Page 120 of Wanted
“I can’t do it,” my sister blurted out. Her fingers hovered above the buttons of the elevator.
“One dinner,” I told her. “And then we’ll be out of here. You don’t even have to eat. Pretend you’ve been fed the come of your men.”
“That will only get me into trouble,” Kamila pouted, lowering her gaze. “Although it’s very much true…”
“Hey.” I cleared my throat. “You have nothing to be afraid of. I’m here, and I’m sure Travis and Jordan have a way into that room, too. They can’t touch you.”
At first, it was a hiccup, but then it turned into full-on sobbing. Kamila turned away from me in an attempt to hide her tears. I witnessed her emotional slump, and I hated the fuck out of it. Days like these I wished for Winters to take her away from this bullshit. I wanted to be near my sister, but at what price? She’d suffered the most out of all of us, and we were all to blame.
“I spent most of my life thinking I killed mom,” she revealed, gutting me. Baffled, I stood there. I didn’t understand what she’d just uttered. “We fought a lot before she… Died. When they said she committed suicide, I thought I was to blame.”
“You weren’t. Even if it had been suicide. You were a teenager and in no way responsible for a grown woman’s misery. Kamila, what is this nonsense?” I approached her for an embrace, but she flinched away from me.
“I hated her, Weston.”
“You didn’t,” I insisted.
“But I did.” The sobs my sister let out cut my heart open. She went on, “I despised her. I was supposed to be the special girl, but where was my special treatment? You two were golden boys. Daddy let you have everything. You walked around without a worry in the world. Meanwhile, I—”
“What? Did you want to make fake friends? Is that your aspiration in life? We behaved like mini-Arams. I’m pretty sure we could be sent to a sex punishment house for the bullshit we pulled,” I told her. “Kamila, you were special to mom. She loved you to death. You were her entire universe. Aris and I were there, but we were on the outside. She let us get away with our shit because her entire focus was on you. Special is your middle name.”
Kamila’s chest heaved. She leaned against the elevator’s mirror for support. Barely a whisper, she said, “I-I know all that now.”
“Good.”
“I wasted my life on a lie. I could’ve done so much more. I should’ve gone to college like you two did. All I did was get fucked by Aram. Where was all that strength my mom conditioned me to have? It evaporated. I don’t want to be like that anymore,” Kamila confessed. I heard her intake of deep breaths. “I have to do better. My body doesn’t agree yet, but I’ll get it there. I have to be strong for Fylox. He needs me. Alex deserves to have a whole partner, somebody who’s worthy of his goodness. I can’t be a shell of my teenage self.”
“Whatever you need, I’ll help you out,” I vowed. I’d seen my sister break often. She’d relapse, beg me for forgiveness. She wasn’t begging now. I felt proud of her for realizing what she needed to accomplish for her future.
“I want to leave Katantia,” Kamila blurted out. Shouts and knocks from outside the elevator broke the silence that followed Kamila’s statement. It was evident that my sister’s focus had shifted elsewhere. Her husband had a career in the States, and he couldn’t leave that behind to live on a shady sex island.
I never thought it’d come down to this.
“Is everything all right down there?”
“What’s going on?”
“We’re getting help for you!”
Before we could discuss what she’d revealed, the elevator started moving again. Kamila patted her tears away, fixing her make-up with the help of the elevator’s mirror. She sniffled. Once the doors opened, she was Katantia’s princess and not a sobbing mess.
“The king and Mr. Rawlins are expecting you. You’re late,” one of the staff called out. He was an old employee of ours. His clothes were fixed, just right, and without dirt on his shoes. His chest was puffed out, proudly displaying the Katantian emblem on his jacket’s pocket.
“Thanks a lot, Lance,” Kamila addressed the man. Of course, she knew his name. “We’ll get to it then.”
We followed the staff across the familiar halls. Men were stationed at every other door. My father didn’t have that much security. He believed in his power over Katantians too much. This must have been the work of Spencer Rawlins.
After a knock on the door and curious glances from the guards protecting this door, the staff member that had escorted us to the room pushed the door open. Spencer and Aram sat at the end of a long glass table that was set for four. Candles were lit at the center of the table, proudly displaying a gold miniature version of the palace. One of the sheiks that frequented our country had gifted it to us three years ago.
“You can go now. I’ll let you know when you shall serve dinner,” Aram instructed the staff. One after the other, they left the room with their heads bowed. It could’ve been an occasion like any other. Official dinners were frequent when we didn’t have a national crisis like Kamila escaping Katantia.
As they sat next to each other, I couldn’t miss the similarities in their faces, similar noses, and silver eyes. We were a family of tall men. Spencer wasn’t any different. He was bulkier than my father, in all the wrong places. Snob and entitled, his attitude didn’t allow you to judge him. He had numbers of money that my sister and I never even considered.
There was something off about my father today. He didn’t ogle my sister. He didn’t grace us with his usual crude remarks about her body. Instead, my father stared at the tiny golden imitation of our palace on the table. Spencer Rawlins sat next to him, but they were miles away mentally. Mandy’s dad watched us with intentions I couldn’t interpret.
Kamila and I took our allocated seats at the other end of the table.
My sister, ever the rulebreaker, commented, “What’s the occasion? Spit it out. We don’t have all day.”
