Chapter 4

Cameron's POV

"Shoot him" I commanded, my voice devoid of emotion as I stared at the traitor before me, blood seeping from every wound on his body. I felt no sympathy; all I wanted was for him to die—now.

"Please, boss, have mercy! Just give me one more chance, and I swear I won't betray you again," he begged, his voice trembling. He was bound to a chair, just like last time, but now his fingers and toes were all cut-off. He was alive, yet his soul was utterly gone.

"You want another chance? But you betrayed me in the first place, and I don't offer second chances. You should have thought about the consequences before acting," I said coldly.

"I'm sorry," the man pleaded, his voice trembling. "My daughter was sick, and I need money for her medicine. I never intended to steal from you." Tears mingled with the blood on his face as he spoke.

"That's an unacceptable excuse. If you needed money, you could have asked me, but instead, you chose to steal my goods and sell them to my rival. How dare you!" I snapped, my anger boiling over.

"I'm sorry, Boss—" I interrupted him before he could finish.

"You've become a threat to me," I said, pulling my gun from my pocket and firing a shot straight into his heart.

"Brandon, dispose of his body and find out if he really has a daughter," I ordered one of my men.

"Yes, boss, I'll take care of it right away," Brandon said, bowing slightly. I had many gang members in the house, but Brandon was one of the strongest, with Jack as my right-hand man.

I stood up from my chair and left the small room, heading to the changing room where my clothes were already laid out for me.

As I passed by the girl I had tied up earlier, I couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction. I gave her a playful spank, and she let out a soft moan.

"You'll stay here until I return. I hope you've learned your lesson by then," I said, placing my cigarette at the corner of my mouth.

I stripped off my bloodstained suit and took a quick shower before slipping into a clean one. Once I was ready, I headed to the car and instructed the driver to take me to the restaurant where I was meeting my mother.

I closed my eyes, and an unexpected image flashed in my mind: her soft pink lips and the rosy flush on her cheeks when I asked her to undress in front of me.

She appeared so beautiful and innocent, and for a moment, I contemplated taking that innocence away. But then the car came to a stop, and I shook my head, trying to dispel the thoughts of her from my mind.

I didn't care about her; I only agreed to hire her because she needed to pay for all the disrespect she had shown.

When the driver opened the door, I stepped out of the car, and the sight of my mother—the only woman who truly mattered to me—brought a small smile to my face.

"Mother," I called as I approached her, and she smiled back, pulling me into a warm embrace.

"Oh my God, Cameron, you’ve grown more than the last time I saw you!" she exclaimed, looking me over as if I were still a little boy.

"Stop it," I chuckled as we both took our seats. "How was your trip?" I was certain I was the first person she called when she got into town.

"It was fine—stressful but good," she replied and I removed the cigarette from my mouth.

"I thought I arranged a private plane to bring you here," I said, my eyes wide with disbelief.

Hearing of my mother's discomfort sent a chill down my spine as I imagined countless ways to deal with the person responsible for her trip.

"Now, before you jump to conclusions, Cameron Rodriguez," she began, sensing my anger, "I turned it down and asked them not to mention it to you because I wanted it to be a surprise. Although, I know you’re not one to be surprised," she added, and I nodded in agreement.

She knows better than to keep secrets from me, so I was impressed by how she managed to reject my offer of transportation for her own comfort without my knowledge.

"Enough about me—what about you? How's business?" she asked. I sighed and began to explain everything to her.

I understood what she wanted to hear. For years, she had nagged me to find someone new after the death of my first girlfriend. I knew this was the news she had been waiting for, but I hadn’t found anyone who truly fit the mold of being Cameron Rodriguez's girlfriend.

"You know, I just hired a girl," I said, letting the words slip out. "She'll be great for business—she's going to be a stripper at my club." I noticed a familiar glint in my mother's eyes as I spoke.

"I recognize that look, so don’t even try it. Girls like her are only good for things like that—and maybe a few more, FUCK," I said, only to remember how much my mother despised that kind of language.

"Don't use that word again," she warned, and I quickly apologized. I had lied earlier; a girl like Rosalie was not meant for a life like this.

She was so innocent and sweet, and even more stunning when she was shocked or angry. The memory of her flushed cheeks from when I held her earlier replayed in my mind, and the look she had given me before I let her go only intensified my desire for her.

"She didn't seem like that kind of person to me," my mother’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up at her, raising an eyebrow, curious if she had met the girl.

"Have you met her yet?" I asked, my eyes wide with curiosity.

"No, but the way you described her told me everything I needed to know. I can tell when you're lying, Meron," she replied, and I rolled my eyes, brushing off the conversation.

Talking about a girl with my mother would only lead to hearing things I wasn't ready to confront. Only two people had ever held my heart, and I lost my heart to them the day I buried them.

"I'm heading to the house. Your father has no idea I'm back; it'll be a nice surprise," she began, but I rolled my eyes. My father and I couldn't stand each other, and he was the reason I left home the moment I turned eighteen.

"And I'd really appreciate it if you came with me," she continued, but I shook my head firmly.

"No, thanks," I replied, raising my hand in a mock gesture of retreat. "That man can't stand me, and my feeling is mutual. I could easily kill him before I even realized it." I reached for another cigarette to light up, but my mother snatched it from my hand.

"You’re coming home with me, and that’s final," she said firmly. It felt more like an order than a request, and she was the only woman who could dare to speak to me that way.

"Alright," I relented, standing up to follow her to the car. The drive to my father's house was filled with chatter as my mother excitedly recounted her vacation and all the sights she had seen.

As we approached the mansion, I paused to take a look. It had been years since I last set foot inside, and I knew that coming here would likely be a choice I'd come to regret.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Kai teased, my younger brother, who always seemed to be in my father's good graces.

"Well, as they say, it's better than being a lapdog," I retorted, and he opened his mouth to respond, but I felt a sense of satisfaction when he fell silent.

"Look who it is, the prodigal son," I heard my father's voice as he stepped down from the stairs. He laughed, embraced my mother, and kissed her before coming over to hug me as well.

"I'm not reckless; I left you all behind because I needed some space," I shot back. "And just so you know, I still hate you," I whispered, struggling to maintain my composure.

"Ouch!" My father exclaimed, clutching his chest in mock pain. "That was ages ago—let it go!" he added, and I felt my fists clench.

The tension in the room was suffocating, and all I could think about was escaping to the sexy girl I had tied up in my changing room.

"I'll take care of dinner," my mother announced as she headed to the kitchen.

"There are plenty of maids who can handle that, Selena. Don't stress yourself out," my father chimed in, I could hear them laughing.

With them gone, the room felt stiflingly hot, leaving my brother and me alone.

"You're still the same cold-hearted bastard, aren't you?" Kai chose that moment to speak up, his voice dripping with disdain.

"At least I have that going for me. I refuse to let anyone control me or treat me like a pushover," I smirked, pulling out a cigarette and settling into the comfortable couch.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his hand already clenched into a fist. I couldn't help but notice how impressive it looked, with the veins bulging beneath his skin.

"Oh, you can throw a punch now? I hope It better land harder than the last one because I was pretty disappointed," I teased, crossing my legs. "And just to clarify, I'm not here to beat you up, so you're safe for now."

Kai and I hated each other, and meeting with my father and Kai was something I hadn’t anticipated, but my mother insisted.

"You don’t need us anymore. You’ve built your business successfully and made a name for yourself. Do you really think you can take on the Godfather?"

"Oh, he's the God-father? I had no idea," I smirked, relishing the way I could get under his skin—and I love the thrill of annoying people in general.

"Boys, I heard our mother call. No fighting in my house," she commanded, and Kai hissed in frustration as he headed to the table, while I followed suit.

"So, how's everything going at your club, son?" my father asked, attempting to spark a conversation.

"Don't pretend to care now. If I hadn't shown up, you wouldn't have given a damn, just like when your men nearly took me out and kill my love with my unborn baby," I shouted, letting my anger consume me despite being at the dinner table.

"You ungrateful—"

"Boys!" My mother's furious voice cut through the tension, halting us as I stabbed my pasta and slammed my fork down on the table.

"Forget it! I shouldn't even be here," I muttered before storming out of the house.

He had inflicted too much pain for me to pretend I wanted to be near him, yet he dared to act as if he cared.

If it weren't for him, she would still be alive.