Page 63 of Surprise! I'm Engaged To My Boss
“It should be,” I said, drawing her attention to myself. “Camila is my fiancée, I asked the Harrises to include her name.”
The woman seemed to get tense with that. She knew me, she knew that, besides being an influential figure, I was none other than the birthday girl's father. So, she apologized – even though it wasn't her mistake – and allowed Camila to pass.
As soon as she took a few steps into the yard, however, she couldn't say a single word. As soon as she approached me, we were surrounded by a dozen photographers.
While they were asking for a photo – which was actually several, and they were already being taken before we even agreed – they kept talking about finally having a photo of Michael Turner with his fiancée.
“Can you two get closer to each other, please?” one of the photographers asked.
My true desire was to tell those idiots to go fuck themselves, and I could see on Camila's face that she shared the same thought. However, that wouldn't be very smart of us. And, to tell the truth, having photos of us together appear in the press was, after all, a very positive thing for my case.
So, I grabbed Camila's hand and pulled her closer to me. We both smiled for the camera, holding hands and leaning our shoulders against each other, like a couple of teenagers at a family party, trying to make a good impression on their parents while maintaining minimal physical contact.
The photographers, logically, were not satisfied with this.
“A picture with a kiss would be great,” one of them suggested, his idea immediately approved by the others.
Camila and I exchanged glances, both of us slightly embarrassed by the situation. Well, truthfully, her face was burning red, and I was feeling guilty for putting her in that position. It would look pretty bad if we refused what seemed like a simple request made to a supposedly engaged couple.
She gave me a small smile and nodded slightly, as if to say it was okay. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time we kissed. We had already done that a few days ago when I took her home. And, well... we did a lot the night we met.
So, we closed our eyes and leaned in, pressing our lips together in a soft peck. It was just a sweet, innocent kiss—more innocent than the one before. Yet, somehow, it sent sparks through every cell in my body.
Especially in one very particular part, and I just hoped it wouldn't be too obvious in the photos.
Even with my eyes closed, I could tell by the flurry of flashes that a ton of pictures were being taken. I was pretty sure that not even the birthday girl would be the center of attention like we were.
Our staged kiss lasted only a few seconds before I took Camila’s hand again and led her toward the table where my mother was waiting, leaving the photographers behind. My fake fiancée went straight to greet her fake mother-in-law.
“My dear, I heard today is your birthday as well. Congratulations!” my mother said.
I sat back down, watching as the two of them hugged. I had always assumed that if I ever got into a serious relationship, my mother would immediately find a million flaws in the woman — just like she did with Bonnie at first — but that wasn’t even close to what happened.
The two of them finally sat down and spent a few more minutes chatting, until my mother stood up again and announced, “Well, I spotted a few familiar faces. I’ll go mingle a little with this bunch of old folks and leave the young couple alone for a while.”
Camila replied sincerely, “But you’re not old at all.”
And just like that, she had completely won my mother over, who gently caressed her face before turning to me.
“You really have a lot to learn from this girl, my son.”
With that, she walked off to greet some acquaintances at nearby tables.
Now finally alone with Camila, I took the chance to apologize for what had happened at the entrance, “I’m really sorry about all that.”
“It’s part of the deal,” she replied, falling back into what was becoming her standard answer.
And honestly, it was starting to get under my skin.
At that moment, our attention, along with everyone else’s, shifted to the arrival of the birthday girl, escorted by her grandparents.
I stood up right away, wanting nothing more than to run to my daughter, scoop her up in my arms, and wish her a happy birthday. But I quickly realized that wasn’t going to happen so easily.
Photographers swarmed her like flies to honey, and guests crowded around as well, creating a scene that, for many, might have seemed glamorous — but for me, it was suffocating.
And I could tell Alice felt the same, because she soon burst into tears, overwhelmed by the crowd around her.
Acting on instinct, I rushed over, pushing my way through the small crowd. When I reached her, I practically snatched her from Margaret’s arms. She andher husband shot me furious looks but tried to keep it together in front of the reporters.
