C5 Meeting Mr Holloway

IVAN

~•~

"Your new therapist would be arriving this morning sir. I trust that you are very excited." Antonio's voice rang in my ears, as he walked into my room, to open my curtains; as usual.

From where I lay, strapped to my bed - thanks to him, he had refused to let me out of his sight since my last...incident - I looked up from my palms to him.

He stood by the window, heaved a long sigh, and turned to me, his arms placed behind his back.

"You're bringing another one of your shrinks to my house," I said aloud. I didn't need them, I didn't want them. None of them had done anything to help, and this one wasn't going to be any different.

Antonio's eyes narrowed on me as he slightly shook his head. I could tell he pitied me, and I hated it.

I had everything that I needed at my beck and call. Money, in millions, cars in their numbers, a prestigious name and an equally prestigious house, and women, in their numbers. Yet, the one thing that my heart yearned for the most, is what I did not have.

My wife, and my daughter.

Nothing made sense. Every day I tried to put it together, and make sense of it in my head. But it was always impossible to.

My jaw hardened as I sat up straight.

Why? I had always asked myself. Where had I gotten it wrong? Even if I had done something wrong, Sarah could have at least filed for a divorce. That way, I would have been able to see my daughter once in a while.

Instead, she disappeared into thin air. Without the tiniest trace. It was almost as though she did not exist.

It killed me to think about it all the time.

"I worry about you, sir. What happened the last time was..." He paused, cleared his throat, and straightened his stance. It was a gesture he made whenever he realized he was about to say something that would annoy me.

I frowned and focused my eyes on him. He noticed my blue eyes darken and he smiled nervously.

"I am just doing my best to ensure that your health is being put first, sir. You have left quite a strong legacy behind. It would be a shame for you to..." He stopped abruptly again, and I knew what he was about to say.

It would be a shame for me to push myself to my death, without having anyone to give me all my wealth. I wondered what would become of it. I had never written a will before, I had never even thought of it.

Now that I didn't have a family - except you count my younger brother, but we weren't the best brothers on earth - and I never saw myself giving everything I had worked for to charity.

I would have said Antonio, but I was sure my butler didn't have first-hand knowledge of running a business. He would also be forced to sell the company. And I did not want someone to sell my company either.

Antonio moved to my wardrobe, opened it, and pulled out a pair of back joggers and a black sweatshirt for me.

"So, I would get you dressed, and move you to your study where she would be meeting you..." He stopped and glanced down at his clock. His left brow arched as he did so.

"One hour." He dropped the clothes on my bed and rolled my wheelchair from the distal end of my room to my bedside.

"Please, sir. I need you to promise me that you would give this one a chance. I need you to give yourself a chance this time."

His old eyes were laced with concern. I could see it clearly, they sparkled in his eyes like fireflies in the nighttime.

But I could not make any promises. The last time I made a promise to someone, they left and never returned.

I sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder, while he tried to help me into my wheelchair.

~•~

CAMILLA

~•~

I was going to be late for my first job if I didn't turn up in the next five minutes.

I pressed the home button of my phone to look at the time, as I walked briskly, in my short block heels.

Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead, and I could tell that my brown powder went right along with it.

Great. I was turning up for my first day at work sweaty as hell. I should have listened to Fredrick and put on a short-sleeved dress instead. But I didn't.

I wanted to appear corporate and "ready for business." However, it looked like I was only going to get there looking like I had no idea what I was doing.

I slipped my fingers into my bag and brought out the notebook I had written the address of the house. I knew I was in the right estate, I just needed to be sure of the house number.

"32." I read aloud, as my eyes skimmed the paper. I sighed and looked up at the houses.

I was currently standing in front of house 29, and I could see from the layout of the houses, their lawns, and the environment in total, that this was a typical rich people neighborhood. The Italian who had called me must have been extremely rich, I thought.

From what I had seen and heard about New Haven, only politicians and top-notch movie stars could afford to live in places like this.

What was he? Some kind of undercover drug lord?

Okay, that was very stereotypical of me, but you understand what I'm trying to say, don't you?

I increased my speed until I found house 32. The numbers 3 and 2 were boldly engraved on his mailbox and I couldn't help but smile at the creativity.

My pace increased as I walked up the steps, and headed towards the front door. When I got there, I cleared my throat, slipped my phone back into my bag, and knocked at the door gently.

I had already elapsed my five minutes, and that scared me. I had heard Italians were very impatient with their time.

On the second knock, the door opened in front of me.

I prepared my killer smile and tried to appear confident. Even though my palms were sweating my legs were wobbling beneath me. He didn't need to know that, not at all.

My lips spread apart in a smile, and he looked over me carefully.

The elderly man standing in front of me was tall, taller than any old man I had ever seen before.

"Miss Camilla Theodore?" He asked aloud, looking down at me as though I had come to the front of his door to beg for food.

However, I could not understand the Italian accent and the rudeness in the voice. It was just like the one that had called me.

But, he was a butler, I could see it from his white and black uniform.

I had to keep my head high though. I was not going to let this man intimidate me.

"Yes. I am." I said out loud.

He looked away from me, and opened the door, ushering me to come in.

One foot into the house was all it took for me to be mesmerized.

The cold breeze that fanned my face from the air conditioner mounted all over what appeared to be a grand library, sent chills down my spine, and the good kind.

I closed my eyes to savor the moment. I had not been in anything like this in a long time - no disrespect to Freddie's house - and it was...mentally soothing.

"When you are done enjoying the scenery, I want us to get this shit show over with as soon as possible."

The voice rang a bell in my head. It was coming from a distal end of the room, and it did not belong to the Italian man at the door.

So, who was...

I opened my eyes slowly and turned in the direction of the voice.

My eyes landed on hard blue ones, and my heart skipped three beats at once.