Mistress (Camren)

Chapter 1

Camila's POV

"Anyway, I was out with my girlfriends the other day and my sweet little Petunia comes over after her violin lesson..." I was trying so hard not to roll my eyes at whatever the hell this bitch was going on about. I hated these parties so fucking much, I'd rather drink a gallon of bleach. Not even kidding.

"More wine, Mrs. Cabello?" one of the waiters approached me from the side.

"Oh, please," I instantly took a glass, almost downing the whole thing in seconds. "Thank you, James."

"My pleasure," he nodded sweetly before walking away. Aw, I loved him. He was one of our dearest, most kind waiters. None of our staff was ever appreciated as much as they should have been. That was going to change soon.

"Ciao, mi cara," my husband, Giorgio, suddenly followed next. "It's getting late."

"Finally," I grumbled under my breath, taking off my annoying heels.

"Oh, hello, Giorgio! Lovely party," a woman in the circle that I was in smiled. I clearly didn't remember her name and clearly didn't care to.

"Glad you enjoyed, Mrs. Waldorf," my husband shook her hand as well as all the other ladies. Of course he did that.

"Okay, let's get a move on, dear?" I falsely grinned at him before taking his arm to walk out of the estate's ballroom.

"Amore, you're always so eager to leave these events even when we're the hosts," he shook his head, slightly disappointed.

"Because they always drag on," I huffed as he helped me into the backseat of the car.

"I guess that's true. Luckily it was more for my father tonight," he said, loosening his tie.

"Home, sir?" our chauffeur, Nicolas, questioned.

"Yes, thank you," Giorgio replied, rolling up the partition of the Rolls-Royce. Turning to smile at me, "You looked beautiful tonight."

"Thank you," I sighed, taking my hair down and combing it out.

You would think I would be a blushing mess at my husband's nice compliment but I hadn't felt that way in years. Half a decade to be exact and before that it was questionable. It wasn't only because after 10 years of marriage, the warm fuzzy feelings stopped, it was way more than that.

***

We got home past midnight as usual. And unsurprisingly, Giorgio and I stumbled upon the kids passed out in the TV room with the nanny also out cold on the couch.

"Goddammit, not again," I groaned, throwing my clutch on the coffee table and turning off the TV.

"I got these two," Gio claimed, picking up our eldest son and daughter off the floor.

"Mildred? Mildred, wake up," I poked the 70-year-old nanny.

"Wha-what?" her eyes flew open.

"You fell asleep, Mildred. Time for Nicolas to drive you home," I explained, trying hard to not roll my eyes once again.

"Oh, okay," she slowly got up and padded out.

I looked down at my youngest, Giovanni, adorably sleeping on a bean bag, and decided to take him upstairs myself. "Goodnight, angel," I kissed his forehead and turned off the light.

"I told you we needed to fire Mildred a long time ago. She falls asleep before the kids every time," I griped to Gio right before we got into bed.

He chuckled while slipping his sleep boxers on, "So, you suggest we need a new nanny?"