Mistress (Camren)

Chapter 2

Camila's POV

"Camila? A-are you sure?" Lauren stuttered in disbelief which I again found super adorable.

"Yeah, Lauren, let's cut the bullshit," I furrowed my brows, setting my wine on the table.

"What bullshit?" she frowned.

"You have to know what I'm talking about," I rolled my eyes. "Everything about my life?"

She still looked confused with her head down, "I'm sorry but I still don't follow."

Sighing, "Look, if you couldn't already tell, I'm not like the typical rich asshole who's in love with the luxurious lifestyle and who thinks I can walk over everyone just because I have more money. No, that's bullshit. I'm normal, okay?"

"...O...okay," she almost whispered like she didn't believe me. Probably because how I was talking wasn't very normal.

"I'm being serious. Call me Camila. I always have the staff call me that after work hours. Even then, it's weird when adults who are older than me call me 'Mrs. Cabello,'" I sighed. "So, actually, you can just never call me that again."

"Camila..." she nodded slowly.

"Yep," I smirked at her catching on. "Come on, talk to me like a normal person. Honestly, I haven't had a normal conversation with another 'normal' person in ages."

"Why... why not?" she looked intrigued.

"Well, for one, my life is restricted to staying in this dungeon that's way too big for human kind and then, I get sent to another boring building to slave over shit I hate. Giorgio doesn't have me do much with the fashion side of things. I only oversee how our US stores are doing while my husband and his father do it all from overseeing the whole business to obviously work with creative teams for the seasonal lines. I just sit in the meetings, taking notes with the stupid interns," I grumbled, getting more pissed off while Lauren appeared stunned. "And people there are work robots, at events and parties they're rich snobs, but it's not like I have all the time in the world to go out and meet nice, humble people who don't have a foot up their asses."

"I don't know... they're still a lot of middle class assholes. Especially in New York," she giggled, causing me to as well.

"Well, not you, Lauren," I waved off. "Certainly not you. You're one of the sweetest, most down to earth people I've met."

"Thank you, Mrs...uh... Camila," she caught herself before beaming. "And you're one of the sweetest, most down to earth billionaires I've met."

I laughed but groaned at her claim, "Ugh, I hate thinking about that."

"About how much is in your bank account?" her eyes widened. "I mean, I completely hear you out with all the abnormal people around you and that your job position is unfair but at least you're well off."

"Oh, for sure. It's not like I'm being ungrateful for how much I have. I know I'm very blessed and I'd rather be here than the shit hole I grew up in. God knows I'll never go back to Miami," I told, laughing it off.

"Seriously?" she sipped the wine with curious eyes. "Why not?"

I prepared myself. "If I must tell you... I was poor. I used to live in a two bedroom apartment in East Little Havana with my parents and younger sister. We were always in bad conditions and never could afford anything that we wanted. Just the basic necessities which we still struggled to get. We didn't even have a Christmas one year. And obviously since we were in the ghetto, the people we were around were all fucked up. There were gangs, violence, drugs, terrible influence everywhere, making me fall into some of that."
"You were in a gang?" she frowned.