Sold to the Billionaire CEO

Chapter 4

I stood and waited as Camille stepped into the grand foyer of my estate. I watched her eyes scan the opulent decor with a sense of detachment. She had grown up in a world of luxury, her father's wealth and influence having afforded her every privilege imaginable.

But as she looked around at the lavish home, I couldn't help but feel sympathy towards her. This was her new life now, one that she had never truly wanted. But I didn't care.

My hand wrapped around hers, my eyes brightening with fake excitement as I led her through the sprawling mansion. Camille’s face held a strong frown.

She snapped my grip off her. I noticed it and said nothing. She might've been compelled to marry me but now she was stuck in my gilded cage, forced to play the role of the perfect wife.

As we made our way to the bedroom, my thoughts turned to the compromises I had made. I had always been independent, used to making my own decisions and forging my own path.

But now, as Camille's husband, I was expected to conform to a certain standard, to be a trophy husband and nothing more.

I walked to a mini bar at the corner of the bedroom and poured myself a glass of scotch vodka to ease the raging thoughts in my head.

The bedroom was a serene oasis, with soft gray walls and a plush carpet that felt like silk beneath my feet. Camille's eyes widened as she took in the stunning view of the city skyline, the lights twinkling like diamonds in the distance.

But even the beauty of the view couldn't lift her spirits.

I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the bedroom, gazing out at the city skyline as I continued to take in every sip. I felt a sense of satisfaction wash over me, but it had nothing to do with the woman standing behind me, unwilling to unpack her bags.

“Still nervous?” I asked while I buried my lips between the glass as I kept drinking. Camille shared a stern look before keeping her face down on her phone, strolling through something that I didn't care about.

“I could just—”

“You could just stay on your own, Mr Mario" she stopped me. The firmness in her voice stood out and for a moment, I felt my skin jump off.

Maybe I had underestimated her. She wasn't quiet or naive. She was a b***h, a wild one too.

I turned to the window to drown in my thoughts.

I had succeeded in marrying her, just as I had planned. But it wasn’t enough. I still had to tame her, make her know her place. And to get what I needed, a way to get closer to the truth about who had murdered my brother.

My eyes narrowed as I thought about it. I had been searching for years, following every lead, every hint, every rumor. And finally, I had found a way to get close to the killer.

And it was through Camille. Who knew if all those she was away, if she was hiding something from her family.

I turned to face Camille, a grin spreading across my face. "Welcome to our home, Camille," he announced, his voice dripping with sincerity, one that I managed to make up. "I'm so glad you're here." I was definitely not glad but I had no choice.

Camille looked up at me, a hint of wariness in her eyes. A part of me almost wanted to tell her to freshen up and go to sleep but the spoiled little brat still needed taming.

"I know this is all a bit overwhelming," he whispered, my voice low and soothing as I knelt before her, acting sympathetic and genuine.

"But don't worry, I'll take care of everything. You just focus on being my beautiful wife."

Camille's eyes flashed with anger, but I just smiled and leaned in to kiss her. I knew that, she'd burn down hell to get out of this marriage with me. But that was okay. I just needed her to get me the evidence I needed.

And I would stop at nothing to get them.

It was a night that I had to leave my bed and go over to the couch. I couldn't sleep throughout the night, each air I breathed reminded me that nothing was mine alone anymore.

"Good morning," I said, my voice low and smooth.

Camille nodded, still feeling a bit groggy. "Morning."

"We need to talk" I said in a low but firm voice

I led Camille to the my study, a room filled with dark wood paneling and leather-bound books. I gestured for her to take a seat, and she did, her eyes fixed warily on me.

"Camille, I think it's time we discussed our expectations for our marriage," I began. I positioned myself for her reactions and response.

Camille's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing, waiting for me to continue.

"As you know, our marriage was—arranged for lack of a better term," I said, my eyes glinting with calculation.

"Your family was eager for us to marry. And I had no choice."

“You are Garrett Mario, the famous billionaire who could have anything and anyone with just the snap of his fingers. You could have said no because I'm not even worth your time here." She laughed sarcastically.

I felt intimidated and I didn't like it. Camille's face remained expressionless, but her eyes flashed with anger. She knew that her family had pushed her into it, and she resented me for taking advantage of her situation.

Keeping my cool, I went on, "I expect you to fulfill your duties as my wife, trust me, you do not want to get on my bad side,” my voice cold andunyielding.

"You must attend social events with me, support me in my professional endeavors, and maintain a perfect public image."

Camille's shoulders sagged in frustration. She exhaled, turning back her attention to her phone, not minding what I had spewed to her.

"Yeah, I get it. But just have it at the back of you head that this marriage will be the death of you" she warned as she abruptly stood up and walked out of the study room.

I remained impassive, but a hint of satisfaction flickered in me. I knew I liked how she fought against my words. I was surely going to enjoy getting the truth out of her.