track record, you’ll be in some ivory tower with guards, daydreaming of escaping your overprotective family.”
