Camila's POV
"How's your salmon, Karla?" Austin questioned me in a polite tone which almost made me gag. "If it isn't poached correctly I could always send it back-"
"No, it's fine," I flashed the most fake smile I could mask on to cover up my pounding headache and then instantly returned my focus back onto my expensive meal.
Ever since Austin's singing career didn't flourish the way he had hoped it to, he had achieved his father's old company and was now the recognizable CEO of a building management company. Due to his high-class level, Austin was invited out constantly to discuss deals and other future events with other old, prosperous businessmen — along with their teenage looking wives who were only bonded to the men for life because of economic reasons.
Once I was released from the hospital for the weekend, my overbearing husband had seized the opportunity and dragged me along to one of the fanciest restaurants in the area; where I thought we were going to enjoy a delectable dinner as a couple. Instead I was faced with the truth of this being just another meeting where Austin could basically show me off like an award winning trophy or, in other cases, use me to keep the other suited man's wife occupied as they discussed secretive deals.
"Are you alright?" The newest woman that was still unknown to me was seated across my position at the decorated dinner table. As the words were questioned from her lips, she started to wave her hand aimlessly in front of me to grab my attention.
"What? Oh," my cheeks flushed lightly in embarrassment once my mind retraced itself back to the real world. "Sorry I'm not feeling so great tonight."
"This restaurant doesn't have the finest cooks in the world," she leaned forward in attempt to keep the remark to a whisper, her blonde curls dangling over her shoulders gently during the action. "Maybe it's food poisoning?"
"Actually, I was discharged for the weekend from St. Peter's Hospital yesterday," I confirmed with a slight release of a chuckle. "It's probably just the painkillers doing their job."
"That makes so much more sense!" The Blonde rose her voice and straightened her posture right up in success, but immediately slumped back down once her sugar daddy of a husband gave her a disapproving glance that wasn't so subtle. She carefully veered forward again before continuing, "I don't want to be rude, but if the pounds of makeup on your face was turned into food- we could save all the kids in Africa."
"Shit," I carelessly cursed and eyed my surroundings cautiously until I replied to the woman, "Is it really that bad?"
"I'm a make-up artist," she clarified as we made direct eye contact; I suddenly noticed the amount of comfort that was pouring from her hazel eyes and her assuring words. "It's only noticeable to me, honey. I promise." She reached her hand outwards and clasped onto the neck of an almost empty wine glass, "But, if I may ask, why so much? Is it to impress" -she slightly tilted her heads in the direction of Austin who was blabbering away- "him?"
"It's to cover up some minor injuries," I smiled lightly at her concerned frown that came from my response. "Don't worry it's nothing life-threatening..."
"Grace," she completed my drifting sentence with her own formal name and then took a long sip of her alcoholic drink.
"Camila," I answered for Grace as her lips remained on the glass, unable to ask for my name in return. Once the woman with lighter hair finished off her drink she had waved our waiter for another. Then she folded her hands together on top of the delicate cloth and stared at me in an interested manner.
I kept myself together as a few moments passed and Grace still hadn't uttered a word. Being polite was one of the top priorities to obtain when going out with Austin and it was a characteristic I had never broken, but this woman seemed different; almost as if she was testing me. The waiter had eventually returned with another cupful of red wine and positioned it right in front of the gawking woman. I had to admit that it was starting to bug me now. So I did what I could do: I spoke up.
"I-Is there something wrong?"
"You don't love him," she abruptly spoke up which had taken me back quite a bit.
"What do you-.. How could you say that?" I rephrased my question with a soft tone and furrowed eyebrows in determination. "He's my husband!"
"Camila, I'm turning forty in a couple of months. Do you know how many times Lance has actually decided to romantically touch me or spill about how much he loves me in our fifteen years of marriage?" She pushed on, her hands unfolding and sticking like magnets to her sides. "Twice. Three times if I end up getting a lucky birthday gift this year. How many times has your husband done that for you?"
Her question really faltered on my decision in defending my husband. He did say something about love in the hospital the past day, but that memory breezed through my mind carelessly.
"Oh come on, honey," Austin had linked his fingers with mine quickly in an unreadable tone. "You know you love me."
He hadn't technically said anything about him loving me, but only about my passionate feelings towards him. Grace must've noticed how unexpectedly my facial expression had changed because in an instant I had felt her warm hand caressing my right palm that was placed by my eating utensils.
"You're young. You have a choice," she explained more thoroughly with a tiny grin. "Choose your own life and don't let anyone, especially this random man, tell you how things are suppose to be done. I can see it in there," Grace patted the top of my hand gently. "You love someone very deeply. Maybe it's the guy sitting next you right now or maybe it's not. Whomever it is, just go for them."
Before I could thank the wise woman, Austin's booming voice had made both of us jump from our comforting actions.
"Our server is bringing back our check, Karla, so we're going to head back home now. Although, Lance here has offered to pay for our meal tonight," Austin slowly told me as if I couldn't understand anything properly.
"Thank you," I thanked the older man kindly as I rose up from my seat and patted down the somewhat fancy black dress that I had dressed in for the night. The outfit dropped below my knees and stayed pin-straight. Along with the simple black heels, I looked like I was heading out for a night at the office.
My suited husband started to exit the restaurant in a triumphal manner with myself trailing behind him. Turning back around enough to get a small glimpse at the blonde woman who was rising from her seating, I instantly knew that this was going to be the last time I would ever see her.
*
Austin's act seemed to fade right as we had left the community area. He posture seemed a lot more tense and his appearance no longer carried a welcoming smile. I didn't have any intention to ask what was bothering him as we pulled into the parking lot of our new apartment complex that held many familiar faces.
After the fire incident, the company that had owned the building had managed to slip a few of their top paying residents into a partnering complex where a couple of apartments were available. Of course it was a bit unfair, but that wasn't really all I had cared about. What really bothered me for some reason was that a certain someone that I used to see all the time had vanished. Who knew where she was?
Once I had endured Austin mumbling and cursing all the way through the parking lot, and also through the lobby and up the square conveyor, I knew I had to say something.
"Okay, what's up?" I asked the brunette while we departed the elevator. "Did Lance say something you didn't like? Or was it your food? We could always put in an anonymous complaint on their website-"
"You know what it fucking was!" Austin surprised me by shouting his reply directly in my face with the assistance of a pointing finger. "Besides, you were the one who did it!"
"Me? What the hell did I do?" I narrowed my darkened pupils at the ballistic man who seemed to have no idea what he was talking about.
"You just had to get Grace worked up about something!" Austin complained while his fists curled up and turned his knuckles pure white right by his complexion.
"What are you talking about, Austin?! Grace and I were getting along completely well the entire night!"
"Well whatever you said got her all excited then!" He corrected himself before going on with his complaint that had caused this absurd outburst. "Lance decided to end the night earlier then he had planned, all because of you! I could've worked out one of the biggest deals of all time, Karla, but you fucking destroyed it!"
"This makes no sense-"
"We could have been in a better home if I had made this deal, Karla! But of course you have to ruin everything so it can go your way, like always."
"Excuse me?" My jaw basically dropped at his last sentence. "Okay, first of all, my name is not fucking Karla! You've known from the very beginning that I've had hated that name, but yet you still call me it! Second, this is fucking ridiculous reason on why you're so angry! You have gotten so many business agreements before and I don't see how this one can be so much more important than all the—"
Austin lunged forward and had tightened his grip on the fabric that was laid out on my chest. He had suddenly bashed me against the divider that was between two separate elevator, just barley missing the control panel. The rough impact had affected my healing back in a painful manner; sending a shock throughout my spine. A small sob escaped off my tongue and that only lead to the abusive man to slam me against the wall once again.
"We're going to go inside our apartment," he hissed in a whisper, twisting the dress fiber carelessly which allowed the outfit to ride up slowly. "And you're going to shut the fuck up. No one talks back to me with such disrespect, especially my own wife. You have nothing without me, you're fucking worthless without me."
"You listen good and you listen closely. If you tell anyone about what just happened in the past minutes, I'll make sure to harm every single person that you care for. We're married and our bond cannot be broken. You're Karla Mahone, not fucking Camilla Cabello."
I took a deep breath as I felt my knees buckling beneath my own body weight, "It's Camila you fucking dip shit."
Closing my eyes in preparation for Austin to officially shut off the lights in my mind, a sudden feminine voice spoke up on my behalf.
"Hurt her again. I dare you."
[A/N] hello, yes, it's been a while.
I apologize about the wait guys, and I'm sorry to say that if I want to continue this story (which I do) there may some waiting periods. Patience is the key to a happy life so please keep your cool and I'll have the next part updated within the next two weeks or so (maybe one). hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope that no one is loosing interest in this story- because shit is about to get real.
questions are always welcomed in my pm or in the comments, but there's no promising that i'll answer them. xoxo - lil