by Ky Crossfire
Little Nick looks at me angrily.
— That's what your father does. One affair after another. He doesn't care about us! He never did.
Nicolas is no longer by my side.
— You thought he was going to stay with you. — The blonde and angelic beautiful woman says with disgust as she runs her hands through her son's hair. — Nicolas can't love anyone. You are just one more for Mr. Reis' long list.
I woke up suffocated, feeling tears streaming down my face. I got up without making any noise and put on my clothes. I looked at Nicolas one last time before I left.
Chapter 21
Nicolas Reis
When I woke up, the darkness had already taken over the room. Isa was no longer in my arms. I looked at my torso, on my arms and chest were still the marks of the scratches she made. It wasn’t a dream. Not this time. I knew there was no point in calling her name. Isabel was gone.
Even after I told her everything and talk wounds that were already healed. Damn, what else did she want from me? I got out of bed and put on my boxers. Beside of the bed were the keys to my new truck and the iPhone. She didn’t bother to let me a fucking note.
I took out my cell phone and flung it against the mirror. The shrapnel spread over the shag carpet. I opened the wardrobe doors. All her things were gone. I smashed the door with a punch.
— I’m such an idiot! - I growled furious at myself for letting her see though me that way.
I destroyed everything I saw in front of me until there was nothing left.
I went down the stairs and went straight for the kitchen. I know she won't be there, but I’m stupid enough to have some faith.
It’s empty.
“I gave you that choker. It was me, Isabel! Not him! I chose, I searched a lot of stores until I found a gift that was special.”
I relived our fight in my mind, it was like she was in front of me again. Static. Without a reaction.
“Because I'm an idiot, a fucking idiot in love. How can you not see that?”
I punch the refrigerator door letting the mark of my fist marked there.
My knuckles throb.
"You’re an asshole!" I remember her curses and I laugh alone.
Furious, I drop everything on the bench. All the sweets. The cakes go to the floor, the glass on the platter’s breaks, and I keep looking at all that hate-filled mess.
"And clean up that mess ‘cause I’m not paid to clean up a shit from a bearded man, especially one like you." I hear her in my head.
I sit on the floor and lean my head on the bench, wanting the tightness in my chest to ease. I want to get Isabel's voice out of my head.
Fuck. I just fucking want to forget!
Everything here reminds me of her. Her sweet smell is ingrained in me.
My cell phone vibrates somewhere in the middle of all the chaos I made. I find it under some broken glass. Maybe it's the devil woman saying she’s sorry for leaving me.
— Hello, Isabel? — I don't even try to hide my nervous tone mixed with irritation.
The laughter on the other end of the line reveals that Diana is calling me.
— Nicolas, honey. — Her voice is soft and probes discreetly. — Please, tell your employee that I need to hand something to you.
I angry snitch.
— Now is not the time, Diana. I'll see that next week.
— It's urgent, Nick. These are contracts that you need to see. As far as I know, you're still the CEO of the agency.
I remain silent and then I hear the doorman's voice on the cell phone.
— Good evening, Mr. Reis, may I allow Miss. Weiss in?
— Of course, jerk. This property belongs to my sister. — I hear Diana's voice offended.
— You can let her in. — I say and hang up the phone.
I get up from the floor and walk to the refrigerator. I open the door marked with my fists, take a bottle of cold water and drink it.
— What hurricane went through here? — Diana watches me, touching her platinum hair. - That's what we get when let a man hire a maid.
She shakes her head.
— You hired her for the size of her ass, not her qualifications.
I walk over to her and take a white envelope out of her hands.
— Delivery done — I growl. — You can go now.
Her blue eyes travel over my scratched chest and, with her fingertips, she feels the marks left by Isa.
— How did you let a woman mark your body like that? — She asked, shaking her head in disapproval.
Her hand went down my abdomen until it reached the volume of my underwear.
I grabbed her wrist and repelled her touch.
— No! — I shout without patience for her games. — I don't need to show you the way out.
— You're hurting me, Nick.
I release her wrist and walk out of there.
— I just hope you're taking care of yourself. You would be foolish to fall into the same mistake twice.
Isa Oliveira Brandão
After the most expensive taxi ride of my life, I hand over one hundred dollars bill and still owe the driver five. Rico opens the car door, and I swallow my feelings, locking everything up for myself. This is not the right time to fall apart. I just can’t deal with it right now.
— Rico, lend me five dollars — I say in a choked voice.
He takes his wallet out of his back pocket and takes out a bill.
— Thanks. — I take the money and give it to the taxi driver, who gives me a smile without showing his teeth.
— I'll leave my card with you.
— No need - I say stupidly and look at Rico.
— Could you help me with my bags?
He takes my two bags without straining, and I slam the car door.
We enter the building where he lives. We didn't exchange a word until we are inside his apartment.
Rico drops my bags on the floor and props the huge body against the wall. His arms bend at the level of his chest, and he arches his failed eyebrow. I know he is going to ask me what happened.
— What did Jorge do this time? I’m gonna rip that son of a bitch's balls off.
— You will not rip anything... — I throw myself on the sofa, my body’s aching, still under the influence of Nicolas.
Rico looks confused.
— If it wasn't him then who did it to you? — He asks suspiciously.
I look at him. Rico wears a light gray T-shirt, worn jeans and short riding boots. I try to change the subject of the conversation.
— Looks like you're about to leave. You’re all dressed up. — I take a deep breath and cover my face with my forearm.
— It was Nick, wasn't it?
— Huh? - I try not to look surprised.
—The fight was so bad that you gave up of your bakery?
Yeah... it was very ugly fight... and we weren’t wearing any clothes on. His body against mine, our hands in our chests, legs, with the right to pull hair, scratches and bites. The fight had been so ugly that part of my body was flayed and others were purple and painful.
— Who said I gave up? — I say clearing my throat. — I just won't work for him anymore. It’s not possible.
I'm quiet again. I don't want to talk about it or I will end up crying. And I really don't want to cry.
— I can see you don't want to talk about it.
I make a positive sign with my right hand without taking my arm off my face.
— Rico. — I call before he leaves the room.
— Yeah?
— I need to get back to the farm — I say in a low voice. — Can you take me to the airport and buy me a ticket?
— Okay. Tomorrow I'll take you there.
— No. — I sit on the sofa and look directly at him. — Not tomorrow. I want to do it now.
Nicolas Reis
I woke up to the mechanical sound of some electronics. A vacuum cleaner, maybe.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and made a high and loo
se bun with my hair. As soon as I left the room, I came across uniformed women cleaning, sweeping and organizing everything.
The traces of my explosion from the previous day were almost gone.
They cleaned in silence with their heads down. I couldn't help thinking about Isa again, singing and rolling, splashing water everywhere, making a microphone with the broom.
— Already up, honey? — Diana left the room used to be was occupied by Isabel.
— What the fuck? — furious growl.
She pats my shoulder lightly.
— What language is that, Nick? I'm not recognizing you. — She hooks her arm in mine. - Come here, I asked for a continental coffee to be prepared for us.
— Diana, what the fuck is this? — I shouted, going down the stairs, three other women were cleaning the room.
I head straight for the kitchen. On the table, a lot of different cakes and fresh fruit. The table was set for two. Diana sat down, and I settled in front of her.
I take a slice of the cake and take a bite. Is not the same thing. It doesn't taste the same.
— I don't know what’s going on in your mind when you hired that woman. Have you ever noticed what she did with your suits? One of the maids found a pile of twisted shirts and blazers, expensive clothes that cannot be saved.
I drop the cake on the plate.
— Get out, Diana.
— What did you say? — She asks as she cuts a slice of cheese.
The two women who organize the kitchen looked at each other, but say nothing.
— Are you deaf? — I roar and get up.
— Honey, let's not be so dramatic. — She places the knife on the linen napkin and smiles. — Let's enjoy our breakfast. I promise not to mention the subject of your private house keeper anymore.
I grab her by the arm and push her to her feet.
— You! — I shout. — GET. THE. HELL. OUT. OF. HERE!
I leave the kitchen dragging Diana by the arm.
— Out! All of you, get the hell out of my house! — I demand again.
They stop everything they are doing and leave in a hurry.
— Nicolas! — Diana tries to break free. — You're acting like a crazy man.
I put her out the door.
— Great. Maybe you will stop acting like a bitch and leave me alone. You are not my wife, Diana. Now get the fuck out of my sight.
I tried to fill the following weeks with work. It had been almost a month since she left me. I was determined not to think about her. I sank into contracts and meetings; I was the first to arrive at the agency and the last one to leave. The nights were harder. I only knew ways to be numb: working out and drinking until I fell. On nights, when I was lucky, I just blacked out, but for the most part, she invaded my dreams, brazen, sexy and rebellious.
My cell phone vibrated under the pillow.
It was pass eleven pm.
— Talk to me, Pimp. — Rico seems euphoric.
— Say it, man. — I rub my eyes and the room is still spinning.
— I have some hot girls here. We want to extend the party to your pool. Meat’s best quality.
— Not today — I say in a hushed voice.
— What the fuck? Wait a second. I'll send you a picture of them.
I hear Rico instruct the girls. "Do a sexy pose."
I hear laughter in the background and sounds of kisses...
I was about to hang up when the image of the photo just taken appears on my phone screen. There’s a blonde and a redhead making out.
— We're already in front of your house. — He smiled.
— You can use the pool, but I'm not going.
I hang up and send a message to the doorman to allow Rico get in with the girls.
It doesn't take long until I can hear a female laughter from the pool and screams of euphoria. I curl up on the sheet, still "half" drunk by the drink I took earlier. I hear Rico's quick, heavy footsteps and soon he enters in my room. Rico opens a can of beer and arches a failed eyebrow.
— No. Don't tell me that. — He laughs before taking a long drink of beer. – You became a pussy.
— Go fuck yourself, moron — I curse and cover my head with the pillow.
Rico laughs again.
— Then tell me why we're here just talking when there are six hot babes in the pool? One hornier than the other. Two blondes, two redheads and two brunettes. One more pure than the other.
— Get out, Rico — I complain and my voice is muffled by the pillow.
— C’mon, pimp — he teases and I feel him push my foot with his boot. — Let’s go, you fagot. If you continue like this, I will suspect that you are letting someone to put the dick into your ass.
— Go fuck yourself — curse.
He tosses the empty can and it hits me in the chest.
— Who was the golden cunt that left you like that, huh?
I throw the pillow at him and get out of bed
— It was your sister!
Rico's laughter disappears, and I don't remember anything after the beating he gives me on the chin. Rico walks beside me, I see two of him, maybe three, they pull his dark hair back.
— Get up, you bastard. I don't hit a dog on the floor — he roars furiously.
— That bitch — I lift a little groggy — She left me because of that stupid chef. That they burn in hell.
I lean on Rico, still dizzy from the blow and all the house whiskey.
— What the fuck are you talking about? Did you fuck my sister, you piece of shit?
— I did — I confess when alcohol speaks louder and won't let me lie. — And I would fuck her again, but she left me.
Rico's fist hit me harder this time.
And I?
I went for the knockout.
Chapter 22
Isa Oliveira Brandão
I had just the best man of all time right by my side, the only CEO who was allowed to mess with my head, Christian Grey. The hours I spent doing nothing between connections were in the company of Greyconda. I had read and reread the book a lot of times, I knew each line backwards, but, anyway, read always calm me down. Correction, eating and reading calm me down.
While I destroyed my third milkshake, I stretched out in the armchair and realized that there was a woman spying on my reading.
— Do you also like a guy who fucks hard? — I say in a low voice. — Because I do love it.
The woman adjusts her glasses and tucks her purse around her shoulder to find another place to sit.
I laughed alone and went back to my reading. The problem is that my thoughts were miles away. It was practically impossible not to think about him. Not when I had his marks still on my body.
“Because I'm an idiot, a fucking idiot in love. How can you not see that?”
His voice does not come out of my head. No, Isabel, I say to myself, get that man out of your head. Focus on Grey. However, reading “Fifty Shades” this time couldn’t calm me down. Nothing could.
When I arrived in Corumbá, my mom and grandmother were waiting for me at the gate. As difficult as it is to hide my feelings, there is no grownup who doesn’t fall apart when falls into the mother arms. Damn, I needed that comfort.
— My sweet girl. — She hugged me tight. — I was so homesick. I knew that Jorge's dogs were worthless.
— Stop, mom, — I say. It’s better not to talk about dogs, otherwise I remember... wolf.
My grandmother is in her nineties and evaluates me from top to bottom before hugging me.
- I can’t believe. - She puts a wrinkled hand on my belly.
- Oh, grandma! - I complain offended. – Don’t even think about it. Have you gone nuts?
I pull her to me, and hug her.
— You are getting too much sun on your white head.
— I already said she should dye her hair. But your grandmother is like your father. I don't know who is more stubborn.
When we arrived at the farm, I left my two bags in the living room and
went to the bedroom.
— Do you want me to prepare something for you to eat? — My grandma stops at the door. — I was thinking about that mango tortilla you love. What do you think?
I wanted to say that she didn't have to do it. That I was sick to my stomach since early in that morning, but then she was going to insist again, wanting to put her hand on my belly.
— I’m not crazy to deny it. — I force a smile. — Give me some time that I’ll go to the kitchen to help. I just need to take a nap cause I’m very tired.
— I know how it is, it really makes you sleepy. — She giggles as if she knows something I don't.
- Grandma! Get those ideas out of your head.
She mumbles out and leaves the door half open.
I lie down on the bed and feel the sore muscles. I run my hands over my thighs. I close my eyes and remember Nicolas's huge hands sliding over my skin. The feel of his beard brushing against my body. His kisses and teasing.
I fidget on the bed and try to get him out of my head. I look at the open window. The smell of weeds that the fresh breeze brings relieves the nausea.
I close my eyes and older memories come to mind. Our fights and as always, in all his weekly visits, Nicolas found a way to irritate or tease me.
"You know that after the shower and with that dress, you look cute."
— Isabel!? — My father enters the room. The muddy boots and the shirt slung over his shoulder. — Where's your father's hug?
He rubs his dirty hands over his pants and hugs me tight.
— Hi, Dad — I say a little embarrassed when he sees me drying some tears.
— Oh, my little girl, — He comforts me with a more affectionate tone. — You have no idea the effort I had to make to not go there to take that bastard dick off. Jorge. I always knew that fret wasn't a man for you. The problem is that you are a soft like your mother. There’s no much that I can do.
I snitch.
That rich man will pay me. I'll try to pluck the eyebrow out of that bag mouth!