- "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
The first day after her night with Ethan, Blair could still smell his perfume lingering on her body. It was as if his scent was what she breathed in and out.By the second day, Blair was on the edge of madness. She felt the touch of his hands, his tongue. It was all so real that she could have sworn she was reliving that night. That blessed night.On the third day, she had to go back to work. No texts, no calls, no sign of life. Ethan was unavailable to her, and perhaps to the rest of the world as well. There was no news on social media or in the gossip pages. Ethan was back on top of the world, where no one could see him or reach him.During those days, Blair also had no news of Spencer. Since the unfriendly conversation at the police station, the inspector had not called again. This left the woman disoriented as to what to do next.Blair entered the agency where she worked, even though she was completely unwell. She greeted Claire, the receptionist, and remembered that this woman ha
The redhead's dress clung to her body. As she danced, the fabric threatened to reveal more than it should. Her entire anatomy was in sync; from her delicate hands to her well-defined legs. What she did was talented and pleasing to the eye. To say that the men around her desired her would be an understatement; they idolized her.- "I need water, babe. If any trouble comes your way, just tell them we're dating and everything will be fine," Drake shouted, so his voice could be heard over the music.- "Okay," she confirmed with a nod.It wasn't right that Blair needed to have a boyfriend in order to avoid being harassed. She should, in fact, be able to push men away simply because she didn't want to be around them. However, in the real world, things were worse than ideal.The redhead continued dancing when the music changed. It was slow, more sensual than the previous one, requiring calmer movements. At that moment, Blair gave way to the sensuality that was her by nature. The female voice
He opened the emergency door and stepped out into the cold Las Vegas night. The hot weather from the crowds made them sweat, but the cool breeze outside greeted them with refreshment. The door opened onto an alley, somewhat devoid of light, and only two cars were parked on the narrow street. The loud music could still be heard, but less loudly.- "Don't tell me this place is yours," Blair finally said, realizing that Ethan knew the emergency exit precisely.- "Okay, I don't say"- "The place is yours! I'm not surprised Daliah got the tickets," she accused.Ethan didn't deny it, he knew he wouldn't need it. It was true. If Daliah had received the invitations to be in that environment, on that date, it was because he had plans. All he had to do was count on a little luck.- "Stop projecting my life, you are not God" having the man's silence as an answer, Blair spoke again.- "That's not what I heard the other night." At that moment, the man's voice was a few levels deeper.The redhead s
Blair reread the letter more times than she could count. Several questions raced through her mind, but none of them had immediate answers. She walked quickly to the intercom, the letter still in her hands. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweating, and anxiety was slowly creeping to the surface. Blair called the front desk, and it wasn't long before she got through.- "Hi, I'm Blair Collins. I just got home and saw someone left a package for me. They're flowers. I'd like to know who sent them." She didn't wait until the girl on the other end of the line finished her professional catchphrase.- "Miss Collins, could you tell me the apartment code, please?"- "126"- "Well, I'm afraid no package has come through reception, not for this apartment. Perhaps someone with access to the apartment has given it to you as a gift," the receptionist suggested.- "Are... are you sure?"- "Yes, Miss Collins."Blair turned to the arrangement again, wondering who could have placed it in her home. T
Ethan placed both hands on the edge of the marble. With perfect synchronization, Blair parted her legs, making room for the man to position himself between them. At that moment, he felt like he should never have left that spot.He began to sink into Blair's body, sliding into her as if he were made to do so. It all happened in slow motion. Their eyes were fixed on each other; they reflected pure evil. Ethan stared at the woman as she moaned, then looked at himself through the reflection in the mirror.The man's lips traveled to Blair's throat, and she hugged him with arms and legs. He wanted to take every inch of her in his mouth, taste her skin and make her moan, knowing exactly what and how to do it. And, despite being in his comfort zone, Ethan held his breath every time Blair squeezed him.Each movement excited them more, bringing them to the precipice of pleasure several times. Their bodies had their own rhythm and their moans were synchronized. The desire they had to never stop
- "Inspector, you have already questioned me more times than the law allows, and you have never been able to prove that I am guilty. Do not abuse my good will in receiving you."- "What if I told you that I now have the means to prove your part in the crime?"- "I'd say you need to improve your lies"There was a knock on the door, and not even the constant sound was enough to make Ethan look away from Spencer. Normally, he didn't mind these visits, which happened at least three times a year. Every time the inspector thought he had found new evidence, he would open a new investigation and seek out Ethan for further questioning. The results were always the same.- "Excuse me," Joseph Carter muttered as he entered the office.The lawyer wasn't surprised to see Spencer in the room, but he hadn't expected his visit so soon. He walked over to Ethan's desk and stood next to his boss.- "Mr. Carter, how long has it been since we last saw each other?" the older man asked, a hint of humor in hi
- "Yes, I shouldn't be long"- "Don't forget to use a condom, babe. We don't want thirty billion dollars running around the house... or do we?" Drake tilted his head to the side, still smiling at his friend's horrified face.- "No, Drake, we don't want to" with that, Blair grabbed her bag from the bed and left the room, before she could hear another joke from her friend.- "I love you. Kisses" he shouted.*Blair walked out of the elevator, the memories hitting her hard. It was as if she could picture Ethan's image on the walls, his silhouette as he walked closer, the way he looked at her.The starry night had already fallen over Vegas, and the only lights in the hallway emanated from the city, or from the lamps on the ceiling.She walked up to Banks's apartment door, debating whether or not to knock. Given the fact that he hadn't knocked on her door earlier that morning, she decided to do the same. Blair turned the knob, and was surprised to find the door open. She entered the apartm
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