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I am scared to even think about the wedding, let alone accept that I will go through with it. I always believed in fairy tales, love at first sight, and soul mates. Of course, I did; I'm a romance reader. When I was a little girl, I dreamt about a prince on a white horse who was going to save me from my aunt and her family.
Since I started living in my aunt's house, she always told me I was a burden to them. They never hurt me physically, but mentally they did everything they could to make me feel insecure. But I had no one else to support me, so I accepted it.
I always knew that I was going to have an arranged marriage. My aunt always talked about how much she had to spend on me and that her only hope was that my future husband would pay her back. At first, I tried to argue with her, but she always threatened to give me to an orphanage, so I stopped those attempts to protect myself.
But to be honest, I couldn't entirely resign myself to the idea that I would never get my real-life fairy tale. Of course, as I grew older, I stopped picturing the prince on a white horse. I started reading other, more adult romance novels, and my fantasies also changed. I've imagined being kidnapped by mistake by a mobster to get a ransom. When he realizes that he's not going to get anything from my family, he plans to kill me, but instead, he falls in love with me and wins my heart.
Sometimes, I dreamt about my future arrangement. I thought maybe one day some sexy young millionaire would need a wife urgently to get an inheritance. He'll offer money to my family for them to let me marry him. We'd hate each other at first, but then, after we would have to fake our relationship in public, we'd eventually fall in love.
There were many more scenarios of my happily ever after where I wasn't kidnapped or sold. Still, I knew that they were less likely ever to happen. Because my aunt needed her money, and all my attempts to convince her that I'll pay her anything she wanted when I started working were useless. She said I'd never be able to earn as much as she'd spent on me through all these years. Moreover, she wasn't shy to say that she wanted a profit.
Two months ago, she said she had found a suitable man who needed a pretty young wife who would unconditionally listen to anything he said. He also needed a wife who'd know how to keep up appearances in public. I don't know how much money he offered to my aunt, but she agreed right away, without even asking me.
I begged to postpone the wedding until my nineteenth birthday at least. She agreed, but only because my 'fiancé' also wanted a summer ceremony to get pretty photos to post in the press.
As it turned out, my future husband is gay and can't come out because of his political career in the French government. He's a bald forty-four-year-old man with a tummy and an addiction to parties with young male models. He wasn't happy that I was a Spanish girl without a worthy pedigree. Still, his PR manager said that he needed a wife as soon as possible, before his next campaign.
This situation is even further from a fairy tale than I could ever imagine. I started crying each time I tried to picture my future life with that man. Sometimes I’ve dreamt about running away from this nightmare, but I know for sure they'll find me. I don't want to be a fugitive for the rest of my life.
And then I met Antoine: young, handsome, beautiful, intelligent; he is everything I've ever dreamt of. And the second he touched me, I melted in his arms like we were meant to be. I didn't believe him at first and didn't think a guy like him would be interested in a girl like me. He meets so many beautiful women here, at one of the most expensive resorts on the planet. In comparison, I am...well, regular. I didn't even think we had anything in common. But I was so intrigued to see where this flirtation would lead that I decided to give it a chance. I had nothing left to lose. At least, that's what I thought that day when he came to me in the garden.
I was wrong, so wrong. I liked him from the first conversation, and after he kissed me, I realized instantly that I was falling for this man. I tried to deny it at first, tried to convince myself that it was just a fling, but who am I fooling? I’ve never had this type of connection with anyone else before. And after the couple of days we've spent together, I know I'm in love. And I believe it's mutual.
But we'll never be able to be together because he's just a hotel worker who can never offer as much money as a politician. And I can't ask him to run away with me somewhere far from this place, preferably another continent. I can't ask him to give up his future for me; it wouldn't be fair.
And now I know for sure that it's not like I have nothing left to lose: whatever I decide—to get married or run away—my heart will be left behind with Antoine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANTOINE
"How do you know how to do all of that?" Camilla asks, looking at me rolling up the sail.
I smirk. I have done this since I was six years old. We went sailing each weekend: the whole family together with snacks for us and wine for our parents. I learned how to sail before I learned how to write.
"Well, you know, it's the French Riviera: you always know someone who knows someone with a boat," I say, smiling at her, and she smiles back. "And you should be ready for anything destiny prepares for you." I wink and turn away to finish what I started, hoping she won't ask any more questions.
I just don't want to lie to her. I already told her that this yacht belongs to someone I know, which isn't exactly a lie, but usually, if a boat is your father's, you don't call him 'someone I know.'
I can't tell her that sailing is just another activity for me, like horse riding, tennis, and golf. Dad wanted me to be prepared for any business meeting I could have in the future. And in a large business like ours, negotiations usually take place far from the office.
Luckily, it's not that hot today, so we can enjoy the view of the French Riviera from the upper deck without being blinded by the sun. I wanted to do something special for Camilla's birthday, so I prepared a ride on a yacht with dinner afterward. I asked Paul, our concierge, to get rid of her annoying family and schedule a weekend trip to Corsica to one of our resorts. I said it must be a three-person trip only. I knew they wouldn't take Cami with them even though it was her birthday.
Paul pretended it was a gift from the hotel and a lottery between guests. I don't know all the details, but they bought it. It's a free trip; who would decline? Moreover, Paul insisted that the night inL'Eden Resortwould be prolonged. Cami still doesn't know it was me; she thinks it's a lucky coincidence.
They flew away this afternoon on our private helicopter, and they'll be back only after tomorrow, which means we'll spend the whole two days (and nights) together. To say that I'm happy is to understate my joy. It's the perfect time to get to know Camilla better and finally confess to her who I am.
"Do you need a driver's license to do this?" she asks when I finally finish rolling them and turn to face her again.
"Yeah, you do, just like for a car." I nod and take a seat next to her. "There are different categories, which depend on your driving experience and the size of the boat you work on."
"Really? Do you have one?"
"Of course I do." I open the small refrigerator built into the table next to the sofa we’re sitting on and pull out a bottle ofDom Perignonchampagne, two glasses, and a bowl of strawberries.
"When did you? How..." Camilla tries to ask a question but stops, lost for words. I smile. I love seeing her like this—impressed and speechless with enjoyment—and I'm glad I'm the reason for her mood. I like how she sincerely enjoys simple things.
"I had the whole day to prepare everything for our date." I place cold glasses on the table and open the bottle.
