"Please, godmother, you don't need to filter what you're going to say. Just say it"She looks at Drake with big brown eyes. I always expect the worst, that's a fact, but I never stop fearing how bad the fall will be."It's about Jean. Jean Collins, your father"And there's the bad surprise I always wait for. I remain still, afraid that my movements might make the situation worse. Because, deep down, I still remember the days when I needed to hide and be quiet so he wouldn't find me. However, when that happened, he found my mother."He died?" I ask. I know I shouldn't, and I know I'm the worst person in the world for wanting her to confirm it."No, Blair. Jean is not dead. He is fine, very fine, better than any of us would assume.""How well?" my voice starts to crack."He produces films, Blair. Jean became a film director, and now he's making fame and money" Drake responds, realizing that Mirtes wouldn't be able to do so.So if I understand correctly, he left town when my mother was h
The man calmly analyzed the crack in the door. Within the space, he found exactly what he was looking for. Banks wishes he had more than one reason to lose his breath, but the redhead in his field of vision was the only one.Blair was leaning over, looking for documents on the top shelf of the closet. His back was in perfect decline, literally the descent into hell. The heels adorning her feet were a detail that highlighted her legs and sensualized her position. Her hair was loose, falling to the sides of her face and preventing her from seeing the man in the doorway. It also prevented Ethan from seeing her face.Whether through physical or mental attraction, the man was losing track of what was logical. Leaving part of his work just to stay in the same city as a woman was certainly something he didn't consider right. However, after the kiss that stole half of his vitality, Ethan realized that nothing would be more right than having her.The meeting of eyes happened when Blair felt Ba
Ethan brought his face closer until he touched Blair's nose with his own, and at that moment, she could smell his minty breath. His mouth replicated the taste the man had, the feel of his tongue and the movement of his lips. She remembered the kiss perfectly.However, contrary to what Blair wanted, he slid his lips down, towards the female throat. She stood on tiptoe, tilting her body to receive whatever contact Ethan wanted to offer. Even wearing very high heels, the height difference was considerable."I'm going to ask you the same question when you see me with another man," the woman murmured, panting beneath the warm lips."Is there another man?" Banks wanted to hear the truth come from Blair's lips.And when she thought of something to say, Ethan's lips pressed against her skin. He kissed her throat, delighting in the feel of her soft, scented skin. In addition to the sensation his mouth provided, the roughness of his growing beard was an aphrodisiac. A shiver took over his entir
The inspector opened the bag he had taken with him, and took out a small piece of equipment from inside it. Blair observed that movement, finding the news strange. Normally, those quick meetings in the parking lot were just for her to deliver the reports."What do you mean?" she questioned."Today's dinner could be turned in our favor. And I want operations to be more precise. So if you hear something incriminating, I need to know and have proof."Spencer showed the woman a small recorder. It was basically the size of a pen, and Blair didn't know how to hide the object. She furrowed her eyebrows, and then took the device from Spencer's hands."A recorder?""Yes. If they talk about anything revealing, I'll know."That night, Blair would go out with Ethan. It would just be dinner, at first, but perhaps she would have access to incriminating information. At the moment she made the invitation, the redhead had no bad intentions. However, after reporting to Spencer, she learned that her eve
It wasn't the first time Ethan Banks had heard that question. He leaned back in his chair, and swallowed before answering. His eyes were eager, and his lips were slightly pulled into a half smile, that was enough for Blair to understand that he wasn't serious."Couldn't you research more about me? I've already talked about this in many interviews""I'm not a reporter. I'm not interested in the automatic response," she shot back."Well, Miss Curiosity, I needed to take on greater responsibilities."Blair ate pieces of bread in succession so she didn't have to say anything. She had nothing to say. The responsibility of having to make that conversation work was weighing on his shoulders. The notion that there was a recorder in her bag was overwhelming."Like driving a Lamborghini and wearing expensive suits?" Before she even realized, or filtered, the provocative words were out of the redhead's lips."Yes. You don't know how this life tires me" Ethan ironized."We can exchange" she propo
The waiter pulled out the chair for Blair to leave, and the couple headed out of the restaurant. Ethan rested a hand on the base of the woman's spine, unpretentiously, oblivious to the fact that that contact destroyed the barriers she had built.People around the restaurant watched the pair walk, as handsome and charming as they were. Blair in a nice light dress, Ethan in a dark suit. Everyone could say they were the perfect opposite of each other.Banks' Lamborghini was outside the restaurant, gleaming against the city lights like a piece of jewelry. The valet got out of the vehicle and handed the keys to the real owner."Thanks for dinner," Blair thanked, still feeling Ethan's warm body next to hers, even as he pulled away to open her door."The invitation was yours""You can pretend you like it" she replied as she got into the car."Pretending makes me tired" were Ethan's last words before closing the door. And the redhead could have sworn she saw a smile cross his face.As the man
The next morning, Blair was at the Las Vegas police department. She had given Steve the tape recorder, and was soon dismissed. He simply said he would look into the information. And, to be honest with herself, Blair found the inspector's behavior strange. He seemed more withdrawn than usual.- "What happens now?" Blair asked.- "Steve will listen to the entire recording over and over again," Colton replied nonchalantly.They walked side by side to the end of the hallway, where the training room was located. The soundproofed room was empty that morning when Colton opened the door, and then waited until the redhead entered.Deep down, the militarized man didn't like what he was doing. Teaching Blair to be an agent, when she hadn't even mentioned that she enjoyed the profession, seemed wrong.- "Today is your lucky day. Let's practice some shooting" he commented.Target shooting was an activity that involved testing proficiency and accuracy, prediction and speed. It did not matter whethe
Colton walked over to the marking on the ground, stood next to Blair, pointed the gun at the target, and fired. He fired six rounds in a row, and each time he fired, he hit the red part of the target. Ever since he had served overseas in the Marines years before, the man was known to be a crack shot.- "Don't worry. I'm not trying to steal your job," Blair quipped.- "Talk less and shoot more. We're not leaving here until you're able to keep quiet."*The reason casinos were legal in Las Vegas was simple; no one would be unhappy if they could commit sins. What people judged and repudiated elsewhere was fun in Vegas, what they called Monday.At the Wynn Las Vegas Casino, one of the most luxurious venues in Sin City, a cocktail party was beginning. A relatively small party, for just over a hundred wealthy people. This would not be an ordinary night, with million-dollar games being played at the tables, or golden call girls dancing around the room. The night promised much more.The casin
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
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
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
"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
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
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
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
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
“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