by Ky Crossfire
CEO
Rebel Loves
Ky Crossfire
Cover design: Malta design
Copyright 2020
All rights reserved
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Prologue
Isa Oliveira Brandão
I spread the flour over the granite countertop, mumbling about our last fight.
— “You can’t do anything right… do you have to talk back to everything I say?”— I mutter, trying to mimic his voice.
I take the bread dough from the glass bowl and start punching it vigorously. I pound the globe of uncooked dough, putting out all my anger on it.
— You wanna fire me, you jerk? — I punch again, giving strong hits until my hands start to tingle — I’m sorry — another punch — if I can’t talk in that fucking tone you’re used to. — I press and stretch the dough again. Flour goes everywhere.
— Then fire me, you bastard jerk — I jab the bread.
— I — jab — just ha… — Before I can put down my hand to end the last beating to the bread which I had, mentally, named Nick, I feel my wrist being gripped in the air, restraining me from giving the last hit.
Nick turns me around with a pull without letting my arm go.
— Just what?— he faces me, I feel the heat radiating through his body, Nick’s huge, muscular body.
— Let me go- I threat.
— We have unfinished business. — His voice is firm, yet he keeps the same controlling tone as always.
— I have shit nothing to solve with you, we’re not friends anymore, in fact, we never were. You’re just my boss and my one job is to clean the house and take care of your son — I answer, barely screaming.
— Why do you try so hard to keep me away from you when I have just what your body needs?
— God… go shove it up your ass Nicolas. — I lose control — I am your maid, no more, no less. Now, let my fucking arm go before I knee your balls show you how good that is.
He laughs as if I didn’t have the guts to do it, and his mockery is enough to get me hot-blooded.
I try to hit him, but he dodges from my blow and now presses me against the countertop, using his body to keep me cornered there.
— That was a close one. — he mocks.
My last chance is to use my left hand, which is still free, to slap him hard, those loud slaps we see in chick flicks. I try to hit him, but he stops me again.
— Let me go, you motherfucker. — I growl.
Nick holds both my wrists with enough strength so I can’t get free and puts himself between my legs so I can’t kick him.
— Let go of them horseshoes, Isa. — he jokes.
Bastard, why is he so happy, I can’t wait to take that little smirk out of his face.
— I’ll show you the goddamn horseshoes soon, when I shove that rolling pin right up you ass.
Nick is still shirtless. His hot, sweaty body pressed against mine.
— I really don’t know how such a thick and gorgeous mouth like yours can be so tough.
He looks at my lips. He smiles again, displaying white, even teeth.
— Why don’t you give me at least a birthday kiss?
— Easy, you moron. Because I’m not one of those ones you’re used to use, abuse and discard.
— One harmless kiss, and I let you go. — he offers, slightly leaning his head to the side, such as almost putting his mouth against mine. — Just one.
Before I could tell him to go to hell and leave me the fuck alone, Nick snapped his mouth against mine, his lips tasted freshly of mint and peach. For the first time in my life, I was speechless, actionless and with my heart on my sleeve. All the hate I had nurtured for him through all these month changed into desire, hot and dry, for that kiss to never, ever end, because the taste of Nick’s lips and the hard, passionate way he kissed me was way too intense, unbearably smothering, and I knew what he was doing, breaking down my walls. As he took my lips, I saw myself become lost, with a crushing feeling that changed everything.
Fuck! He had the world’s most amazing kiss, and I had already had my fair share of kisses during my teenage years, and my ex, Jorge, also had a knack to it, but not like that.
The hands that once pinned me took another route: one got lost in my hair, and the other, grabbed my waist, pressing me even more against his body. Mine, however, were still fallen against my sides, since I had no control over myself at that point. I know that few minutes ago I was craving to kick him in the nuts and slap him good, enough to make my hands hurt, but now… now, my dear friend, I’m just crazy with the fierceness of that kiss, rough, hot and crazed.
The true issue was all that was coming next, maybe the reason why I resisted him so much, I was always an unmitigated woman, there’s no inbetween in my life, for me it’s either all or nothing, and what was happening in that moment would leave me utterly unprepared for what would happen next.
Fairytales and “happily ever after” are only seen in movies and books. In real life, shit is not like that at all and, now, I was there, letting Nick take over my body and my mind with that one kiss. I did try, I tried with all my strength, for fuck’s sake, you’ll be a witness of my suffering.
If I only knew how much it would hurt, if I had the power to go back in time and tell myself: “run, go as far away from him as you can”; I would, because if I knew what the future had for me, I would have never accepted this job, would never have let Nick mess with me this way.
Because, when I love, i give all of myself, and Nick would be the man who would destroy me whole, and he didn’t know that yet, fuck, neither did I.
Nick ran his hands down my back, caressed my behind with a squeeze and lifted me, making me seat on the cold countertop
— Nick, please — I said barely breathless when he took his lips off from mine for one or two seconds.
— Shut up, Isa, shut up and kiss me.
Shit, that was the beginning of the end. Except that the one that would get most hurt out of us would be the fool talking to you, not the sexy, bearded giant with a long, honey blonde mane. But tell me, who listens to the voice of reason when they’re horny and dizzy off passion? And little me wasn’t an exception.
Thus, I let him, that’s how I gave in to raving desire, that night would go down in history, our short, messed up, red hot love story.
Chapter 1
Nicolas Santoro Reis
I had a scheduled meeting in exact 5 minutes in the conference room of the company I ran alongside Diana Weiss, but my friend Rico had sat in the chair right in front of me with a worried look on his face. With his index finger, he messed with a scar that left a small flaw on his right eyebrow. A scar he had gotten short before becoming a teenager when we would pla
y-fight with slings. I don’t even need to mention the fact that Isa ran after me through the whole farm to try and avenge her stricken brothers. We were just boys, she didn’t understand that, if there were no bruised knees or blemishes, that meant we didn’t play as much as we could.
And seeing him mess with his scar like that, I could figure my best friend’s issue had Isa in the middle.
— Will it be faster if you tell me what’s going on? Or do you want to pull the last hairs out of that gay ass eyebrow, which I’d actually even rather, because, then, there’s more women left for me. — I joke and lay back on the chair.
— Oh, it’s serious stuff, bro. — he answers, with a half-hearted smile.
Rico was like a brother to me, we were the same age and had been raise basically together up to our teenage years. Isa, on the other hand, that little pest was a foul-mouthed devil.
— Then just say it already. — I hurry him, already becoming uneasy with all the roundabouts, after all, it wasn’t like Rico nor Isa to be speechless.
— Don’t tell me you’ve knocked someone up. Cause, if that’s so, I want to be the little anklebiter’s godfather.
— It’s Isa — He says at last. — She broke up with Jorge.
I make myself straight in my chair and run my hand through my beard without knowing yet how to react over the nes. That’s great, that guy was pulling Isa back!
— And I need some help from you. — he explains.
— Where exactly do I come in this? — I cross my arms and stare him down.
— You know how stubborn Isa is.
That’s my turn to laugh,
— Stubborn?! — I laugh again. — Unbearably pigheaded and foul-mouthed would fit her better.
— I know, I know, — Rico agrees with em and continues to talk. — but now she needs to move from that Jorge scumbag’s house and get a stable job.
— So you want me to get her a job here in the agency?
I could do that, as I held fifty-one percent of the national market’s most well rated modelling agency stock shares. I could get Isa a job, but I knew that pest, she would call out all the Kylie Jenners here and that kind of conflict wasn’t good for my image, nor the company’s.
— With how out of control we know she is, I don’t think she would last long. — I explain.
— I was thinking about your house — he suggests. — As a substitute for your cleaning team. At least until she can get stable, she’s been telling me she’s been putting away some money to open her own bakery for a while now.
Having Isa in my house 24 hours a day was a mental and physical risk, we would end up killing each other.
— You have cash, I know managing my stud farm yields you some good money. Why don’t you take her to you apartment?
— I have offered her money already, I even made a check, she ripped it and told me to shove it up my ass. She’s too proud and won’t take help. If she even dreams that I’m asking you to hire her, she’ll rip my dick off and feed it to my dogs.
— And where is she now? — I say, looking at my wristwatch.
— Down there, at Little Carol, fuming — he answers, seeming to be slightly relieved to realize I’m up to helping Isa.
I got up and went to the massive floor-to-ceiling window that constituted the whole wall, allowing me a full view of Copacabana beach. And there was she, chocolate-like brown hair, the waves rolling with the wind.
— Tell her to come up. I want to talk to her.
— Now?! — He seems surprised. — I think it’s better to wait until tomorrow, her argument with Jorge is making Isa puff fire out of her nostrils.
I smile half-heartedly.
— Bring on the beast. — I say again. — I can handle it.
— Alright… but don’t come saying I didn’t warn you, today’s not a good day. Dude, I’m telling you, Isa is really pissed.
— I’ll take a chance. — I answer, confidently.
Isa Oliveira Brandão
A few hours earlier...
Even not being currently on the game, I religiously take my contraceptive pill before breakfast. Because you know what it’s like, right? Rich women try their hardest to get pregnant and still can’t manage it. Broke ones get jizz on their tights and are soon pregnant with twins. And with my luck… You don’t even know the deal, sit tight because I’m going to tell you all of it…
After taking my pill, I went to the bedroom, picked up the laundry basket and carried it to the laundry room right next to my small kitchen. I was there, throwing clothes in the washing machine, when the smell of one of Jorge’s t-shirts hit me. You know the stench of trashy ass whore cologne? Damn right, that same smell was impregnated on the motherfucker’s clothes!
Calm down Isa, one reeking t-shirt is no reason to panic, this dime-store perfume must be from one of his clients.
Jorge was a personal trainer, and that made me possessed by jealousy, but he sweared on his mother’s grave that he was professional and only had eyes for me. I, being the dumbass I am, believed him. But c’mon, how could I not, we had been together for nine years, the idea of being cheated on never went through my head, at least not until today.
But, girlfriend, that’s what being fooled around is like, when you least expect it, they’re already calling you a side bitch.
I look for more proof, I need proof. Clothes fly everywhere, his shorts, sweaty tank tops, aaaand bingo! This time, my heart beats faster, I wanted to be wrong, I really wanted to have any explanation that wasn’t the obvious one, he cheated on me. HE DID! Because that’s what that goddamned bubblegum pink lipstick meant.
— You fucking bastard! — I curse, throwing clothes everywhere.
With curses choked down my throat, I mumble to myself and march down to the living room, waiting for him to come back to have breakfast, bringing the warm bread he went to the bakery down the corner to buy.
— Oh if you think I’m gonna let this end here. — I mumble again.
I look at the CDs organized around the TV, right aside the trophies he had won through the last four years, since he finished his graduation to work with PE and sports.
— Hold up, let me take a breath and think — I look at the couch and push it towards the front door, so when that creeping bastard try to come in, I’ll have more time to throw everything through the window!
Ready! Door blocked by the three seat couch, done!
I go back to our bedroom remembering all the times Jorge curved me. I open the wardrobe’s doors and get some of his most precious belongings, the official shirt of the Brazilian soccer team signed by all the members and, also, the official shirt of Flamengo that, just like the other, was signed by all the members of the team.
— This is for you to learn not to mess with me, douchebag. — with shaking hands, I get the pair of scissors from the sewing kit inside my intimates drawer. Hurryingly, I go back to the living room walking quick steps and stop at the small porch that gives a view of a another building.
I starting cutting up the yellow shirt. I make pieces of its fabric rain. There, in the third floor, I could see Jorge’s mortified face when he saw what I was doing. He ran and crossed the street without even looking.
— Isa, don’t! — He screams from down there.
— What? I can’t hear you now! — I mutter, now holding the Flamengo shirt. — Stop what, Jorge?
Black and red fabric patches start raining over him.
— Hold up, I got something for you!
I let down the scissors and run to the shelves. I get some of his trophies and then some of his favourites CDs and return to the porch.
— Isa, No. You’re gonna hit someone — He screams when he sees what I have on my hands.
— Oh, damn right I am… with some luck, I’m gonna hit you! — I shout — You — I throw the first trophies, and it breaks down in little pieces — son of — I throw another and, this time, almost hit him — a bitch! — When there’s no more trophies to shoot, I start throw
ing the CDs — Bastard asshole!
— Isa, babe — he begs with his face red from anger and shame from the fact that our neighbor were almost falling from the windows of their apartments, keeping their eyes wide open so they don’t lose one second of our argument.
— Babe? — I scream — Babe your ass, son of a bitch!
With my ears fuming out of anger, I return to our living room to look for more ammunition.
I go to our bedroom once more and, with one arm, get all his pants and shirts from the hangers. I hear desperate knocks from the front door.
Jorge is trying to open the door! Instead of walking, I run to the porch and get rid of his clothes. I do it again and again until there’s nothing else belonging to him in the wardrobe.
Borderline breathless, I look at the picture frame next to the TV. A selfie of us taken nine years ago. My heart tightens. I hear the front door being busted by a kick.
He got in.
— Are you out of your mind?! — He jumps over the couch and, as he tries to come closer to me, I use the picture frame to threat him.
— Don’t play dumb, cause I have found everything out! — I scream — Tell the bitch you are screwing around with that that lipstick stain was welcome. Afterall, now I know you are a lying fucker!
— Isa, it was an accident. Let me explain.
— Accident? — I shout. — So you were walking down the street and some skank with hot pink lipstick tripped and fell with her mouth right on your dick. And of course, being the gentleman you are, you pushed the bitch away and said: no, Ms. Skank, I am a taken man, pulled your pants up and went on with your day — I scoff at him. — Take your shitty excuses and shove them up your ass, okay?!
Jorge runs his hand through his face to dry out the nervous sweat, and I stay with the picture frame in my hand, ready to smash right in the bastard’s face if he dared to come closer.
He leans against the couch and faces me like a defeated martyr.
— Look at that picture, Isa. We aren’t that couple anymore, you are not the same majestic girl who had the sexiest body in the whole university.