Daredevil

CAMILLA
~•~
Freddie leered at me like I was crazy. Perhaps I was crazy, maybe there was something wrong with me. Maybe I did need the help of a psychotherapist and psychologist such as myself - no! Better.
"Camilla, this isn't going to end well for you, I can almost feel it." He stated, but I was Too high up in the clouds of my determination to listen to anything he had to say. I had a plan, a solid plan...well, I did not. But, he did not have to know that.
"Freddie, I love you, you know I do, but you worry too much! I have this under control. Trust me."
That night, I managed to close my eyes and retire to sleep after much thinking. I did not know what I would do. Freddie only let me have my way because he knew I would do so anyway, but, how could I change mister Ivan's mind? It was clear that the man did not like me, and his butler gave me cold shoulders except it was overly necessary for him to be polite. No one in that house liked me.
I did not dwell my thoughts on that, I could not. Immediately I woke up the next morning, I hurried over to the bathroom and took a clean, thorough shower, and scrubbed as hard as could.
I got dressed in a casual pair of black jeans, and a white sleeved shirt.
Don't…do not look at me like that.
I was fired anyway, there was no need to dress overly formal when all I was going there to do was try to get my job back.
Freddie was having breakfast by the time I rushed downstairs, twirling my keys to house around my right index finger.
The strong aroma of coffee and toast with spinach greeted my nostrils. I scurried over to the dinning table and leaned into him. His dark eyes glared up at me and I blew him a kiss, before stealing a slice of bread from his plate.
"Camilla…" He started to scold me, but I cut in with a broad smile, even though my heart thrummed against the muscular walls of my chest and my knees could barely keep me standing.
"Come on Freddie…" I raised the toast up to my face.
"...one for the road?"
I watched him scoff, shake his head and look back down at his plate. I chuckled lightly - a forced one - and found my way out of the house, through the door.
I booked a cab straight for his estate. The drive was short, but I could swear I had been sitting on the black leather seat for over a year. Unauthorized cabs were not allowed past the estate gates, so I got down from the car, walked past the gates and managed to find another cab willing to take me to house 32. That was his house number, right?
I could not lie. With every house we drove past, there was a loud voice in my head screaming at me. It continued to yell, telling me this was a bad idea, I was doing something I was going to regret, I would only wind up getting arrested, or worse, given a restraining order. There were lots of embarrassing ways I could end up, but I struggled to keep my mind off every one of them.
I stopped the cab at house 30. Yes. I did not want anyone to see me coming.
Great, Camilla Theodore! How did I go from being a confident psychologist to sneaking around people's estate, and showing up unwanted in their houses?
I DO NOT KNOW.
But, there I was anyway.
I walked my way from house 30 to house 32, which was a journey that took longer than I expected. When I stood in front of the door of house 32, beads of cold sweat ran down my forehead, and formed a nasty pool around my neck, soaking the collar of my shirt.
California's sun was never friendly in spring.
My eyes danced around the huge wooden door over three times, before I mustered the courage to raise my shaking hands and press the door bell. I could hear it ring in the house from where I stood. I crossed both my hands in front of my chest and closed my eyes shut.
"Cross my heart and hope to die. Cross my heart and hope to die." I continued to repeat it to myself, even though I knew I was using that phrase in the wrong context.
In that moment, I heard the creaking sound of the hinges of the door, and I could tell it had been opened. If my heart was beating too fast before, it's pace trippled in that moment. I had been so confident that I would be able to speak, but now that I knew the door was open, I wanted nothing more than to turn my back and run as fast as I could.
My left eye opened, before my right followed and my hands fell from my chest. The Italian butler stood in front of the door with his hands folded behind him. He had his right brow arched in query while his eyes stared down into mine like I was a stray dog he found at the foot of his door step.
A nervous smile broke out from my lips. I was trying my best to keep my shit together, and I was failing at it - terribly.
I waved my small right hand at him.
"Good morning."
He did not return my wave, or my smile.
"You did not get the message yesterday? Mister Ivan said he would not need you anymore, I am very sorry. But, you would be compensated for…"
I did not know when a frown formed on my face. How did he know the content of the email so well? Of course he did! He was the one who wrote it!
Anyway, here goes the daredevil in me!