Camila Montes Novels & Stories

He was mute and his gaze travelled from her head down to her toes, she saw something in those grey eyes of his, something she'd seen the day he had kissed her. "I..I wan...want to go and see Cara" Dala stuttered "I'll tell one of the my subjects to accompany you and show you directions and to ensure you return...safely" kamur said On her way to find Cara, she saw a figure from afar that looked like that of Princess Amira. She had to find out. "Who could that be?" She asked the lady who Kamur had asked to follow her anywhere she wanted to go. More like her maid. Her name was Sita

I quickly step out to see a woman whose voice sounded awfully familiar, arguing with Delilah, the only model acquaintance I got along with because she was just as bitchy and spoilt as me. “You think I am a loser with no friends. Okay, first of all you couldn’t be more wrong, I have a lot of friends, Elizabeth, Victoria, Danika…..umm...my mother, my grandmother who, fun fact, knitted this sweater for me.” The woman said proudly as she gave Delilah what she thought was a savage reply. Yep, that’s Emily. Delilah just shook her head as she tried to process Emily’s personality, “What’s going on?” I intervene before the fight gets out of hand.

The veteran talk show host, known for her probing questions and hard-hitting exclusives, had fallen for Camila’s act completely. Camila had played the part of the heartbroken, abandoned woman flawlessly. “Alejandro and I have something real,” she was saying. “You can’t erase history. You can’t deny a bond like ours.” Maya nodded sympathetically, clearly eating this up. “And what about Estella?” she asked. “His wife?” Camila sighed dramatically, as if the mere mention of my name pained her. Then Maya pressed a hand to her earpiece, listening as the producers fed her urgent information.

She knew something about the consortium. "Fair questions, I suppose. I'm Camila Cueva, my sisters call me Mila. I'm a changeling like you, but from upriver. And, my sister and I are merely passing by on our way to find someone in Manaus. We can't help that our mothers want to take care of us…"

The closer Isabella gets, the quieter the area becomes. "Alejandro." A graceful smile appears on her face, but I know her well enough to see the tension under. "I wasn't told you were attending." "Last minute decision." Her eyes move toward Camila. "And this must be your wife." Camila extends her hand. "Camila Reyes." Isabella accepts it. "Isabella Hart." The handshake lasts exactly two seconds. Long enough. "I've heard a lot about you," Isabella says smoothly. Camila smiles. "Really? That's interesting because until tonight, I didn't even know you existed."

Her eyes were fixed on the monitor, where Camila West was currently pacing the boardroom floor. Camila was a vision of calculated corporate power. She wore a striking, blood-red designer pantsuit, a stark contrast to the muted tones of Monroe Global's minimalist architecture. Her diamond studs caught the fluorescent light, and her posture was rigid with a supreme, unearned confidence. Following the explosive fallout at the gala, Camila had taken it upon herself to intercept the Monroe Global rejection. She wanted to prove to Helena Knight—and more importantly, to a distant, rebellious Xavier—that the West media machine could move mountains that the Knights couldn't.

As if summoned, there’s a knock on the door. A young woman enters. She’s small. Pretty. Her smile is warm and genuine. “Your Highness,” she says, bowing to Ryker. Then to me. “Princess.” I flinch at the title. “I’m not—” “She’s not comfortable with titles yet,” Ryker interrupts smoothly. “Camila, this is Rhea. My mate. Rhea, this is Camila. She’ll be assisting you while you’re here.” Camila’s smile brightens. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

"I know, but Damon…" My mother had suddenly appeared at the door, attracted by the brewing noise; her eyes had grown wide as she spotted Damon and Cassandra half-naked. "What is the meaning of this, Damon? Annie, why are you sobbing?" Cassandra seized the opportunity. She pointed at the pizza I mistakenly spilled on the floor. "Look, Mrs. Scarlett! Your ‘precious’ daughter tried to sneak in and attack Damon! She's trying to get obsessed with him! She doesn't want to accept that the Alpha already chose me. Your daughter keeps doing crazy things even when I'm the true Luna. I have been waiting for this poor thing of yours to leave him for me!"

“She’s here on his behalf. And she’s a total pretending bitch.” Val raised a brow. “Don’t be fooled by her cute face,” Camila went on, swirling the champagne in her glass. “She’s got the whole sweet, innocent thing down perfectly. But trust me—she belongs in hell.” Val tilted her head slightly, intrigued despite herself. “How so?”

a familiar voice called out warmly. Adriana turned to see Camila Romero, one of her earliest and most loyal investors. The older woman’s silver hair was swept into a low bun, her emerald gown catching the light as she smiled. “Camila,” Adriana greeted, hugging her lightly. “It’s wonderful to see you. How’s business?” “Thriving. Your last investment model paid off handsomely. I owe you another bottle of vintage.” Camila stated, her eyes twinkling. In-between, Eros offered a polite nod and said, “A pleasure meeting you, Ms. Camila.”