Camila Rodrigo;
Aaron and I stepped into his father's office, our fingers interlaced. Alessandro's eyes flicked toward our joined hands, a faint crease forming between his brows. He sat behind a grand mahogany desk in his sprawling study, a massive portrait of himself dominating the wall behind him.
The painting was unmistakably him—clad in a sharp black Italian suit, a cigar resting between his lips. But something about it unsettled me. The eyes in that portrait seemed to follow me, like they could see straight through to the thoughts I didn't dare voice.
I shook off the chill crawling up my spine and let my gaze drift around the room. It was pristine, stylish. Books from every discipline lined the sleek shelves. A modest bar stood to the side, stocked with expensive-looking liquor. Just in front of the desk was a sitting area clearly meant for entertaining—or interrogating—guests.
"Sit," Alessandro said, gesturing toward the sofas. Aaron led me over, and we settled beside each other as his father took his place at the head of the arrangement.
"So, tell me a bit about yourself, Camila," he began, voice smooth.
No mention that he already knows me? That I'm his therapist? That we still have weekly sessions?
Guess we're strangers now.
I gave him a tight smile. "I'm Camila Rodrigo. I hold a master's in Psychology. I'm twenty-seven and… a bit of a junkie for puzzles, and people."
His lips quirked. "Interesting. And where do you work? With a degree like that, I'd hope you're putting those skills to use."
He knows damn well where I work. This wasn't curiosity—it was a test. Or worse, a trap. Was he trying to force me to reveal something in front of Aaron? Trying to shake the act?
Not that it mattered. I was a fake girlfriend. This was just a job. I shouldn't care what either of them thought. My only concern was that paycheck waiting at the end of this charade.
Aaron jumped in. "She's waiting for her appointment letter. At the prison you were just released from."
Crap. He didn't know I'd already started.
Alessandro's smirk deepened—like he'd just caught us mid-bluff. That smug glint in his eyes screamed, I know something my son doesn't.
"Oh? Is that right, Camila?" he said, voice syrupy with feigned innocence.
This was it—his cue for me to come clean. But if I told the truth, the illusion of our relationship might crack. If I lied, it could all come back to bite me.
"Just as he said," I replied carefully, keeping my tone neutral.
Neither confirmation or denial. Safe.
"Perfect," Alessandro said smoothly, his smirk curling like a serpent's tail. "Then maybe you can spend some time here with us. Use some of that psychology voodoo on me."
Aaron shot me a glance—brief, but loud with unspoken warnings. His body language tightened, wary of the invitation.
"Dad, she can't. She has her own life to live. Besides, wouldn't it be... awkward? My girlfriend giving therapy sessions to my father? Prospective daughter-in-law, remember?" he said, trying to steer the conversation back into safer territory.
But Alessandro was relentless. "Exactly why she should stay over. If she's to be part of this family, all the more reason for her to get familiar with us—and for us to get to know her."
He looked at me again, eyes probing, almost playful in a twisted way.
"Dad, I said no. It's non-negotiable," Aaron said firmly, the steel slipping into his voice.
Alessandro only smiled.
"Let's hear it from the horse's mouth, shall we?" He turned to me, tone honeyed. "Dear, what do you say? A little more time here with your boyfriend… and maybe learning a thing or two from an old wolf like me. No pressure. Doesn't even have to be today—this weekend, perhaps?"
I forced a thoughtful look, though I already knew the answer.
This was supposed to be a one-day performance. One dinner. One paycheck. No deep dives into family dynamics or dangerous mind games. There was no way I could navigate therapy sessions without Aaron finding out I already knew his father.
This was a mess. A stupid, burning mess. I should've been in my room, watching Netflix with hot chocolate and vanilla cookies.
I softened my expression, playing the reluctant guest. "I'm so sorry, sir… but I won't be able to stay that long," I said with what I hoped was finality.
Or so I thought.
Two Hours Later
"How did you go from one harmless dinner to spending two weeks with them?" my mother asked, flabbergasted.
Yeah. I agreed. Somehow.
Alessandro had pulled Aaron aside. Five minutes alone with his father, and Aaron returned with a different look in his eyes and a new deal: two million dollars.
I didn't ask what was said. I didn't want to know. But the new offer was too big to ignore. That kind of money could free my family. Move us far away from Alessandro's shadow. Far from all this.
"Mother, he's my boyfriend," I said, keeping my voice gentle. "I just want to spend time with him. You understand, don't you?"
She sighed, unconvinced.
I walked over and took her hands, leading her to sit beside me on the bed where I'd already started packing.
"Mom, you know Aaron. He'd never hurt me. And I'll check in every day. I'm only thirty minutes away."
"Baby, two weeks isn't just a visit," she said, her voice trembling. "It's not three days or a sleepover—it's fourteen days without my baby."
She pulled me into a hug, and I felt her tears on my shoulder.
I didn't say it aloud, but I was crying inside too.
Two weeks. In that house.
With him.
"I spent seven years in medical school, Mom—that's way longer than two weeks," I said with a soft laugh, hugging her tightly. "Besides, Jennifer's still here with you. You won't even notice the days flying by."
She nodded, clearly unconvinced, but she was trying to let me go without a fuss.
Just when I thought I was in the clear, she suddenly gripped my shoulders, eyes wide.
"Jennifer will murder you if you leave without saying goodbye," she warned, dead serious.
I blinked, then smiled. "You're absolutely right. I'll wait for her to get home and explain everything myself."
That seemed to satisfy her—for now. She hugged me again before quietly stepping out of the room.
Hours passed before Jennifer finally got home. I barely had time to gather my thoughts when she barged into my room, eyes darting straight to the packed bags.
"Why are your bags packed? Where are you going?" she asked, suspicion already creeping into her tone.
Sigh.
"That's actually why I brought you in here, Jenny. I'm going away for two weeks—"
"Cam-Cam, what are you up to now?" she cut in, narrowing her eyes.
Cam-Cam. The nickname she only used when she thought I was hiding something.
"No, no, no," I rushed to explain. "It's not what you think. I'm not running away with Aaron. If I were doing that, I wouldn't be explaining anything—I'd just disappear in the middle of the night."
She raised an eyebrow. "Well… the last time you packed your bags, you weren't up to any good. So, what's the real reason? Why are you going there for two weeks, right after one dinner? What aren't you telling me?"
Jennifer might not always be the most intuitive person, but once she got a whiff of something suspicious, she turned into a bloodhound. There was no shaking her off until she got answers.
Here goes nothing...
"I've been jobless for months, Jen. Just sending out CVs, waiting for replies that never come. When his parents suggested I stay for a bit, I thought… maybe it's the little break I need."
I made sure to sound as tired and sincere as possible.
Her tough expression softened. "I'm sorry," she whispered, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around me. "I've been a bad sister, haven't I?"
Wait... what? It worked?
"I should've realized how cooped up you've been," she said, pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes. "Go. Relax. Have fun. I'll even take some time off work when you're back—we'll hang out like we used to."
I grinned. "Now that's a better deal, sis."
"I'll let you finish packing while I freshen up. Stay safe, okay?" she said before leaving the room.
As soon as the door shut behind her, I collapsed back onto the bed, arms spread out beside me.
I needed answers—from Aaron. Why did he suddenly change his mind?
And more importantly, how was I supposed to survive fourteen days under the same roof as his father?
It was going to be exhausting.
But not impossible.
Sigh...
---
The next morning, Aaron loaded my bag into his car while I gave my mom and Jennifer one last hug. Jen had taken a sick day just to stay home and see me off, hovering beside Mom like my personal bodyguard.
Aaron gave me a small nod from the driver's seat, signaling he was ready. I kissed both of them goodbye, holding on a little longer than I should've. Something about leaving felt heavier than I expected.
Then I climbed into the sleek black SUV. Aaron offered them a quick wave before starting the engine, and just like that, we pulled away from the apartment—headed straight for his father's mansion.
The silence between us lingered for a few minutes, the hum of the engine the only sound until I couldn't hold it in anymore.
"So… what changed your mind?" I asked, keeping my tone firm. "We agreed I'd stay for one night. That was the deal. What made you suddenly agree to two weeks?"
His fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel. "He threatened me," he said, flatly.
I stared at him, stunned. "Wait… what?"
Aaron kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight. "My father doesn't take 'no' for an answer. He always has to be in control. If he wants something—no matter how trivial—he gets it."
I blinked, trying to process. "But why me? I'm not important enough to be worth a threat."
Aaron let out a humorless chuckle. "Alessandro does things that don't always make sense—at least not to people like us. But I've lived under his rule my entire life. Power games, manipulation, fear… it's his language."
His voice dropped a notch. "Look, I know this wasn't part of the plan, but I need your help, Camila. Just for these two weeks."
I studied him, unsure whether to feel sympathy or suspicion. "Then tell me what he threatened you with. I deserve to know that much."
He glanced at me briefly, then back at the road, his expression grim. "I will. Just… not now."
He reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine, but I gently pulled away, folding my arms instead and facing the window. If he wasn't going to be honest, I wouldn't pretend to be fine with it.
---
When we arrived at the mansion, Aaron grabbed my bags and led me inside.
Of course, they expected us to share a room—no surprise there. It didn't bother me, though. Aaron wasn't really my boyfriend… and he was gay. So yeah, safe territory.
Apparently, the devil himself wasn't home, which gave Aaron the perfect excuse to show me around. He walked me through the vast kitchen, the polished guest wings, the expansive garden, and even the luxury master suite.
But my favorite? The pool. Hands down.
Later that afternoon, Aaron stepped out to meet a friend, leaving me alone in the mansion.
With nothing else to do, I changed into a swimsuit, wrapped myself in a towel, grabbed a sunhat, and made my way to the pool.
The water was crystal clear, the temperature perfect.
I tossed the hat onto a lounge chair, let the towel fall, and dove in headfirst.
The water wrapped around me like silk. I swam laps, switching strokes with every turn, letting my muscles stretch and my mind wander.
After nearly an hour, I let myself float on my back, soaking in the peace.
For a moment, everything felt… still.
No Alessandro.
No pretending.
Just me and the water.
What could possibly go wrong? I thought, lips curling into a small smile.
I swam toward the edge and climbed the short iron ladder out of the pool… only to stop dead in my tracks.
My clothes were gone.
Not where I left them.
Not anywhere in sight.
What. The. Hell.