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SOLD TO THE CEO 67
ANGELIC...My feet hurt every time they hit the ground, but I refuse to stop running until the two fucking miles. That has to be my best quality: perseverance. I run like my life depends on it, but I pretend I don't feel my lower muscles burning. I hum along to the music playing in my headphones, paying attention to something other than fatigue.Holy curiosity. Why did I go to the Bronx? Why did I need to see LeBlanc being mean to be sure he was mean? Now my head is spinning around the same topic.I try to focus on the lyrics that are screaming in my ears, but honestly, it's hard not to think about the feeling stirring inside me. It's new, it's strong, it's hot. And all this is even more intense around him.However, I am a religious girl. I believe in God's plans, and I know he would never plan LeBlanc for me. I believe you deserve better. He's an attractive man, and all the neighbors can confirm that, but that doesn't mean I want to have him. It's just curiosity.Inevitably, I come h
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ANGELIC...Of them. Three. Four. Five.Five. Four. Three. Of them. A.I start counting the seconds, which turn into minutes and hours. I hadn't noticed this morning, but I didn't turn off the faucet properly, so drops of water fall into the sink. I count the seconds as the drops descend.I counted over twenty thousand drops.I'm on the bathroom floor. The light went out about ten thousand drops ago. The only illumination comes from moonlight. My head is leaning against the tub as I stare at the gun, which I haven't even had the heart to touch. This is what killed a man before my eyes.Of them. Three. Four. Five.Five. Four. Three. Of them. A.Over time, I think I've stopped having a big idea of what's real and what my head has created. I slept and dreamed of the bloodied body coming down the stairs. I was thirsty and drank water from the sink. I was also hungry, but I couldn't do much about it.And The White. I hallucinated with him. Several times I felt like he was coming over, takin
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ANGELIC...I exit the garage and walk the few steps to the car. Before entering, I look around me. Race cars screech on the tarmac and people around are shouting and throwing drinks in the air.Happiness. It doesn't matter if it lasts five seconds or five hours, if these people will be unhappy with their realities when the sun comes up. Now they are happy and that's all that matters. Unlike most of the people around me, these people know they will have a bit of happiness each time they gather here.I get into the car. LeBlanc's perfume takes the place of the smell of the street in my head.I look for the key card in the pocket of my shorts and I can't find it. I fiddle with the car; the seats, the dashboard, the console. I bend down to search the floor. I grope the floor of the car for the key, however, I end up bumping into another object. Glossy and bigger than the key card.I withdraw my hand quickly. What is that?I turn on the interior light to get a better view, and eventually f
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THE WHITE...Another missed call. No, I don't intend to answer.The last three days have been like limbo, displaced from my reality. Normally, I don't allow myself to hesitate. My decisions must be instantaneous. However, I spent three days trying to make up my mind, and opted for the simpler solution. Therefore, the more fool.For the first time since I started my jobs, I quit one. I discovered that it was good to solve people's lives. Like Daniel, for example. He was an obstacle for his son, and I helped him. Someone is always hurt, indeed, but my job is not to judge who is right. Come on, it's my job.But I was wrong. I usually don't admit my mistakes, as they are rare, however, now I have to. I was wrong to agree to work for Margot Donneli. I was so sure it was going to be an easy job that I didn't think about the job until I had a decent alibi. I wanted to be the last suspect, but the girl hates me. I became the first.Rule number one: never contact the service. Don't create memo
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ANGELIC...One week.Two weeks.Three weeks.Three weeks since I last saw LeBlanc. Zero messages. Zero links. Zero contact. And it's not like I expected him to call me the next day, I'm not stupid. However, I didn't expect it to disappear either.I don't miss him, not even up close. But sometimes I wonder what made it disappear right after what happened at the warehouse. I can't understand, and he's not here to explain it to me.- Angelica? Angelic? - Margot is calling.I watch her from across the breakfast table. One of his eyebrows is arched, so I know I missed a lot of speeches.- Yes - I answer.- The first article on the elections is out. Lily.The tablet is open to a news page on the table. There's no way I can read it. I haven't been interested in Elliot's politics for a few weeks now. It's funny because three months ago, all I cared about was the image of the family.- Clear.I take a sip of my coffee, to make it seem like my mind is focused on the moment. The coffee is cold,
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Disappointing. That's all I have to say about the coffee Angelic makes a point of drinking every day. Almond milk and mint? I didn't expect it to be good, but I couldn't imagine how bad it would be.I leave the two cups of coffee on the side table next to the bed. Tastes are indisputable, after all. I look at the bathroom door and wait for Angelic to finish his shower. It wasn't exactly easy to get into his room, but since the security in this house was supposed to be presidential level, it wasn't difficult.There's music in the bathroom, and it makes me sure that Angelic is one of those girls who dances while they shower. From time to time, she sings an excerpt from the song, and I must say that singing is not one of her gifts.I look around me. I kept a perfect memory of every detail, and that's the evil of a photographic mind. Do you remember everything. Good things. The bad things. All.A few minutes later, the music stops and the bathroom door opens. Angelique comes out wrapped i
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Her blue eyes reflect the light emanating from the open windows. Her hair is damp, stuck to the sides of her face. The dress is open to the valley between her breasts. She looks so determined, but so vulnerable at the same time. Angelic is not a tall woman, however, her posture makes her look taller. Maybe for the first time I see it in real size.- What are you doing here? - asks calmly.- A work.- In my room?I raise an eyebrow. Touched, my dear.Angelique goes to her dressing table. She removes the towel that wraps her hair and begins to comb it. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, refusing to look at me as she runs the brush through her hair, rather aggressively I would say.Is she mad that I... left?- You disappeared for over a month and left me with a billion questions.- I will answer all of them - I guarantee.During my absence, I thought of her. Not romantically or melancholy, but just thinking. A personality so similar to mine is not found in just any corner. And n
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- Nope. The money continues to flow into his bank account every month.- So you abandoned me - she smiled, ironically - I mean, a third attack could have happened, and my hero wasn't there.I smile. Even from an ocean away, I remembered your little games. Almost two months did not change his bad mood.Oh yes. That's why I wanted to go back.“Coffee is getting cold,” I say.- You want to know ? I give up trying to understand you or know you.I hear footsteps outside my room, and I know I should leave. I almost feel like a teenager running away from a girl's house before her dad finds out she's no longer a virgin. In fact, I wonder if Angelic allowed himself to go through something like this before me, and honestly, I hope not.- Go to the Bronx tonight - I ask.Angelique looks at me in disbelief through the reflection in the mirror. I left, then just reappeared, and she thinks I owe her some satisfaction for that. Even though she hates my instability, that's exactly what attracts her.
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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
