His Kleptomaniac Bride

Camille's Pov

Fuck, no. Not now."

"This cannot be happening right now."

My fingers curled hard into the sleeves of the blue lightweight sweater I wore over a cream-coloured pleated skirt, tugging the fabric down over my trembling hands to hide them as I looked at the kid with a tennis kit a few feet away.

My brain was staging a civil war. One part of me mapped out the absurd, looping logic of how I could possibly swipe a child's tennis kit and vanish without getting caught. What do I even need a child's tennis kit for anyways? while the other part screamed at me to turn around.

There were worse things than being diagnosed with an impulse control disorder. For example, I could be the target of a hitman, or I could be on a hospital bed fighting for my life. But I'd take both anytime, any day, rather than this disorder.

I looked around the court. There were only a few people here, three to five teenagers who should be in school right now, not like that's my business. Not a lot of people visit the indoor centre tennis court on a sunny afternoon anyway. That was what I was counting on when I stepped in here, hoping to be alone.

"How the hell am I going to fit that in my bag anyway?" I shuddered inwardly.

"Hey kiddo," I said, forcing my legs to move toward the kid. "That's some really cool kit you've got right there."

"Umm, do I know you?" he replied. Ouch, rude kid.

"No, you don't, at least not yet, but I'm Tessa, and I'm giving you a compliment on your cool tennis kit."

Did I just freaking lie about my name? My jaw tightened. Way to go, brain.

"Oh, thank you." He eyed me warily. Of course he doesn't trust me; I'm smiling sheepishly like a goddamn buffalo.

I'd better get this done soon; my skin was crawling, every nerve ending screaming for me to act.

"Can I see it? I do have mine, but I don't think it's as cool as yours." I did a little pout and puppy dog eyes; that works on kids every time.

"Yes, of course, yours looks outdated. My dad just got this latest tennis kit for me as a birthday present. "He beamed. Yep, one way to get a kid warm-up to you is to do the puppy dog eyes. Really cute, by the way.

"Here, take a look at my tennis racket; it's so cool, right?" He went on.

"Yes, so cool. Wow, you must like Batman a lot? They are practically engraved in every piece of equipment of yours." I asked, impressed and heavy with a sinking dread. I really wish I could just walk away from this kid right now. I wish I was in my room and not in this tennis court trying to steal a little kid's tennis kit.

"Yes, who wouldn't like Batman? He's the only human in the superhero league, and his superpower is being rich." He answered, still showing me more of his cool stuff. That was when I spotted the name and tracking code.

The Wilsons.

Blood drained straight out of my face. The Wilsons were old-money royalty, a family whose single word could crush empires, let alone my father's freshly minted, fragile wealth. If I got caught stealing a tennis kit from Elder Wilson's beloved grandson, the fallout wouldn't just be a scandal; my family's name would be dragged straight back to where we started, and the gutters and every door would be slammed in our faces.

I can't do this; my hands are already visibly shaking. I need a save right now, something anything to distract me before I do something stupid, like grabbing the tennis kit and bolting out of the court.

"Umm, are you okay? Your hands are shaking." The wariness in his eyes returned. He started arranging his things back in his tennis backpack.

"Yes, I'm fin-"

"And who is this again, Roman?"

I was cut short by a voice, darker and much stronger. I turned to the direction of the voice and came face to face with three men: an older man in his 70s, a middle-aged man, both dressed in crisp white tennis outfits, and a much younger man who, if I were to guess his age, I'd pick thirties, dressed in a dark charcoal suit, looking like he just stepped out of a boardroom meeting. I knew two of these men: Elder Wilson, Mr Wilson, Roman's father, and the dark charcoal suit man who I can't seem to remember where I have seen him from, but I can bet everything in me that he is someone important. That posture of his and the aura that scream absolute authority say it all. All from the old money families, shit. I guess this is my save because I can feel my disorder toning down a notch or two.

"Ummm, Grandfather, she's my friend-"

"And what did I say about starting a sentence with ummm?" The same voice whom I now deduced belongs to Elder Wilson, asked.

"I'm sorry, grandfather." Roman said apologetically.

"Which family are you from?" Elder Wilson stared at me pointedly with a sharp look enough to draw blood.

"I'm from the Alonso's family, sir," I offered a tight smile. "My name is Camill-"

"I have never heard such a surname before among the prestigious families I know of." Elder Wilson cut me off even before I could complete my sentence. Dammit, old man. It seemed that this man had a knack for cutting people short, and he seems to enjoy it, considering that little cruel smirk on his wrinkled face.

"I thought you said your name is Tessa?" Roman blurted out, staring at me like I had grown a second head. Maybe I have.

Oh shit. I totally forgot that I lied to this kid about my name. Now everyone is looking at me.

"I, umm, yes, my name is Camille Tessa Alonso." I laughed nervously. "I only give cool kids the name Tessa because...well, it's cool." Fuck!

Elder Wilson narrowed his eyes at me. "Your name isn't Tessa, young lady. You clearly had ulterior motives for approaching my grandson. Now tell me, who sent you?"

"My name is indeed Tessa; I don't have any ulterior motives. I'm, uhh, just a normal pers-"

"I think we have spent enough time here, Elder Wilson. We have much more important things to discuss."

The suit-wearing man cut in, glancing down at his gold watch with chilling indifference.

"Oh yes, of course, Mr Montgomery, my grandfather was just delighted to see his grandson, that's all," Mr Wilson said quickly.

"The driver will take you home now, Roman." Mr Wilson said, ending the discussion and walking past us.

"Okay, Father," Roman grumbled.

Mr Montgomery. The name clicked, sending a fresh wave of panic through my chest. But before I could process it, the man in the charcoal suit turned his icy gaze down at me.

Pale ocean-blue eyes. A straight nose, a sharp, clean jawline dusted with faint stubble, and eyelashes ridiculously longer than any man or woman had a right to have. He was painfully attractive and would have been terrifyingly handsome if his expression hadn't looked like it had been made from granite.

"Could you move? You are in my way." His voice was a low, smooth rumble.

"Excuse me, Miss?" The urgency was evident in his voice and eyes as he looked down at me.

"Oh, yes, sure, sorry," I mumbled, tripping backward over my own feet as I scrambled out of his way. A whiff of his cologne drifted past my nose as he walked past. Dark musk with a subtle hint of vanilla. Nice.

I didn't wait to hear another word. I turned on my heel and practically sprinted out of the indoor centre, hailing the first taxi I saw. My pulse was still hammering against my ribs. I couldn't afford another spiral, much less an encounter with a family like the Wilsons or that man. I'd be better off at home. In the comfort of my room.

I was about to step into the taxi when I felt the insistent buzz in my tennis backpack. My heart did a double beat of fear when I brought out my cell phone and saw who was calling.

"Hello, Father." I quickly did a mental check of why he could be calling me. I didn't do anything. I didn't even drive any of the cars out.

"Where are you, and why are you not in your room?" His deep voice rumbled over the line.

Trust my father to make sure I'm not ruining the reputation he has built and is still building.

"I stepped out for air, Father."

"Well, get back here. There's a family meeting." He paused. "And your presence is needed at once."

"Okay," I answered, taken aback as to why my presence would suddenly be needed during a family meeting. "Any reason why I'm needed?" I asked.

"Be here in the next 40 mins; we have important news."

He hung up immediately.

Did something happen? What's going on? Did someone die or get sick? I'm feeling so uneasy; so many questions are racing through my mind right now.

I didn't have an answer, but I knew one thing.

This important news wouldn't bode well for me.