Faking It | Wattys 2022

Chapter 3

"Camila, the numbers are off the charts. You'd be a fool to think we aren't signing these papers today." He said confidently, passing her one of his Cuban cigars.

She politely declined his offer, opting to stick with her whiskey instead. "I'm glad to hear that, Jeffrey. I just want you to look over everything one last time to make sure it's tailored to your liking."

"Nonsense, I trust you," Jeffrey gestured for his assistant to bring a pen over. "You're about to make Cabello Industries the biggest arms dealer in the entire world."

"And that's what I like to hear," she extended her hand out to him as he scribbled his signature across the dotted line before giving her hand a firm grip and shake.

"You know what I like about you, Cabello? You get what you want, and you don't care about anyone else or the consequences. Now that, is what I like to see in this industry."

She gave him a half-lipped smile—knowing that he was gonna keep talking her ear off until their little meeting was over. "I'm glad to know that you're just excited as I am to expand our partnership. I hope we can continue this over the years."

"So, Camila, tell me your plans." He leaned back into the chair, taking a drag from his cigar. "Where do you see Cabello Industries in ten years?"

"I'm hoping with the new wave of employees we're vetting, we'll be one step closer to making nanotechnology more accessible for our military defenses."

"Nanotechnology? Shooting for the stars now, aren't we?" Jeffrey slapped his knee, cackling while Camila just stared at him with a poker face. "Don't look at me like that, Cabello. Come on, we both know something like that can't be done by just one company."

The dark-haired woman clenched her jaw, her grip tightening around the tumbler glass. "I'm sure you know better than to underestimate our company, Mr. Colson."

Who the fuck does he think he is? She could feel herself getting angrier the longer she was around this piece of shit.

"Well, I'll be more than excited to see what you and your father will come up with."

She didn't bother saying anything back, her temper teetering on the edge. The rest of dinner carried on without many conversations between them—their co-workers doing most of the talking for them.

"Excuse me," Camila said politely before heading on a trip to find the bathroom. While passing by a few tables, she noticed Lauren sitting alone at one of them. "Lauren?"

The professor looked up from the iPad in her hand, her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. "Can I help you?"

"What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like?" Lauren placed her glasses down by one of the plates. "Normani recommended their ceviche and I just couldn't resist. And you?"

"Business," Camila answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She preferred home-cooked meals over fancy crab legs and oysters. "Look, about last weekend..."

"Let's not talk about it," Lauren interrupted her. "I would prefer if you didn't tell anyone about it either."

"I don't talk to anybody from high school. I just ran into Dinah by chance."

"So, why are you talking to me?"

Camila smiled. "Can I not talk to a pretty woman sitting alone in a restaurant?"

"You're unbearable," the raven-haired woman put her glasses back on. "If you're going to keep bothering me, at least tell those weirdos you're with to stop looking at me."