Pyke novel Chapter 30

Camila sobs even in her sleep as I cuddle her all night. I wish I can take those pains away, especially that I’m one of the reasons why she’s in pain right now. Guilt is consuming me slowly and painfully.

I always see her as a happy woman who doesn’t care about the world’s problem, but since that incident, she’s been silent and tried to mask her emotions most of the time and pretended to be fine. I missed her irritating banter and her infuriating mouth. My heart aches every time I see her so sad, and I can’t do anything.

We drive back to the city early in the morning after our breakfast to meet my dad and her father’s lawyer.

Atty. Timothy Sanders Jr. reads the last will and testament of late Cameron King II. The lawyer is in his early forties, medium build, wearing a fancy black tailored suit. He took over his father’s legacy who happened to be the former lawyer of Camila’s father, and my dad trusts him to take care of everything related to Cam King.

I now understand why Cam King’s family didn’t accept Camila as one of them because all his assets—his bank accounts, businesses, houses, and car collections are left in Camila’s name. And as soon as she turns twenty-one everything mentions above will be hers. She could’ve had those months ago, but Dad was planning on meeting her first to gain her trust before he will drop the news to Camila.

She just bobs her head to the lawyer to show she understands and follows what the lawyer is reading for her. It bothers me so much that she’s with us but her mind seems outside of this earth. I know this is shocking, but she deserves everything she’s going to have—every penny of it, and these belong to her in the first place. I wish I have the ability to read people’s minds when I find her staring at Dad and me, then lowers her gaze if I catch her looking at me.

“What?”

She shakes her head slowly.

“So, Ms. Mendéz, I’ll meet you with Mr. Hughes next year to discuss your surname. We have to change it to King to transfer the whole assets into your name. I’ll give you my contact numbers, call me if you need anything,” Atty. Sanders explains as he arranges the documents and places them back to his attaché case.

“I’m not interested in his assets. Why can’t you just give all of them to his family?” she asks him in a low tone. I’m expecting that from her since she knows now her father was rich.

“Sweetheart, that’s your father’s money. You’re the only one has the right to have them all. Besides, it was all said in his last will. Your DNA matched his since you were born, but you have to change your surname to King,” Dad explains calmly.

Her brows furrow while looking at Dad. “Can I just give it to you?”

My eyes widen. Okay, I didn’t expect that.

My dad chuckles, “Sweetheart, you hate me, I get it. I wish I can turn back the time and take back my words, but that could change who you are right now. Your dad might be alive and you grow up with him or with his family, but do you wanna change something in your life while growing up?”

“It’s been twenty-two years this guilt kept taunting me. That’s the reason why I didn’t reach out to you, but I’d been watching you grew up. I wanted you to grow up in a normal family. I made sure the Wright treats you well because I’m willing to put them in hell if they laid their hands on you. That family loves you despite the payment I gave them. They didn’t even consider the money because they treated you as one of the Wright.”

“I don’t hate you.” Her tears fall down her cheeks.

I stand up and move toward the black leather couch where she’s sitting across of me and Dad. I sit beside her after kissing the top of her head.

“Do you want to go out?” I ask, pulling her into a hug.

She might need some air or needs some time to sink everything in. I know she feels uncomfortable since we enter Dad’s office.

I know this room is intimidating and luxurious at the same time that makes her feel claustrophobic. A dark mahogany paneled-wall that half of it was covered with hardbound books. One oil painting from an Italian painter worth one hundred grand. The century-old huge oak wood desk that he bought at the auction. On the left side is the liquor cabinet that God knows how much cost per bottle. Most of them are only available at the VIP lounge’s bar in my club.

“Let’s finish this, I’m sorry,” she says in between sniffs.

I shift my gaze to Dad who’s lips are pressed into a thin line. He rubs his temple while looking down at the dark glass coffee table.

Atty. Sanders clears his throat. “Shall we continue?” he asks politely to Camila.

She answers a yes that is barely audible.

“As I said earlier, we have to process the papers to change your surname first then I will transfer all the assets to your name. In the meantime, I’ll transfer one hundred grand to your account for your expenses.”

“No!” Camila exclaims.

I chuckle at her reaction. The two men look shocked at her. Typical Camila, who refuses when it comes to money. That’s what I love about her.

I freeze in my seat at the last words my brain thinks while my heart flip-flops in my chest. No doubt I love that everything about her, but does she love something about me?

“Pyke.”

“Yeah,” I quickly answer when I hear my father is calling my name.

“Son, try to convince her about the money.”

“You can’t force her, you know,” I say with a laugh.

“She’ll have million dollars in her account as soon as she carries the surname of King,” Atty. Sanders interrupts.

“Oh, God,” she murmurs.

“How do you like to work at 4X4?” I ask, facing her.

She pats her cheeks with the tissue then stares at me. God, those eyes that I’ve seen when she came and those lips I kissed and tasted. I have been dreaming of her mouth wrap around my co—my stupid cock jerks. I groan inwardly.

“I visited once during our field trip.”

“And?”

The two men listen intently to her answer.

“Lately, I was thinking about it when you told me you called the 4X4. I always dream of working there, you know?” Her eyes light up with excitement and pink creeps on her cheek. Cute.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” She nods shyly.

“Then you have to change your surname to King.”

“Why?” She frowns. I know she wants to argue but takes a hold of it.

“I’ll just talk to Dad, get inside the Car, Babe,” I tell her as soon as we get into the parking area of the Hughes building that served as the office for Hughes Industries.

I stride towards Dad as soon as Camila gets inside the dark blue Mercedes Benz Dad offers as Camila’s service.