If I lost everything – my apartment, my scholarship to Hudson – but I still had Steele, I’d be the richest girl in the world.
Chapter 17
Steele
Three months can seem like a short amount of time, but for someone like me, it was an eternity.
I couldn’t take my mind off of Rosy. That wasn’t anything new, but as time went on, I only became more and more frustrated.
Letting Rosy go was difficult, but I knew it had to be done. I just didn’t think it would cause me so much strife.
After leaving Rosy, I had decided to leave the country. I needed to be as far away from the memory of her, as possible.
So, I took Brazil by the balls.
My good pal Jonathan encouraged me to come to Brazil. I was hesitant since Jonathan was more rowdy, but he stressed how many beautiful women there were, so I flew over without a second thought.
It was hot and tropical. Tons of trees and exotic animals. I took shelter in a tiny house right off the beach, hoping to keep the familiarity of small spaces.
Much like the cabin in the woods.
I’d wake up every day at six o clock, then run two miles. After that, I’d take an ice cold shower, then chug down cucumber water.
I had hired a good chef to stay by the hour to serve me fresh meals, but it wasn’t the same.
Lucinda, the chef, was older and barely spoke a word of English. I had tried to learn a little Portuguese, but I realized it was pointless shortly after arriving – why bother? I was here to forget Rosy, and that was that.
Our conversations were short and only were about food. I obviously wasn’t fucking Lucinda. She wasn’t exactly my type. She was far too thin, and I could see fine lines settling in her old face.
I had learned after a couple of stilted conversations that she was in her early sixties, and had a huge family. A couple daughters and sons. Tons of grandchildren.
Children scared me, but I knew Rosy wanted them. After I remembered that, I couldn’t listen to Lucinda talk about her family anymore.
Everything reminded me of Rosy.
Especially the women I tried to fuck.
For some reason, the women in Brazil were either lean and muscular, or nice and plump.
I preferred plump. I liked having something to hold onto, and of course, jiggling hips and thighs reminded me of Rosy.
The first few girls were sexy, but that was all. They were sexy on the outside as they walked past me with their long hair waving in the tropical breeze. But when we spoke – or at least, when we tried to – I was left empty.
I went out with a few women. There was a girl with long dark hair and seductive eyes that obviously had a plan for trapping me. But it didn’t work: how could it, when this scheming whore was the farthest thing from who I really needed.
There were more girls, too. But they couldn’t replace Rosy in my heart. Whenever I went out with them, they’d inevitably try to fuck me. And I tried, a few times. But I couldn’t get hard for these girls. They were different.
They weren’t mine. They didn’t live to serve me.
When I came home one night from a date, all I could taste was Rosy’s sweet kiss, and feel the light touch of her soft hands. I wanted her badly.
Not just to fuck though. I wanted her company. I wanted to hear about her dreams and aspirations again.
The way she would rest her head on my chest haunted me. The rise and fall of her tits as she’d fall asleep. I was helpless when I thought of Rosy – just the mental image of her was enough to make me beg for more.
A part of me thought I was dreaming, but I knew it was just my reality. I could have been fucking the world’s most beautiful women in the world’s most beautiful country, but all I wanted was Rosy.
Before I could fall into complete despair once again, Lucinda knocked on my door to tell me dinner was ready.
I was positive it was late at night, but it turned out to only be five-thirty. I had been out cold since early yesterday. Lucinda told me she was worried I was getting sick.
I was sick, alright. Sick of wanting what I couldn’t have.
That night had been so brutal for me, but I had developed the nasty habit of doing whatever I could that could take away the thought of Rosy.
I’d drink all day, masturbate all night, and then repeat the process. Even Jonathan was surprised at my behavior. He tried to break me out of my habits, but I was as stubborn as a mule.
I thought long and hard about telling Jonathan about the crazy thoughts in my head, but I knew he would never understand.
Jonathan never had someone like Rosy. His world consisted of sweaty club walls and dark alley ways for quick fucks. He couldn’t fathom the softness in her brown eyes, the sweet bulging curve of her ass. He wouldn’t appreciate a girl like Rosy.
I always wanted more. Even though I dared not say to anymore.
Rosy was more.
I chugged vodka to forget her face. It wasn’t much of a help. It blurred that pretty face of hers, and mixed it with colors of my past. It was as if my curse was coming back to drown me in misery.
All the women I fucked and abandoned were showing up in my reality and nightmares. And after a while, the young, hot women in Brazil began to get on my nerves. At first I’d admired them as one would admire tropical birds in a zoo. They were different and bright and strange, nothing like Rosy’s sweet, trusting American naiveté.
And when they realized that I wasn’t out hunting for my next mistress, they scorned me.
It was just as well. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if I could have tolerated their behavior for long, anyway.
Rosy was it for me. One morning after coming home drunk, I collapsed on the beach with a beer bottle clinging to my hand. I fell in the sand, sliding onto my back.
It was cool from the few traces of yellow sunlight. As I closed my eyes, my lips twisted into a smile as I thought of Rosy’s body in bed. She’d always push the covers off and let the sunlight dapple her pale skin, stretching like a cat in the warm rays of the sun.
She was light. I was the obvious dark that ruined her. Without me, Rosy was likely doing much better. She was in school now, and she was smart so I knew she had to be doing well. But I was too selfish. I wanted her all to myself, even though I knew she was better off without me.
I was so drunk that I could hardly move. It was a new low for me, and as I lay in the sand, I wondered if death was near. My head were like it weighed a ton, and my legs were limp. I was freezing even though it was warm.
Everything hurt. My body hurt, my head hurt. Even my teeth ached.
What had happened to me? Who was I turning into?
“Rosy…” I murmured. I shook my head. I needed her name out of my head. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I sucked at the sour liquid and groaned as the warm beer spilled down my throat.
Rosy was sweet. She would never make me feel this way.
I closed my eyes and tried to drift off to sleep, but the waves crashed onto the shore, splashing my feet with cold water.
I sat up immediately and forced myself to open my eyes. I crawled up the beach, still clinging to my beer bottle. The tiny house was a few feet away, but the distance seemed like an ocean.
“Lucinda,” I barked in a hoarse voice. Sand burned my eyes as I hauled myself closer and closer to the small house. “Lucinda, I need help!”
“Lucinda!” I called again. I was now at the porch, gripping onto the wooden floor. My head was spinning, and I knew I was seconds away from vomiting.
“Mr. Steele?” The lights in the tiny house flicked on, and I saw Lucinda rush out through the sliding doors.
“I need...water…”
Lucinda ran back inside to grab a glass of water, then hurried back. She squatted by my side and patted my head in a maternal way that I hated.
I snatched the glass away and gulped it down. It felt like an iceberg on my dry throat. I could barely catch my breath as I lay panting on the ground.
“Co
me, inside,” Lucinda urged as she pulled me up. I was shocked at how much strength that old woman had. She pulled me into the living room, letting me fall onto the couch.
“Shit, you’re strong,” I mumbled as I still tried to catch my breath.
“Are you done drinking, Mr. Steele?”
I was paused as silence flooded through the house for a moment. She spoke...English?
“I thought you didn’t speak English?”
Lucinda snorted and turned on the stove.
“You don’t listen then.” She had a very thick accent, but her English was rather good. I smiled and stood up, staggering.
“So you must have heard my last night rants?” Every time I’d come in, drunk as shit, I’d collapse on the floor and demand water from Lucinda. But I’d always talk about Rosy.
I felt embarrassed. She must have thought I was an idiot.
“About the Rosy? Yes. Tragic.”
I fell quiet and walked over to the kitchen, sliding up on a counter.
“Sorry about that,” I mumbled.
“No apology needed. But you have no place here, Mr. Steele.”
I looked up quickly.
“What?”
Lucinda put her spoon down and looked me deep in the eyes.
“Brazil is not the wasteland of your sadness. You can’t escape what you are feeling. You need to fix it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave me a stern look.
Her advice stunned me. But if I didn’t stay in Brazil, I would be back in Las Vegas, even closer to Rosy.
“I can’t see her again…” My voice trailed off.
Lucinda rolled her eyes.
“Says who?”
Exhaling deeply, I slid off the counter and took a piece of strawberry from the fruit salad she was making.
“Me. I know myself, I know my faults, and I can’t go back. So that’s the end of that.” I started to walk away, but Lucinda grabbed my forearm.
“If you can’t go back, then why can’t you let her go? Go back The Grand. That’s where you belong.”
I sighed. She was right. I didn’t want her to be, but I knew being in Brazil wasn’t meant for me. The Grand was where I belonged.
I needed Rosy, but maybe if I threw myself into The Grand, I’d be too busy to even think about her.
That night, I booked a flight back to Las Vegas. I didn’t even sleep.
I packed all my things and waited for the car to arrive. Before I left, I wrote a thank you note for Lucinda and attached it to the refrigerator, along with a check for ten thousand dollars.
I was thankful for her humble advice.
It was time for me to go home.
***
“Welcome back, Mr. Steele! Looks like you’ve gotten a nice tan there!” Alicia, my assistant, exclaimed as I stepped out of my limo.
I nodded and tried to walk away from her, but she was persistent.
“Anything new?” I asked reluctantly. I didn’t want to actually know, but I knew I had no choice.
“Let’s see,” Alicia said as she looked down at her clipboard. “The renovations have been completed, and there a few advertising salesmen that would like to speak with you.”
“Okay.”
“There were also two guests that got food poisoning from the shrimp pasta dish, so we had it removed temporarily.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I hope the chef responsible was fired,” I snapped. “And make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Yes, of course,” Alicia replied quickly. She flushed. “It’s all been taken care of.”
I walked inside the doors and headed straight for my office.
“Oh! Mr. Steele!”
I stopped and turned around.
“Yes?”
Alicia hurried over and leaned into my ear.
“The private investigator you had asked for two months ago said he’d be coming in today.”
I paused as my heart raced. I couldn’t believe it.
A month after being away from Rosy, I had hired a Swedish private investigator, Elmer.
He was one of the best, and he promised the best results.
I requested for him to follow Rosy for the next couple of months. I wanted to be sure that she was settling in and doing well.
Elmer had told me it wouldn’t be an overnight thing, and I’d have to be patient. I was fine with that though.
Being in Brazil had made me forget all of this, but now that I was back I could hardly contain my excitement. It was pathetic: here I was, a grown man, acting like a love-struck kid just because I was going to hear details about Rosy.
“Did he give a specific time?” I asked anxiously.
Alicia shook her head.
“He said he doesn’t make appointments? I tried to reason with him, but he wasn’t buying it.”
I chuckled.
“That’s Elmer alright. It’s fine. Just let me know when he comes in.”
I walked back towards my office and shut the doors. I was relieved to finally have peace and quiet again. I’d forgotten all about the hustle and bustle of The Grand but it was time to immerse myself once more, if only for a while.
I took off my jacket and started to pour my energy into work when the phone rang.
I picked it up cautiously. Hardly anyone called me.
“Yes?”
“Steele.”
It was Elmer.
“Hello. I was informed that you’d be coming in today?” My lips curled into a predatory smile.
“Yes, I’ll be meeting with you to discuss what I’ve found, but not in The Grand.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. My office is very private.”
“It’s too open. Let’s just say, you’re not my only client…”
Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “You’re a pain in the ass,” I said. “And after all, I’m the one paying you!”
“I’ll have a car sent to you in thirty minutes. A black Escalade. It’ll take you to my private office.”
I started to say something, but Elmer immediately hung up the phone.
He was one of the most sought -after private investigators, and had gotten dirt on some big politicians.
Obviously there were tons of important people that wanted him gone, so his identity had to be concealed. Still, it was a goddamned pain. I was giving this man thousands and thousands of dollars to trail Rosy and he couldn’t even be bothered to meet me properly?
I waited thirty minutes before I heard a knock on my door.
“Come in.”
The Dirty Hotel King: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Page 19