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SOLD TO THE CEO 45
THE WHITE...I park the Tesla in front of the house of God. At least, that's what they say. The place where the corrupt politician kneels and asks forgiveness for leaving half a million people below the poverty line.I close my jacket and slowly enter the church. I admire the building, three times bigger than the last time I saw it. The building is old, but not old. The colors, the Renaissance style, the shapes. Everything gives the impression that the church has never been renovated, but the truth is that less than a million dollars would hardly be enough to raise the pillars.I look up at the cloudy sky. The instability of the climate in the big cities is what makes me miss an isolated island in southern Europe.I enter the holy temple, looking around out of habit. It is empty because it is still on Monday afternoon.It's been two days since the White House dinner, and I'm theoretically late. This service should be finished now. However, with Detective Pierce hot on my trail, I'm go
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ANGELIC...Marcos holds the back door of the Rolls Royce open so I can enter. This is the first time in two days that I have appeared in public with a scarf over my face. I leave the church and walk with big strides towards the car. As soon as I get in, Peter, the driver, accelerates.Even if I go home, my thoughts remain in this confessional. I left the guilt there, but it brought another feeling with me. Curiosity. It wasn't Father Bee, or anyone else who lives in the diocese. I know them all.I lean my head against the glass and close my eyes. I have to do my penance so that everything goes well. I felt guilty because, considering everything that had happened that night, the only thing that stuck in my mind permanently was Bruce.I take the rosary out of my robe and hold it. Maybe if I use it often enough, I can get rid of the sin I've had for two days.We got back in no time. The church is really close. Peter parks under the marquee, Marcos opens my door and I walk out, heading fo
SOLD TO THE CEO 47
THE WHITE...Elliot Donneli is an ordinary politician, as corrupt and mean as any. But he forged a good character, so much so that he reached the presidency. Sometimes he gives a drop of water to the poor and wins their love. Because for someone who still has nothing, everything is a lot.Senator Mares is no different. Banknotes are anything that fills your mind. During the five minutes of conversation we had, I realized that he would sell his own children to me if I offered.– Taxation is absurd – comments Mares.When I checked Angelic's life, I found the name of Vicenzo Mares, her boyfriend, or something. He goes into politics, probably because his father has an inheritance. I had to look into the senator's life to understand the whole enigma. Married, father of three children, investor and, out of curiosity, a pedophile.- I need to make a call. Excuse me, I say. In front of their response, I turn away.I head for the garden of the Donneli mansion. I confess that I had spent many y
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ANGELIC...The noise in the garden wakes me up. The employees organize the outdoor space after yesterday's party. I put the pillow over my head and try to go back to sleep, but it's impossible. I'm giving up.Despite myself, I get out of bed and put on my bathrobe over my nightgown. My head hurts, partly because I haven't slept enough, but I can't deny that last night I was tossing and turning in my bed, unable to sleep, thinking about my conversation with Bruce .I knew the moment I entered the confessional that Father Bee was not on the other side of the screen. Padre's breathing is smooth and heavy, with short spaces between exhalations. And yet I confessed. I desperately wanted to go and confess to someone who wouldn't tell my father about my sins later.After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I go down to the first floor. The table is already set with breakfast, but Margot and Elliot still haven't come down. I zip up my bathrobe and sit down on the chair to the left of the h
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THE WHITE...When I leave the presidential residence, Peter, the driver, has already parked the Tesla under the marquee. He gets out of the car as I approach and hands me the key card. As soon as I take the card and get in the car, I feel my cell phone vibrate in my pants pocket. It's an unknown number, but since I only gave it to one person in America, I know who it is."Detective", I salute.- Mr. Campbell,” mutters Kevin Pierce.I hear the noise from the police station through the cell phone. Phones are constantly ringing, side conversations and computer keys are being pressed. I can be stressed just by idealizing the environment."New doubts have emerged in the investigation into the attack," he informs.I start the car and leave the Donneli estate.“Then you are on the right track."You know…I heard about you." The noise is muffled, so Pierce probably walked into a closed room.He's bluffing. It's impossible for Pierce to know anything about a name I created.- They're all lying.
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ANGELIC...The truth is that we are sinking. My dad would never say how much, but I know. Margot didn't buy too much this week, staff numbers were reduced and Elliot Donneli's campaign all but came to a halt. For a politician, it is the bottom. Margot even tried to have afternoon tea with her friends - politicians' wives - today, but to no avail. Only five were present.I walk over to the dining room table, where my dad and Margot are seated, and take a seat to his left. I grab the towel and place it on my lap."Good night," I said. The mood around the table is gloomy."Good night," Margot replies. She takes the towel and places it on her lap, quite abruptly. My father sighs.- What's new? I ask. Gradually, the hunger I felt when I left the room disappeared.“Tell him,” insists Margot.I look from one to the other, trying to pick up something. Ever since my father was diagnosed, the problems have kept cropping up. He remains one of the most important figures in the world, but with an
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THE WHITE...I grew up in the Bronx surrounded by all these people who were considered disgusting. Really dirty. One of them is Lenon, a gentleman closer to death than life. Unusually, I sympathize with him more than any younger person.- Ten blows and you beat me - said Lenon.I watch the board between us, calculating the moves I need to make to checkmate while trying to anticipate his moves.Yes I see that. But how fun would that be? I take my pawn in E2.- No - he growls.And he gives me the same look I've seen since I was a kid, when he was acting up around the neighborhood. But I can't resist. Unable to hold back my smile, I ignore it and go to E4. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, exasperated by the lack of control and strategy he's failed to teach me all those long afternoons.I like to be meticulous and certain when I do something, but sometimes that makes me predictable. And more dangerous than impulse is foresight.Loud music echoes outside the workshop. I can see ever
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- Look closely - He continues - You can still catch me. Ten shots.Ten?I grab my horse and move it to F3, hearing Lenon sigh as he leads his horse back to C6, as if on autopilot."Idiot," he growls, getting mad at me. I can hear it in his voice, and my pulse quickens as he continues the game, making the moves as if we've been going in circles for years, and he's done with my mistakes and impulsiveness.He just wants to play and have his inevitable win so he can get back to work now that my head is out of the game. My bishop at C4, your pawn at D6, my other knight at C3. And when he reaches his bishop, I stop breathing watching him go G4, pinning my knight to my queen.It really worked, and he still couldn't see what he had done. I move my knight to E5, taking his pawn and leaving my queen completely vulnerable to the bishop. He sees the opening, nods and captures it, removes it from the board and moves his bishop in place of my queen.My heart skips in my throat. He thinks he got me.
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SOLD TO THE CEO 107
- "What happens now?" Lora questioned.- "Steve will listen to the whole recording countless times" Colton replied, nonchalantly.Both walked side by side to the end of the hall, where the training room was located. The soundproofed room was empty that morning when Colton opened the door, then waited for the redhead to enter.Deep down, that militarized man didn't like what he was doing. Teaching Lora to be an agent, when she hadn't even mentioned that she enjoyed the profession, felt wrong.- "Today is your lucky day. Let's practice some shooting" he commented.Target shooting was an activity that involved testing proficiency and accuracy, foresight and speed. It didn't matter if the shot was short-range or long-range.- "Where do we start?" The redhead questioned.There was a demarcation on the floor of the room, which indicated the place where people should stand, so they could aim at the target and shoot. The distance between the mark and the target was ten meters. Lora positioned
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When she returned to her desk, Lora realized that the reason she left was no longer an issue. Her fame would be irrelevant if she was busy lusting after the one man she shouldn't. The redhead felt her knees weak; the fallen angel's touch was as vivid on her skin as her cells. Drake rose to pull out the chair for her, elegantly and gracefully. For strangers, thinking of them as a pair was automatic. - "I said you would be my key ring at events, but I think the key ring is me" he commented as he sat down with his friend, who held back a laugh. They both focused on stage as the musicians finished a classical melody, giving space to the master of ceremonies. - "Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you are having a pleasant evening. The starters will be served now, then we will have a greeting from the host" and, after an elegant gesture, the music reverberated through the environment, along with the murmur of voices in conversation private. - "You're a little flushed, but you don't seem to b
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Home to the most acclaimed films in the cinematographic world, the city of angels was more an environment of pretense and performance than of pleasure. The venues, as luxurious and elegant as they were, didn't exude money like Vegas. And neither should they. For Los Angeles, Hollywood's legacy was enough. The events were also an appropriate time to reaffirm ties of influence and show the world that, in addition to money, guests had contacts. It was a confidential agreement between the American stars; be at the top and help those who were at the top to stay. In the backseat of the limousine, Jean, Drake, and Lora waited outside the Roosevelt. One of the most famous hotels among the stars of the red carpet. At first, it would just be a dinner among the cast that made up the film, but it ended up becoming the reason for a small gathering of photographers. - "You're quite famous" Drake smiled at Jean. - "It seems so" the older man looked out, seeing all those people worshiping his name
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The city lights of Los Angeles were what lit up the world in dark times. The future was in the skyscrapers and in their grandeur. Every building on the outskirts of the city that never slept had a purpose; show your power. The Roosevelt Hotel was an interesting setting. With its white facade and large rounded supporting pillars, the building had a modern look. Its interior was no different, boasting an abundance of elegance. The chandeliers in the various rooms, the pure marble floors and the superior suites with indoor pools were signs of a fortune. In the master bedroom bathroom, in one of the city's most sought-after hotels, Evans Donovan was finishing lining up his bow tie in a millimeter way on his tuxedo. He surveyed his reflection, looking for flaws that anyone else wouldn't notice. But that man was obsessed with perfection in the details. His attire, as usual, was entirely dark. The only glow on her figure came from the silver rings on her fingers. When there was a knock on
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ANGELIC...The sun's rays hit my face, making me wake up. For the last few days, we've slept with the balcony doors open, listening to the sound of waves crashing against the ocean's horizon. This has been my paradise; sleep and wake up on this island.I open my eyes, looking around the room for Aaron. He's always the first thing I look for, the first thing on my mind from the first minute of the day. He's not here, but he's left an arrangement of lilies on the bedside table instead.I get up, pluck a flower from the arrangement, and spin it around, studying the white petals. I'm invaded by an old memory, which used to hurt a lot. I was twelve years old, and right after my mother's wake, I was in the garden at home. I was devastated after losing her, not only to her death but knowing that it meant I would be alone. And for a twelve-year-old girl, being alone in such a big house was really cruel.I thought I loved my family. I was so loyal to each one of them that I believed I loved th
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LEBLANC...Technology always amazes me. The way the world evolves, even if people don't follow the same path. And with that said, I'd like to point out one technology in particular: the Ferris wheel.Yes, the ferris wheel. Let's talk about her then.A large hoop of reinforced iron, with booths hanging from it, revolving endlessly to the right. Fast enough to entertain people, slow enough not to make you queasy. Simply fascinating, especially considering the colorful light show around.'I thought it was charming too,' Angelic says, interrupting my thoughts about George Ferris, the creator of the Ferris wheel.- What? I ask.- The ferris wheel. I was fascinated by her as a child.I look at Angelic, who is in front of me. I can visualize her child version, maybe with a bow in her hair. I can almost see her, tiny, staring at the ferris wheel, marveling at everything the curious eyes of a normal child can reach.However, on the other hand, I don't think she can have the same vision of me.
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LEBLANC...She's looking at me, her big blue eyes expectant, making me feel like the worst person in the world. Hope glimmers in every blink, and I, like the asshole that I am, am about to lie to Angelic.- And then? she asks as she holds me transfixed with her disgracefully beautiful eyes.Being a good liar doesn't mean I enjoy lying, and more, it doesn't mean I enjoy lying to her. However, I have no options left. I nod my head, because I believe false gestures are less cruel than false words."Just be honest," she pleads.No. No way.I'm leaning against the kitchen jamb, meanwhile, Angelic is behind the counter, in front of the stove. In my right hand is something she just cooked. Angelic said they were chocolate chip cookies. She said they were Christmas cookies. But honestly, I still haven't found the taste of chocolate, just burnt dough and sadness. This is really bad. In fact, bad is an understatement. It's a disgrace.- It is very bad? She frowns.Right now, Angelic is the most
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ANGELIC...When we got off the helicopter, the entrance doors to the house were already open. LeBlanc carries me in his arms, because I fell asleep at some point on the trip. This is explainable, as we took a short drive and then simply traveled to an island. He told me something about being a private person, but I couldn't imagine how much.I still feel half my brain asleep, so I don't even flinch at being held. I'm tired of tonight. In fact, in addition to being tired, I am resentful.I do my best to capture the details of the house. It appears to be an old building, with details reminiscent of castles. This suits LeBlanc as he appears to have king syndrome.'You live on an island,' I say. My words sound drunk with sleep."I don't like neighbors," he argues, making me smile.- Sounds arrogant.- Looks? – He looks at me – Make no mistake, I am.I snuggle into his chest as he heads upstairs. The place is so silent that it seems to be beyond the world. It looks like a bubble, where onl
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THE WHITE...I don't knock on the door, I just turn and push the handle. The Bellagio is famous for representing elite scum, and this room represents that taxation well. There are black leather couches on either side, a bar to the right, and a bottle of tequila on every square foot.I find Benjamin sitting on one of the sofas. First his eyes fall on me casually, then they stare at me. He is part of this little group that would dance on my grave.- Where are the good manners? – he asks, puffing out the smoke from his cigarette – I think old LeBlanc will remember that I don't change my face to kill a bastard.Nothing like old friends.- We can skip the threat part. I know them all.I close the door behind me and step forward. I sit down on the sofa across from him. The contrast between us is interesting. His excessive alcohol consumption, the clothes that make him look like he's just been in prison, the numerous tattoos and the cigarette. I'm very surprised Benjamin didn't already die i
