Flavours of love

Camiela's Perspective:

"Ms Rodriguez?" The rhythmic tapping of my fingers on the computer keyboard paused as I pulled out my earphones, turning my attention to the office entrance. My head tilted, and I raised a brow inquisitively.

Olivia stood there, a friendly smile on her face. "It's getting late, and I was heading out. I thought I'd pop in and let you know."

A sigh escaped me as I stretched in my seat, checking the wall clock directly in front of me. "Oh, damn," I exclaimed, "it's seven. Has The Fortress opened already?"

She nodded. "They just opened a few minutes ago."

"Then I should drop by on my way home," I decided, rising from my chair and collecting my belongings, neatly tucking them into my purse before shutting down the computer. "Don't give them a warning," I warned with a playful finger pointed at her.

"I'm sworn to your secrecy," she teased, putting a finger to her lips.

Scoffing jokingly, I walked toward her. "Funny how you said the same thing last time. I just can't find loyalty around here, can I? First Mr Job—" 

"Our lovely janitor," she mused. 

"Now my assistant. The betrayal is getting too real, Olivia." I shook my head. 

"So are your extra working hours, Camiela. You run one gallery from nine in the morning to seven in the evening and then open up the other one from seven in the evening to four in the morning." 

"I don't stay there until four in the morning," I explained, closing my office door and hearing the lock click before we walked down the hallway toward the elevator.

"You would if you could," she argued.

"Well, I couldn't even if I wanted to. Joke's on me," I chuckled.

"I will never understand you or your business. Who owns two galleries and runs them at alternate hours like this?" she questioned as we got in the elevator.

"Me. One for the day birds in this city and one for those who stay up all night," I shrugged, grinning. "Equality."

"Practicality", she agreed.

"And money."

"Of course, money," she chuckled with a nod.

As we reached the lobby and headed toward the exit, we went our separate ways. Olivia left, and I lingered to make sure security locked up the main gates. Crossing the empty parking lot to my black Mercedes Benz, I unlocked the car and got in the driver's seat. I locked the doors, released a quick breath, tossed my purse in the passenger seat, started the car, and played music with a soft hum. "Let's go," I mumbled to myself, buckling up and driving off to my second gallery, just five minutes from the first.

The Fortress and Zion were both my galleries but entirely different. Zion was, for the first half of the day, bright and light, with a polished sugarcoat on everything inside. The fortress operated later in the day, with dark interiors, paintings hiding secrets, and nothing but silence and stolen whispers.

I parked the car in the partially busy lot and got out, tossing my keys to our valet, Jacob. "Keep those for me, Jacob," I smiled.

"Yes, ma'am," he grinned, saluting with two fingers as I walked through the gates and into the building, swiping my ID through the staff's entrance. My heels echoed on the polished marble tiles as I walked to the escalator that brought me out of the basement and to the first floor of our gallery.

Both galleries followed the same idea—each floor had a different theme.

Slowing down, I strolled through the crowds, mostly people who had come alone. Going up each floor using stairs and escalators, I reached the private elevator that only Olivia and I had access to, leading straight to my office here. Before I even got on it, my phone rang.

I've been waiting for that.

Taking my phone out, my finger tapped the back of my phone for five beats before I answered. "Dad," I greeted.

"Why haven't you left yet, Cammy?" He sighed in frustration, and I could picture him pinching his nose as he paced his bedroom in his pyjamas. 

"I'm at work." 

"It's getting late." 

"It's hardly past seven, Dad. I'll be fine. You don't need to send anybody," I replied, rolling my eyes. 

"You shouldn't be staying out late; for the time being, we went over this, Tesoro," he scolded, but it sounded more like whining to me. 

"I can't skip out on work because of your work, Dad. I'll leave in an hour at most anyway; I'm tired today," I lied halfheartedly, crossing my fingers in front of me. "Look, I need to go, but I will let you know when I'm leaving and when I reach home, okay? Love you, bye." 

"Ti voglio bene," he said softly as I heard my mom in the background. 

"Fernando, I'm trying to sleep here!" 

I bit back a laugh and hung up before pressing the button of the elevator. 

"Ms Rodriguez!" 

I spun around as Leah, an agent at the gallery, came rushing over and panting. "What's wrong?" I frowned in confusion, glancing behind her. 

"There are clients demanding to see you." 

"See me? You know I don't meet buyers without appointments, Leah." 

"I know, but they're two women. They want to buy Mirror of Fatality. They're arguing over the painting and tonight is—" 

"The last night it's on display," I finished for her. Starting off, I contemplated whether going down and trying to argue with two frustrated clients would be worth it. "Sell it to the highest bidder among the two and offer the other woman a different painting as an apology. Whether she's smart enough to take it or storm off, leave that up to her." 

Leah nodded quickly and rushed back downstairs. 

After waiting for a few minutes, I headed downstairs anyway to make sure nothing went wrong. Going by unnoticed, I walked around the floor, observing the exchange between our agent and the two clients. Luckily, without too much chaos, the matter was settled, and both women walked away satisfied with their purchases. 

Once the spot was empty, I walked to the painting and stood in front of it, staring at the painting as it displayed a woman with her back tilted towards the viewer with a golden framed mirror on the other side. While we saw the sharp and beautiful half of her face, the mirror showed an ugly, rotting side. 

"I wonder how much money she makes running these galleries," someone mumbled as footsteps walked past me. 

I glanced over from the corner of my eye as two girls whispered, strolling around and gossiping. 

"Probably more than she needs. She's Fernando Rodriguez's daughter; how much money could she possibly need anyway? Princess has her Daddy's money as it is," the other girl scoffed. 

"And how much money does Daddy's Princess need, exactly?" I asked, stopping at the painting beside where they stood. They stopped abruptly, spinning to face me as I kept my hands behind my back, my heel tapping on the floor as I waited for an answer. "How was Milan, Nancy?" I questioned with a smile. 

"It was good... Camiela," she mumbled hesitantly. 

"Good," I nodded. "Are you here for another painting?" 

"We, uh, we're just looking." 

I hummed. "Go ahead. Look." 

They hesitantly retreated before turning back around and walking away. 

I huffed in annoyance, glancing around the place, my gaze getting caught on a man who stood at the other end of the room, staring at a blank spot on the wall left from a painting that was sold earlier tonight. 

My eyes travelled across his clothes, from the black slacks to the black button-up that stretched across his broad shoulders. He almost turned around as if he felt my gaze on him but instead walked to the exit without giving a glimpse of his face and left. 

My phone rang again in my purse, snapping me out of it. "Dad", I answered, suppressing my annoyance. 

"At home, Camiela. Now," he ordered. 

I glanced at my watch and rolled my eyes. "All right. I'm going." I hung up after saying 'bye' and walked back out of the gallery, immensely agitated. 

"Leaving so soon, Ms Rodriguez?" Jacob asked, unlocking the car for me with a little frown. 

"Daughter duty calls, Jacob. I'll see you tomorrow; goodnight." I waved him bye and started the car, driving off to my apartment straight away. 

No matter how hard I tried, my life was hardly mine to live. With parents and an older brother constantly on my ass about my safety and whereabouts and people all around me trying to tell me what to do, there was only one thing I could do to shut them out. Give them all a big 'fuck you' and just keep doing what I did best. Run a business and make a lot of money. Oh, and have a bit of fun along the way. 

I'm here anyway, right?