Camila Montes Novels & Stories

“Camellia Lane. You’ll wear the green.” The Montaldis weren’t friends. They were power brokers. Legacy adjacent, but neutral. Old money. No scandals. Which made them valuable — and manipulable. Matteo kept informal ties through charity boards. Camila respected their social weight like gospel. “No,” Elise said. Camila blinked. “Elise, it was a request.” “They’ll survive the refusal.” Her tone was steel. Camila’s lip tightened. Just a fraction. She didn’t answer. But her silence wasn’t calm — it was weighted.

I replied, my tone carefully level. “Oh—Camila’s working? Where?” came Adriana’s voice, light with surprise. She had appeared tonight without warning, joining the family for dinner with the ease of someone already quite at home. “She’s working at Javier’s company, Adriana. Today was her very first day as a marketing staff member,” Mama explained, unmistakable pride threading through her words. I answered with a polite smile and a small nod in Adriana’s direction. Behind that smile, my chest remained compressed, still aching with a bruised, persistent pain every time the memory of what I’d witnessed in Javier’s office that afternoon circled back through my mind.

Camila followed, her demeanor calm and composed, carrying a bouquet of fresh roses. “Oh, Tessa! Our darling damsel in distress!” Jamie exclaimed, his voice echoing through the room. Tessa blinked, surprised. “Jamie? Camila? How did you know I was here?” Camila smiled gently. “Don Pedro informed me. There’s a new real estate contract with a company expanding into Africa. He asked me to handle the presentation since you’re unwell.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “Camila, must you always talk about work? We’re here to cheer up our friend, not discuss business.”

At this point, whatever you say to Vince Mendoza is useless, with a capital ‘U’. I just stare at him for a moment and take my leave. I beeline to my study to get some work done. Shipments, ass kissing politicians and blah fucking blah. I probably lose track of time because by the time she interrupts, it’s evening. Adela Montes stands before me in a very light piece of clothing that leaves nothing to the imagination. My eyes rake over her body, from the swell of her breasts, to the dip of her waist and the curve of her hips. Pity I can’t see down to those shapely legs is hers.

" His voice was flat and toneless. She looked at Rosé who was wrapped in Xavier's arms. "Rosé." "Milla." Camilla rolled her eyes. She hated being called that and Rosé knew, that perfectly well. Xavier was the only one who was a bit confused as to what was happening. Damian sighed and Camilla stretched a hand towards Xavier for a handshake. "Nice to meet you in person Mr. Monterosa." Xavier took her hand and shook it gently. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss..?" "Winters. Camilla Winters." They let go of each other and

Lucas leaned forward, his face inching close like he was about to kiss her. She smirked, pulled back, and pecked his forehead instead. “I’m famished. Let’s order something real quick.” ****** MEXICO. It was 10 PM when Camila finally stood before a door. Her luggage was sitting down. She pressed the bell once, twice. Moments later, the door opened. “Hi,” a cheerful voice greeted. A woman in her mid-thirties stood there, her smile open. “How may I help?” Camila didn’t answer at first. Her eyes traveled up and down, scanning the woman from head to toe. She searched for any resemblance to Smith, his face, his eyes, his jawline, but found none.

Is there something wrong with me lately. I'm still lost in thought as Ara orders food, and a woman's voice makes me look ahead. "Oh my God, Ozgur Doğan. Is that you?" "Camila, you?" I smiled in disbelief at this, I saw who was in front of me more clearly. Camila Mendez. She is a latin woman with long wavy brunette hair, and she has exotic skin. The woman I fought with Abellard, she is here. The woman immediately walked towards me, and she hugged me. What's worse, she greeted me by kissing my cheek.

She sputters. “Okay, what are you hiding from me?” I demand. “I’m a big girl, Sky; I can take it.” She bites down on her bottom lip before she shows me the phone again, reading aloud. “Camila Monroe, the next big star in Nashville, has been recorded spending time with men much older than her. It was discovered that someone at the bar had shown up to record her, and Camila expresses that she is being set up.”