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THE PILOT'S EX WIFE 17
Home to the most acclaimed films in the world of cinema, the city of angels was more an environment for pretense and acting than for pleasure. The places, however luxurious and elegant, did not exude money like Vegas. And nor should they. For Los Angeles, the legacy of Hollywood was enough.The events were also a suitable moment to reaffirm ties of influence and show the world that, beyond money, the guests had connections. It was a confidential agreement among American stars: to be on top and help those who were on top to stay on top.In the back of the limousine, Jean, Drake and Blair waited outside the Roosevelt. One of the most famous hotels among red carpet stars. Initially, it was just going to be a dinner for the cast that made up the film, but it ended up becoming the reason for a small crowd of photographers.- "You're quite famous" Drake smiled at Jean.- "It seems so" the older man looked outside, seeing all those people idolizing his name.In contrast to her happiness, Bla
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- "Her name has become a household name among the stars. Some bet that she will return to anonymity, but surely, after her appearance in the scarlet dress, the world will not forget her overnight." Blair took a deep breath. It wasn't the end of the world, she knew that, but it meant that her relationship with her father had been exposed. Before that, she had been avoiding phone calls and denying Jean's advances. She didn't want to be his daughter. She thought that accepting a rapprochement would be indifferent. At that moment, her life had changed. The redhead could not hide again, seeking refuge in the depths of ignorance. "Excuse me," she asked before standing up. Then, the redhead walked gracefully away from the table, avoiding any survey that could be made. It didn't take long for her to find the bathroom, and made that place her temporary hiding place. Just like the ballroom, the environment was exquisite. A few events, expensive clothes, a millionaire's life for a few months. Th
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"I want you" the man's words were like the roar of an engine. His fingers slid to the woman's voluminous lips, and the desire he felt for them felt like an electrical discharge.He was used to being attracted to the beauties he knew, and he always got what he wanted from them. With Blair, however, he wanted so many things that he could barely think of what to do first. And, he knew, she was committed from the first moment. His control never failed, and that redhead was a territory marked for several days.Ever since he saw her open the bedroom door, interrupting his plans with the Norwegian model, then fleeing to the elevator... Ethan simply knew that Blair needed to be his. There were very few seconds between the moment he saw the glimpse of the red dress at the door and the moment he decided to check if that silhouette was as designed as he had thought."Tell me what you want" he murmured. The low tone of voice didn't let her fool her; it was an order.The man was used to dealing wi
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"It won't happen again" she looked into Drake's eyes to assure him of that.The woman prepared to say something more, seeing doubt creep across Drake's face, but was interrupted by a hoarse voice behind her."Mr. Collins"Jean immediately looked at the man behind her daughter. That tone, calm as the sea, hid a devastating storm. Simple words sounded like a command in Ethan's tone."Mr. Banks, it's an honor to be here" Collins stood up and extended his hand to Banks, who accepted it with a firm shake."It's an honor to have you here"At that moment, a supposed truth dawned on Blair. Ethan was the evening's host, and had approached her by calling her the "lady in red." That was how she looked the first time she saw him, like a unique possessor of the scarlet hue. It was likely that all of this had been set up so that he would see her again. It would be understandable for someone of Banks' stature to move heaven and earth to get what he wanted.Despite feeling a lump in her throat at the
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"That wasn't kind" she pointed out."You would love to be a victim now" his thoughts turned to the moment when the long fingers were around the woman's throat, pressing hard enough to make her gasp.He wasn't sure what was making Blair hesitate. For him, it was too simple to take control and wait for the other party to surrender. However, Ethan had one certainty in life; he would not accept a refusal.Seeing the redhead's scared and affected expression, the man decided that he would need a foolproof approach. She wouldn't give in in public, not easily. They would need a private environment, where the connection shouts loudly and drowns out other issues."This isn't my rhythm" finally, was what Blair managed to say.Ethan could sense a certain danger in that woman. Not the overwhelming, immediate kind of danger, but rather the slow, fatal kind. It would be like a snake; he would deceive with a hug, and end up strangling the bones."That's the rhythm I'm going to put you in, principessa
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"Blair Collins" she murmured in a soft voice when she answered, ready for whatever it was.The woman, despite her young age, had developed an enviable ability to overcome obstacles. I was always keeping expectations low."Hello, Miss Collins. I'm Spencer Davis, but you should know. I called to pass on some information. Are you available?""Yes" Blair replied.It had been a few days since Spencer hadn't been in touch. He said she would not need to attend the department, just the events. In parts, the redhead felt like a spy, as if she were infiltrated among those wealthy people, collecting and storing information."By now, you must have met a member of the Banks family again.""Yes" she replied, hiding the way she found the family member."Well, I like taking notes, even if they seem minimal. I ask you to do this, and report everything that your eyes see""Right""I have news, Blair. We can't take any risks in this part of the investigation, so I got you a job""A problem..." she repea
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"Good morning, Blair. We have more work here than we can handle" Daliah, with all her exemplary politeness, murmured. Despite having reasons to lose her temper and let her bad mood lead, the woman never expressed this type of behavior. He was too professional for that."What happened?" Blair found herself surprised by the model's upset at what should have been the best moment of her life."Carolina has gained a few pounds since the last fitting. Now the dress needs adjustments" Daliah explained."What's wrong with making adjustments?""Are you kidding me? If the designer refuses to adjust the piece, I'm out"Blair looked at the skinny body of the brunette in front of her. It looked like the embodiment of a doll. Those words seemed sick to her, but she refused to delve deeper into the subject. That wasn't his job."Well, I don't understand, but don't get neurotic""You're right. You don't understand" Carolina raised her eyebrows and, seeing that Blair's expression didn't change, she tu
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Blair sighed, letting the absolute truth sink in. It was difficult to think of his life as something public, where everyone felt entitled to know in depth. Her past was too dark for others to know, and the way they were approaching scared her.However, she shook off the claustrophobic feeling and walked with the coffee to her boss's office. At the door, low voices could be heard having a casual conversation. She knocked on the door and entered only after receiving authorization.And amidst the exaggerated luxury, there was Michele Brian's office. His space was like the representation of what is best in the professional environment; the solid wood table, the large windows overlooking the skyscrapers, the light marble floor, the padded armchairs, the discreet chandelier, the walls painted in watercolor colors.The woman opened the door and, for a second, thought she had entered paradise. His eyes focused on the man in black so quickly that they seemed programmed to do so.When she came
Last Updated : 2024-08-14
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There’s a pause, and in the silence I feel the weight of everything he’s not saying. The desperation of searching for someone the whole world said was lost. The crushing hope, followed by the crumbling, each time he thought he’d found me only to discover it was someone else. The pain of living between belief and resignation, over and over again.His fingers, still hovering in the air, finally move. They touch my face, light and hesitant, as if he fears I might disappear at any moment. The touch is warm, but his fingers tremble, and it breaks something inside me.He's trying to be strong, but he can't hide the vulnerability that pulsates beneath the surface."It's you now," he says, and the certainty in his voice is almost palpable. As if, after so long, he can finally breathe.He smiles, but the smile isn’t what I remember. It’s not confident or charming. It’s small, fragile, and so full of sadness that it stings my eyes.There's something devastating about seeing him like this. That
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My head moves slowly, against my will, as if an invisible thread were pulling me towards him. I don't want to look. I don't want to see. But fear and curiosity push me towards the inevitable realization that he is there, real, so close that even the air seems charged with his presence.My gaze first drops to the floor, to his shoes. A pair of casual sneakers, simple but they bring back memories that refuse to stay buried. Then my eyes move up to his legs. Black jeans, fitted, worn at the knees as if they’ve survived more than just time.My heart races, but I keep going. I glance down at his torso, noticing the dark sweater he’s wearing, elegant but in a casual way that only Ethan can pull off. He never had to try so hard to look… dangerous and attractive at the same time. He just was.It takes me longer than it should to look up at his face. As if my subconscious knew that this would be the point of no return. When I finally allow myself to look, I feel my heart almost stop.His beard
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BLAIR'S POVI walk quickly through the parking lot of the building, rummaging through my bag for my car keys. The dim light from the overhead lights creates shadows that dance on the floor, but my attention is completely focused on finding the keychain.If the traffic is okay today (a miracle, considering the time of day) I can still make it to school in time to pick up Miguel and take him home. He hates it when I'm late, and he doesn't spare me the frustrated look, but maybe I can make up for it with a pizza for dinner. That usually works.Finally, my fingers touch the cold metal of the key, and a relieved sigh escapes my lips. I continue walking, my thoughts already moving on to what Miguel might choose as a topping for the pizza this time… pepperoni, perhaps?But as I turn the corner where my car is parked, something makes the world around me slow down.There’s my car, exactly where it should be. But next to it, taking up my parking space, is a black SUV that immediately catches my
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"You were out of your mind that night." He looks at me now, his gaze a mixture of anger and pity. "And that's what happened. It was your car that hit her, Banks."The revelation hits me like a punch to the chest. “What?” I repeat, louder this time, my disbelief boiling over. “My car? Carter, my car?!” My voice rises, wavering between anger and desperation.“She would never feel safe with you again,” he says, his words cutting like knives. “After this, how could she?”My breathing quickens, and for a moment I feel like the world around me is falling apart. The air seems to escape my lungs, my mind in absolute chaos. Carter takes a step back, but I follow him, staring at him as if he’s the only thing still solid in my reality."What the fuck are you saying, Carter? My car…?" My voice breaks, begging for an answer I don't want to hear.I fall to my knees on the sidewalk, as if my legs can no longer support the weight of this revelation. My fingers tangle in my hair, pulling hard, as if t
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When I finally stop, my body is panting, my hands shaking from the impact. I look at Carter, who is on the ground, his face swollen and blood dripping from his lips.He doesn't move.He doesn't say anything.He just stands there, staring at me with a look of sadness, of regret.“I… I knew it,” he says, his voice weak.I don’t answer, I have no words. The anger that consumed me before fades, and in its place comes a deep emptiness, as if the world has lost all meaning. I stand, looking at Carter on the floor. Each breath feels harder, heavier.What do I do now?I feel my body weaken. My legs shake, and the pain in my hand from punching so much spreads through my body. I try to breathe, but the pressure in my chest won't go away. And the only thought that runs through my mind is the emptiness of knowing that Blair is still alive, and I don't know what to do with that.I don't know what to do with the rest of my life.Carter struggles to his feet, running a hand over his jaw with a paine
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I saw Blair. Or at least, I think I did. My mind no longer knows how to distinguish what is real from what is not. And while I stand there, lost in my own memories and hallucinations, Carter remains silent, his gaze fixed on me, unable to find words that could bring back what is already lost.He knows what's going on, but he doesn't know how to deal with it.He lowers his head, as if the very idea of saying the words is an unbearable weight. His voice is low, barely audible, but still, it seems to cut through the air between us, making everything around us disappear. "She's alive," he says, so quietly that for a moment I wonder if it's me, in my shattered sanity, who's imagining it all."What?" My voice is hoarse, a reflection of the disbelief that begins to take hold of me.He doesn't look at me, his eyes fixed on the floor, as if the words that just left his mouth were a condemnation. "You're not crazy, brother," he says with the same seriousness, but with a tone of regret. "Blair i
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The valet hesitates, looking at the now-gone car, and shakes his head, clearly confused. "I... I'm not sure. No one important, sir."Nobody important?“No,” I breathe deeply, trying to control the rising panic. “No, I know what I saw. She was important.” The emptiness of the street around me seems to grow, to swallow me. I no longer know if I’m speaking to him or to myself."Ethan!" Carter is behind me now, his voice full of concern and something else. He reaches out to me, taking my arm. "What are you doing? What's going on?"I look at him, my face tense, anger and fear mixed together. "She was here. She was here," I hiss, unsure if he'll understand the depth of what I'm saying."Who?" Carter asks, his voice low, full of confusion and concern.He cups my face in his hands, as if trying to check if I'm feverish, if my mind is somewhere far away. His fingers press against my skin, but I barely feel them."Blair," I whisper, almost as if my voice is a distant memory, an attempt to captu
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She finishes the glass in a single gulp, her gaze fixed on the horizon, as if she were losing herself in the lights of the city below. I follow her, drinking in her image, still immersed in my own thoughts."Good wines are not wasted," she murmurs with a seductive smile, her red lips almost provocative. The flirtation is clear, and for a moment, I find myself contemplating whether this is what I really want. But soon the answer comes silently: I am no longer the man who fell for this kind of game.When was the last time I was with a woman? The question resurfaces in my mind, and I know the answer. I know Blair was the last. There has never been another after her, despite the attempts, the distractions. No woman has been able to replace the space she left, not even for a moment. It grips me, swallows me, in a way I don't know how to escape."It's not wasted," I confirm, more to myself than to her. The sound of my own voice seems distant.The blonde steps forward, her plunging neckline
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“I’m developing a new sparkling wine brand,” says Cortez, a big-time alcoholic entrepreneur, in a tone of voice so enthusiastic that I almost feel guilty for not showing the slightest interest. “You know, I’m not new to the business. I thought we could do a campaign together. Something big.”I feign interest, crossing my arms and smiling, even though my mind has already begun to wander away from the conversation. “What were you thinking about?” I ask, my tone calculated with curiosity, so as not to seem disinterested.“Something you could incorporate into racing, you know?” Cortez continues, his voice growing even more animated. “Like, throwing champagne in the air when you win a race. That classic gesture, but with our own brand.” He smiles, pleased with the idea, as if he’s offering me a golden opportunity.I watch him intently for a few seconds, but soon I start to let his words fade into the background of my mind. He keeps babbling, but his words are like distant noises now. I'm n
