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SOLD TO THE CEO 55
ANGELIC...When I wake up in the morning, my head is exploding. Last night slowly seeps into my memory, and I wait for regret to come, but it doesn't. Until I opened my eyes, it was like everything was just a dream. A good dream.Skyla didn't give me much information about why she was dating the Bronx. Not that it's wrong, but it's not the kind of place an oil heiress visits. However, I didn't hate it. Maybe he even liked modified cars, people who don't care what other people think, and the smell of the streets. Maybe.Reluctantly, I open my eyes. All the blinds are drawn, so the room is delightfully dark. I get up and don't even bother to put on the bathrobe over the nightgown. I tend to be very formal and obedient, but the past few days have shown me that my behavior won't change our future. The failure is almost definitive for the Donneli family.I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth and comb my hair. My face is healthy red, and I can only say it's been since last night. Adrenaline.
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I sit down and place my briefcase on my lap. I put the phone down and help myself to scrambled eggs and orange juice. I feel Margot's gaze on me, and I almost think she knows what I did last night. But no, she doesn't know. Margot doesn't bother to think about what I'm doing. And now that we're on the verge of bankruptcy, I doubt she'll be a Donneli for long.- You don't want to know where your father is? - she prompts.- Where's my dad?- In the ballroom. An investor showed interest in sponsoring her candidacy - she says, with a tone of voice that does not indicate happiness.- I thought no one wanted to sponsor him.- They didn't - said Margot - But now...- Is that the senator? - I ask before taking a sip of juice.- The senator? - she laughs - The only thing he wants is to put the name Mares on you. Other than that, it won't help Elliot.- So who? - as soon as the words come out of my mouth, the double doors of the bedroom entrance open. Margot and I turned to watch Elliot Donneli
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Elliot wasn't the best dad in the world, and he didn't try to be. During his lifetime, my mother forced him to fulfill his role as a father. I don't know if he was good or if my mind forced me to believe he was, because it's more comforting that way. The fact is that it all ended with his death.I know Elliot suffered a lot and couldn't give much for me at that time. But then Margot came along and she helped him grieve in a way that I had never done. I think we got used to the distance. He stopped being a father and I accepted him, because it was too late for us to change. However, that never meant that I stopped loving her and wishing her well. I want him to take care of his health.- Good."I think we're done here," says Bruce. My dad greets like a puppy, like he's not just the most important person in the world. In fact, that's how most people behave around Bruce, as if they were much smaller than him."I'll walk you to the door," Elliot whispers.Bruce stares at me again and I und
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The lawn surrounding the church is wet from yesterday's rain, which makes it even more beautiful. The walls of the temple are white, but the supporting pillars are golden.I slowly enter the sacred temple, almost as if I don't want to be here. I know it's supposed to be God's house, but knowing everyone who frequents this environment, including the priest, I don't feel like I'm in a holy environment. So much pride and lies behind these bricks disgust me.It is a large and lavish temple, made just for the elite. It is a place where people with little money would not feel well. Even the blessed chalices are pure gold. The good part is that I can truly meet God no matter how corrupt others are.But at this point, I too am corrupt. Just remembering this man's eyes on me, fixed on my coordinates as if he had an obligation not to forget, warms me.Yes, I must confess, this time for real.The church is practically empty, so I sit down on the last pews. Father Bee is kneeling before the altar
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- Hello, my children - said the priest, making me open my eyes and realizing that he is already standing behind the pulpit.I look aside, to confirm the suspicion that Mr. Campbell is there. He stares straight ahead, but his green eyes never seem to focus on one spot. I also look at the priest, pretending that the man next to me doesn't exist.Now the visit of all the young people and nuns is explained. They brush past him, smile as if they're only being polite, then make their way to the first pews, just for the chance to sway their hips in their robes in his line of sight.But Bruce doesn't seem to be interested in them. Her face is turned towards the image of the Virgin Mary on the altar, and I could tell her spirit is praying.- Let's start with the choir - Father Abeille calls, then the children go up to the altar and get organized to start singing, all in white cassocks with gold ornaments.- Family atmosphere, right? - I ask, because being next to him in silence is torture.- I
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Bruce waits for me to contact him, which I do. I don't want to play games in the temple of God. We hold hands, and I feel a weight descend from my throat into my stomach.His long fingers grip my palm firmly, but also with an impressive gentleness. The heavens will hate me, but I imagine it touches other parts of me. I imagine his strong touch and his eyes fixed on mine, sensing my every reaction, knowing exactly how I feel. I shake my head to dismiss the thought, which I don't even know where it came from.- You are shaking - he points out.The whole church begins to pray. The buzz surrounds us, but Bruce remains with his eyes open, staring at the image on the altar.- Aren't you praying? - I ask.- Not out loud.- Are you a religious man?- Only when I'm not sinning - his answer makes me smile, because he seems like the kind of man who lives by sin. In fact, it seems that sins only existed after him.I don't have time to say a decent prayer, because soon the priest starts mass. We s
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THE WHITE...There's so much shit in the world to entertain troubled old men. Chess, for example, or the old card game. But human beings always make the worst choices, even having dozens of options. This is the case of Elliot Donneli, who has just lit his third cigarette. He doesn't smoke in front of his family, so he uses those moments to end the rest of his life. It's not a lot.We play pool, something I did a lot when I was in Dead Church, a prison in Sweden. This game requires both intellectual and practical skills. There's no point in being a clumsy genius, much less a stupid athlete. Elliot isn't bad, but he's more interested in pleasing me and getting his candidacy funded than playing.- The political committee will raise a toast to celebrate my birthday. It will be an important date.- I guess - I hit one of the even balls, which is mine, and I pocket the number 6. I make one more shot, but I purposely miss. Elliot hasn't played in six games.- We can make the first publicity.
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16 years ago...I won't breakThe way you did it, you fell so hardI learned the hard wayTo never let it go this farI love chocolate cake. Today mom decided she would bake me a cake, and she makes the best cakes in the world. We're in the kitchen at home, and I can already smell the cake when Mom takes the mold out of the oven. She puts it on the table, and now let's decorate. That's the best part.I scoop up the chocolate sauce and pour it over our cake. He is handsome. I can't wait to eat. Mom helps me spread the syrup with a spatula, then I think the job is done.- Are we finished? - she asks.- Yes mom.- It's nice. Congratulations my love.- Thanks.I look at my mother. She is very beautiful today. Her blue dress is like mine, down to the flowers at the hem. We always wear the same clothes, maybe that's why people say we look alike. I love looking like him.- Shall we put strawberries?- Yeah! I'll get it - I say.- He is fine. Thanks.Strawberries are very tasty. Sometimes som
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- "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
