All Chapters of SOLD TO THE CEO: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The Persada Club is an extremely elite executive club. You don't necessarily need to have money to attend, but you do need to be in the right place at the right time with the right people. It's one of my favorite clubs in New York. Conducive to doing business, because no one here cares what the other is doing.I place my hand on the base of Angelic's spine. She looks around her, curious as always, anxious as always. Her steps are slow, for she wants to see everything her eyes can reach.After leaving her father's office, she was already in the living room. She was already mine - almost legally - but I politely invited her to come with me.The Persada is on the top floor of one of the steepest buildings in town. The music is loud, but not as loud as in a nightclub. The lighting is dim which facilitates any illegal trade that might take place. And believe me, they are coming.Most people are at tables or in private booths, but some venture onto the dance floor. There are also dancers on

ANGELIC...Bought.Like a commodity.Bought. It's simple.I lean my forehead against the icy car window. My head hurts like never before. Now at least I can control the tears of anger.Anger at LeBlanc and Elliot for treating me as one of their contracts. I can even imagine them negotiating my value in the boardroom. But mostly mad at myself. I should have listened to my instincts the first time I met LeBlanc in the White House ballroom. Should have stayed away. I should have listened to Detective Pierce when he warned me.What was I expecting anyway? That someone would look at me and see me as more than an extension of Elliot's business? Absurdity!- To lack? - I hear the call of the taxi driver. I look at him through the rear view mirror, noticing that the car is stopped - We are there - he warns.- Right.I look for pockets on the sides of the dress, then I remember it has none. I look around, slowly realizing that I even forgot my shoes, not to mention my cards. I look at the taxi

“I also had a stepmother, says Gabe, she was a whore.I laugh, spitting out most of the orange juice.- They are all - I say, still between two laughs.Gabe is LeBlanc's cook. She comes, takes her meal of the day and leaves. The same pattern applies to the woman who cleans, or to the one who irons the clothes. Apparently the man hates company when he's in the apartment.Gabe finishes frying the bacon and places it on my plate. I asked him to because LeBlanc doesn't eat "junk food". In twenty minutes of conversation with Gabe, I discovered more about LeBlanc than in twenty weeks with the individual.When I finished showering, I just put on a bathrobe, since my clothes are at Elliot's. I felt bad about everything, but that feeling disappeared as soon as I started talking to Gabe.- Margot spends all of Elliot's money. She just doesn't know how to save - I continue our conversation about evil stepmothers.- Lizie was no different. She sold dad's car while he was away, she said.I smile a

- Neither - his deep voice, meant only for me, causes a lump to form in my throat. He makes me nervous very easily.I look down at my plate. LeBlanc can read me like a magazine, as if all my thoughts were arranged in a sign on my forehead. I don't want him to think for even a second that I agree with his decision."I want to see Vicenzo," I said suddenly.When I look up, I notice LeBlanc still staring at me. Now one of his eyebrows is arched.- Because?I smile. Have I lost my right to come and go?- Because he's my boyfriend, and I need a friendly shoulder – I shrug – To support my legs.Thank goodness Gabe is already gone. I had a really good conversation with her, and I wouldn't want her to see me as an asshole. But if she knew why I'm here, she'd agree.LeBlanc clenches his jaw but doesn't take his eyes off mine."No," he said simply.What? He has more common sense than that!I didn't want to leave. And he definitely didn't want to go out to see Vicenzo. However, from one hour to

THE WHITE...There are smart men. Those who build airplanes, who move a piece of sheet metal and call it a car. Men who make the world prosper, because they always take something out of their mind and put it in the ground.On the other hand, there are the muscular men. They rarely use their brain more than their arms. They are the executors. The evil one can even build the plane, but who will fly it?But still, there is a third category, and I dare say it is the best of all. Clever men and doers. Those who don't use their brains to do something, but pay someone to do it. They are the infamous bosses, the ones who pay the salaries of smart people and executors, and don't even have to get out of bed.It's interesting, because right now I see two men working. One is an airline pilot; executor man. The other is an advisor; the smart man. They argue over refueling the plane for the past month, and they each have a point of view. The thing is, whatever the discussion, they're both on my pay