04 - Camilla Coppola
Camilla Coppola
Hearing the same speech my father has been giving for the past three months is starting to make me sick. I don’t want to be forced to marry a power-hungry lunatic; I know this Russian just wants to use my last name to strengthen old alliances.
“Camilla, it’s no use arguing. The decision is made!” my father roars, slamming his hand on the table, frightening everyone around. “What’s so hard about being obedient?”
I keep my head high, maintaining my focus. I’m not afraid of my father, and I’m sure he knows how psychopathic he and my sister Letícia are; the difference is that I don’t care about any of this.
In truth, I just want to have a peaceful life, perhaps find someone who could make me understand what love is and build a calm family beside me. I take a deep breath after holding my father’s irritated gaze.
“Fine, when you find me dead in some ditch, don’t say I didn’t warn you!” I say, fuming with anger, and turn my back on him.
“You insolent girl, who do you think you’re talking to?” he shouts, throwing the crystal ashtray, which shatters at my feet.
“I’m your daughter, but from what I see, I’m nothing more than a bargaining chip!” I say over my shoulder, not waiting to hear his shouts.
I leave the office, knowing that my life at home will become a hell until I marry Oleg Volkov, and he becomes my own torturer, or at worst, my executioner.
I walk out of the house and head towards the only place that brings me comfort and tranquility, something I haven’t had in the family since my mother passed away. That damned disease took her in a horrible way. She suffered pain every minute of the day, to the point of begging my father to end her torment.
I enter the orchid greenhouse she always loved and tended as if she were taking care of me and Letícia. I sit on the first bench, pulling my legs up and hugging them, letting out a sigh as I rest my head on my knees and decide to talk to my mother’s spirit.
“Oh, Mom, why did Dad become a man who doesn’t care about his daughter’s happiness?” I ask, looking at the well-tended orchids.
I close my eyes, trying to hear her voice. I miss the woman who, even knowing the terrible fate awaiting her daughters, made sure we wouldn’t suffer before our time, and worse, that we wouldn’t be given to any fool.
My sister was lucky; when her fiancé was chosen, our mother was still lucid and gave her opinion about him. But for me…
Everything seemed to conspire against my tragic end. My marriage was already scheduled for six months from now. We would just have to attend the wedding of the son of the mafia’s high-ranking leader. Leon Carter was marrying Ella Walker, a girl who entered our world and, without any training, showed her worth to all these men who underestimate a woman’s power.
It had been almost two weeks since my last argument with my father, and I was looking forward to a day of being a high-society girl in the glamorous New York City. Just my older sister and I she was excited to buy things for her upcoming wedding.
“You need to stop fighting with Dad,” my sister says as we drive down Fifth Avenue.
“Let him turn me into a nun, but don’t make me marry Oleg…” I complain, noticing my security guard watching me through the mirror. “We’re staying here,” I say firmly.
I don’t want them hearing my complaints; it’s enough that Letícia isn’t exactly sympathetic. Our security guards stop the car, and we get out, followed closely by them.
“I doubt our father will do that, but I’m sure that as long as you keep pressing the issue, he’ll stick to his word with the Volkov,” my sister says, sounding genuinely concerned for the first time.
“He’s a psychopath. I heard he killed a woman just because her teeth brushed against his… you know what!” I say, feeling a chill.
I feel Letícia’s hand on my shoulders, and in that moment of sisterly solidarity, I know she’ll support me if I do anything reckless. We continue with our plans to shop, and even though I had already chosen the dress I would wear to the wedding, I decide to buy another one with a more spring-like vibe.
My father had booked an entire floor for our family at the hotel, and I knew he wouldn’t be staying there during the wedding week. He would be enjoying himself at the Carter family’s nightclubs, reserved exclusively for guests. This made me feel more relaxed about enjoying the day and night on my own, without any worries.
On the day of the ceremony, I had already styled my hair and applied subtle makeup; all that was left was to put on the dress and head to the church. That turned into a torment when I came face to face with Oleg as soon as I entered, arm in arm with Letícia, who was sharing with me scenes from our favorite series.
“Good morning, Miss Coppola!” I turned towards the person who said my name.
The man, who couldn’t have been taller than my father, was there with his eyes fixed on me. Blonde, with blue eyes, clean-shaven, and a smug little smile. I felt a flutter in my stomach just from his approach.
“Good morning!” I say and turn my back to continue walking.
“Camilla!” my sister says.
“Shut up and let’s go…” I ask, dragging my sister past our father.
I know my father will be furious, but I don’t care. I walk to the front of the church, aware that there are empty seats there, and I want to be as far away from my father and especially from that idiot I’m being forced to marry.
As soon as we sit down, I feel several people staring in my direction. I felt a bit embarrassed, then I realized they were looking at the priest who passed close by. What a handsome man, such a waste for him to be wearing that outfit. I keep my eyes fixed on him, and for a moment, our gazes connect. I realize I affected him.
Then the plan flashes through my mind: if I give myself to him or anyone else, my father won’t be able to marry me off to that murderous Russian.
I switch places with my sister and feel satisfied when I see the bishop leaving the altar and heading towards the confessional not far from me.
“Letícia?” I call to my sister, who looks at me with concern. “I need to go to the bathroom; my period just started…”
I fake a desperate look and get up from the pew.
“Okay, I think there’s a bathroom over there. Do you want me to go with you?” I shake my head.
“No, hold my seat next to you!” I say casually.
What happens in the bishop’s confessional is so unexpected that I am left speechless and impressed by the way he kissed me. I could feel his desperation to take everything from me as well as his care, knowing this was my first experience.
And, of course, he didn’t accept my offer, which frustrated me. I really wanted him to be one of those devout people who don’t adhere to celibacy, and for a moment, I thought he might be. Annoyed, I returned to my seat and sat next to my sister, lying to her, and we started paying attention to the beautiful ceremony.
We watched the union of a couple who fought hard to be together. I hope one day to have a marriage like that, where my fiancé looks at me the way Leon looks at his Ella, the woman who clearly has him wrapped around her finger.
“Do you want to come with me, or would you prefer to go with your future fiancé?” my sister says, discreetly pointing in one direction.
“Camilla, I let you go with Oleg; he asked to speak to you alone!” I see my father smiling from ear to ear.
“I was going with Letícia…” I start to say, and Oleg steps up beside me.
I look at my father and see him narrowing his eyes. I know very well that this is not the best place for a scene.
“Let’s go, darling!” Oleg says.
I walk and pass by the bishop, who is talking to Mrs. Carter, and I sigh in irritation at being arm in arm with this idiot. We leave the church, and within minutes, we’re getting into a dark SUV. Oleg opens the door and helps me into the car.
As he sits next to me, he turns to face me.
“Finally alone, bambina…” he says in my language, which I find very displeasing.
Now I have to endure whatever this man wants from me. God have mercy.