- "I'm sorry, but I don't think I heard you right." She crossed her arms.- "Are you apologizing for being jealous?" Ethan, being as much of a jerk as possible, asked.- "How inflated does your ego have to be to assume that I'm jealous?"Even though he knew Blair was attracted to him, Ethan also knew she was too confident a woman to submit. The truth was, the only thing that would make the redhead surrender was her own will.- "Very much" finally, was what he replied.Blair felt her face burn with anger and remorse. Those were definitely not the words she wanted to hear. Maybe something gentle, or maybe a sharp tease. She was ready for a lot of things, but not for Banks's sarcastic side.- "Okay. I said what I wanted, now if you'll excuse me, I need to go. Have a good night." Blair didn't wait for an answer, nor did she give the man time to react.She simply started walking out of the apartment, irritated by his responses. Her thoughts scolded her for giving in to temptation. It would
Blair stroked him back. There was something inside her that made her want to keep going just to satisfy her desires. Her hands gripped Ethan's shoulders, slid down his biceps, and then back up to his chest. She wanted all of him.The man positioned himself perfectly between Blair's legs, at an exciting angle for both of them. He made subtle movements with his hips to sharpen the electricity floating between their bodies. Tongues danced, hands spread, and senses were mixed.Ethan brought his hand to Blair's intimate part and fingered her until he found her point of greatest pleasure, even under the fabric. He made light movements, always calm and slow, unlike the desperate kiss. His fingers circled between her legs, going up and down that moist region, preparing her with reverence.The man was losing his sanity. He wanted to relieve everything he felt for that body, but he had a rule of worshiping every part of a woman's anatomy, making sure he deserved the moment and giving her the be
The first movement into Blair's body was intense, as she squeezed him like a closed fist. The woman sighed as she felt him completely, with some difficulty in supporting the entire length in her depth.It was impossible to tell where one's anatomy began and the other's ended. Under the dim light, the nuances of their bodies in constant friction and desirous movements were clear. The clear glass separating the couple from the rest of Las Vegas reflected what was happening in that apartment. The sound that their skins together reproduced was music that the walls would not forget.Ethan gripped the sheets with a force that Blair's body couldn't handle. She wrapped her legs around him, even though she felt them weakening. Their eyes were always connected, with the pleasure of fulfilling promises made before.For the first time, Blair saw him differently. He wasn't the fallen angel, he wasn't the knight of the night. He was a man stripped of armor, open to whatever she had to offer. Vulner
When the man returned to the room, he was wearing a three-piece black suit and shiny shoes. In his right hand was a green tie, very similar to the color of Blair's dress. He looked at the redhead on his bed, her blue eyes expectant, and decided he should say something before he left for his appointments. However, the woman was quicker.- "What happens now?" she asked. Behind the question, there were many other questions to be asked, but she didn't have enough courage to say them all out loud.- "I need to go back to New York, but we can resolve your concerns when I return," Ethan replied, as simply as he could. He spoke as if he were sitting at a table in his office, in front of dozens of other businessmen.Blair's blue eyes were like the Maldives sea. They were clear, they were beautiful, they were pure. And through them, you could see the fear creeping in. The fear of disappointment, the fear of making a mistake, the fear of regret.- "Of course" was what she preferred to say.Ethan
Blair set the cards down on the table again. She glanced at her friend, and realized he was taking in her appearance. Her dress from the night before was clean and tidy, her hair damp and her feet bare. Drake sat on the couch, still studying the woman.- "Who did you sleep with?" he asked, without preamble.- "I don't..." the redhead was interrupted without warning.- "I want a name, Blair. Tell me who you were with, and I'll tell you if we need to schedule your therapy."- "You're saying that because you know the answer." Blair crossed her arms, seeing some humor in her friend's attitude.- "If the answer is Ethan Banks, then your therapy starts tomorrow"- "Why would we be bad together?" Blair sat down on the couch, next to Drake.Deep down, she knew the answer. She knew that two freight trains, on the same track, traveling in opposite directions, would collide at some point. She knew they would be like fire; they would burn and smolder, but they would also come to an end very quick
Ethan walked to the bedroom's panoramic window again, thinking about how many mistakes he was making. First, by leaving his work in the background. Banks was a name that commanded respect, that made people feel admiration. Carrying that surname was a task that required dedication. Ethan always gave his all to the companies he ran, always seeking and achieving to be the best of all. However, when certain red hairs crossed his path, it didn't take long for him to cancel commitments.- "How is Australia?"- "I don't know. We've been in Norway for two weeks."George, Ethan's father, was a man who loved to travel with his wife. After retiring and leaving his only son in charge of the family business, he decided to see the world.- "And when will they be back?"- "When we have reason. Maybe on your birthday."Ethan turned to the bedroom door when he heard it open, and found his friend and attorney entering the room. Joseph Carter was dressed in sweats and a thin t-shirt after a quick run to
- "They have an alleged involvement in the mafia" he confided.- "And when did it ever seem like a good idea to ask me to seduce a mobster?" Blair questioned, sarcasm and mockery dripping from her tone.- "If you knew who he really was, you would never agree to work with me," Spencer argued.The truth was that, five months earlier, the inspector was desperate. He had already carried out other investigations into the Benedict case, and all of them had failed. However, when he discovered that the daughter of a filmmaker had requested a transfer from the New York department to the Las Vegas department, the inspector saw the perfect opportunity to infiltrate the elite. Blair Collins was above suspicion. The man did not want to miss this opportunity, because he knew that it would be years before he had another.- "Is that all?" Blair inquired.- "Benedict was also involved with the Mafia. He was one of George Banks' best friends. I started investigating my brother when I became suspicious
- "I liked the flowers," I comment. I know Mirtes is happy when I compliment her. She thinks that somehow I'm getting better. Maybe I really am. Pretending better.- "That's nice, Blair. I like it when you wear pink."She buys me pink dresses, and pink shoes, and pink socks. Well, I realized that she has turned me into her own personal doll. I can't complain, since she keeps me in her house and feeds me. The least I can do is be grateful for all of this.- "I know" I start moving my hands, my good old habit. I do this when I'm starting to get nervous, just like now.- "It looks like it's going to rain today, so I decided to have the party in the living room, not in the garden. I hope you won't be upset."Mirtes walks closer to me. Too close. I really like her, but I don't know how close I can stand someone. It's like she's entering my comfort zone, like Jean used to do.- "Okay. I like the room."- "And I picked out a pretty dress for you to wear. It's pink," she smiles sweetly, and I
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