by Kris Buendía
But the answer is so obvious that I do not want to accept it.
I have a fantasy with him, if not many. I like him, he attracts me a lot.
I always liked the way Mona talked about him, in the professional way. She left a doubt in me to know if everything they said was real, a dark man, of which nobody knows absolutely anything else but being the CEO of the company and who has many mil ions, also some gossip and his next conquest.
None of that mattered to me and when I had him close I knew it.
Actual y, I liked him, not just the idea, but him.
And the crazy idea of knowing that I am so out of his league that I even running I do not reach him.
He is an impossible man, and since I know that, I know that I wil never dress like this and that he wil not recognise me later, I accept it. I accept my free night, in which it did not come in the package, but I do not complain. I thought al my woman senses were dead, but Gideon in a second has awakened them.
It is not about love. I am aware that this may not exist in his life or mine. It tel s me the way he looks at others and the things that surround him, the tone of his eyes tel s me.
He tel s me himself.
The elevator doors open. I realise that we are already at the entrance of his apartment or house. I do not know, this already looks like a mansion. The floor shines, the wal s are white and the furs on the furniture are brown and I can also see al kinds of classic paintings in its bone-coloured wal s.
There is a soft music in the background. It is like when you enter a luxurious restaurant, but better.
“Do you live here?” I ask amazed. The place is amazing, modern and minimalist.
“Let's start with you being confident with me.”
He asks me, takes my hand without my consent or even wait for it and takes me further to the back of the apartment. We arrive at what seems to be the kitchen and put aside one of the benches for me to seat down, while he, I think he wil serve our drinks.
“I do not think that that can happen, Mr.
Graysson.”
He looks at me in a bad way.
“With or without gas?” He refers to water.
“Without.”
Serve my water in a thin and fat glass. Then, he pours himself a beer and sits in front of me. His determinate gaze continuous to scrutinise me from head to toe. In this clearer light I can see him better.
More beautiful than ever and more dangerous, as an unattainable dream that we do not want to wake up and in spite of being so scared, it captivates us.
The way he looks me, chal enges me and at the same time it is making me nervous. And even if I do not show it, I could swear that he has noticed.
“What is your name?”
For him to ask me again the same question, confuses me. Unless he is referring to my ful name.
“I did not know we would start an interrogation.”
He places the bottle in front of him and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He wil not leave her alone.
“Your name?” I ask.
“Stop treating me. You are in my house. I am the boss here.”
I swal ow dry. Here is him who dominates and subdues. That is probably what he does with al the women who come here. Paris for example.
“Does Paris tel you the same thing?”
It is too late when I realise that I should not let go that. He frowns, analysing my words.
“Paris is a friend.”
“You do not have to explain to me.”
I have started talking to him as he likes. If I continue doing it, maybe he wil let me go, or I have provoked more of the wolf inside him.
“I know, but his question makes me think he knows more than I thought. And not only me. Are you sure you do not work for me?”
“Everybody knows Paris Bagott. And no, I do not work for Graysson Publicity.”
“What is your name?” He repeats the question and it does not fil me with victory for having managed to repeat himself. On the contrary, now I know that he wil not leave me alone until he knows everything he wants from me. And from what I see and I realise, I can lie and he will not even know or remember.
“Cinder Mattis.”
I take a sip of the glass of water and then put it back in front of him.
“You said your name was El a.”
“And so it is. Your turn.”
His penetrating gaze does not change. In his head must be thinking al kinds of things. Like, for example, my name and what it can mean tonight.
“Gideon Graysson.”
Is that al ? He will not tel me anything else.
And instead, he continue with more questions:
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Have you meet someone?”
“No.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
How quickly I answered his questions scares me. This man can control me and do with me whatever he wants and I wil al ow it happily.
Because I know that the only one who wil enjoy to disappear tonight, is me. And he wil never see me again.
He finishes his beer and throws the empty bottle into the sink. My heart is going to come out of my chest when I see that he surrounds the island and places in front of me. Approaching the bench with me stil on it.
I have no escape. And although he says that Paris and him are friends, I am sure that in the twisted head of my stepsister is not the same.
“I need...I implore you to stay with me tonight.”
My heart stops beating. The world stops and my legs begin to tremble. I do not know what kind of request is that. Or what kind of woman thinks I am.
“I can not do that, I do not even know you.”
I reject him and I notice the first new expression of him. He seems disappointed. And although the proposal is not decent, it is tempting.
“Gideon Graysson, I am thirty years old, I am...”
“Stop” I stop him putting my hand in his chest to push him away and I realise that his heart is beating fast enough. Like mine. One again, the electricity, the irreparable sensation caused by touching him, takes over my senses.
It is when he attacks my lips.
Without frenzy, as if there was no tomorrow and as if he was waiting a lifetime to do it.
like me.
My fantasies with him had nothing to do with being dressed as a sweet and sensual princess. In the wolf house. Because this man is far from being a prince to me. He has not come to rescue me and I know that I did not come to him either, even though we are tormented by different things.
I have lied to him.
He has proposed something to me that I am not not sure if I can refuse.
But, what I am sure of is that whatever decision I make, I wil regret it.
A mental slap brings me to reality and I set it aside.
“You taste delicious, El a Mattis” He hisses with the eyes stil closed.
“I...”
He sticks his forehead to mine and sticks those piercing blue eyes into mine. Kissing him felt better than I ever imagined.
“Stay.”
“I can not.” I reject him with a thread of voice.
“Why not? I can see in your eyes that you want it as much as I do. Whoever you are, tel me, why can not you give me one night?”
Then I remember his words. Which pronounced sharply when we were on the terrace.
“Because you said that no woman overcomes one night with you. That you leave them wanting more and I... I know I wil want more. I lied to you.
No woman could, not even me. I lied to you again, I know who you are but you wil never know who I am.”
The intense blue of his eyes changes for everything I tel him. Involving me with him can be dangerous. It is always. And if Paris finds out, she wil not leave alone.
Either him.
“You do not need reasons to stay, El a. Just stay and do not think about it. Do what your body feels. I know you
want me as I want you.”
This is crazy.
He does not know who I am. Unless that girl in dirty overal s and the one who served his coffee, he has recognised them as one.
Me.
But if so, he would have said so. My mind and my heart do not agree for the first time. There is an internal struggle to stay or leave. If I stay and disappear in the middle of the night he wil look for me and then I wil know if he real y knows who I am. And if I leave, this night wil be forgotten as wel as the bottle he threw inti the void. He wil also look for me.
But not the girl in overal s, or the one who served his one-hundred-dol ar coffee.
He wil look for the elegant woman who had her first free night.
I take my bag that is stil on the hal . And I run away from his presence.
I did not go far when he stops me grabbing my wrist.
“El a.”
We stare at each other a few more seconds, until he realises my hand without being asked. I do not like what see in his eyes. This simple gesture, not cold, makes my chest hurt. And I thank him for letting me go, for not forcing me to do anything that I do not want. He is a gentleman although he says otherwise.
It should not hurt.
I should not feel what I am feeling, either him.
It is crazy because we are two strangers.
“Goodbye, Gideon.”
Gideon
When I let go of her and heard the door close, I felt something in my hand. Something smal , metal ic and cold.
A medal or kind of pendant.
A high-heel shoe.
I hold it in the centre of my hand and I wonder how it got there. Then, an idiotic smile threatens to peek at me by remembering her name and what she has dropped by accident wil know God from where.
Cinder El a Mattis.
A heel-shaped shoe.
The first night I had ever asked a woman to stay and on top of that, rejected me. I could not take me eyes off her since I saw her dance with her friends. I had to fol ow her as if I were stalking my prey. I had to know what was special about her to get my attention.
Her smile.
Her hair.
Her body.
Alcohol is the only thing that wil relieve me.
It always does.
I should stop drinking, but like any addict, I always have an excuse. And that excuse has a name and a surname, also carries my own blood.
I leave the medal on the table in the hal , I wil leave it there as a symbol of my own madness and the memory that the most beautiful woman I have ever seen has rejected me.
I am taking off my clothes heading to my office.
I knew that going to that fucking party would have consequences, that is why I never go.
I do not like to be surrounded of alcohol and not drink in front of people.
Once I start I can not stop and I know very wel why I do not want to accept it. Not that anyone cares a shit, not even me.
I go to the liquor shelf and I pour myself one last drink.
I promise it wil be the last, at least tonight.
That it is the same thing I say to myself over and over again.
I seat down at the computer and type in her name to find something of her. Whatever, but it is in vain.
There is no El a Mattis in the world of model ing. She is too good and beautiful to belong to a world like that. Whoever she is, I will find out sooner or later.
“I need you to find everything you can about Cinder El a Mattis” In my mind I only have the image of her ass in that silk dress.
“I thought you would not require my services in that way.”
Sharp is my security agent. Who is aware of everything in my companies and my other life in England. He is a damn hawk’s eye and I know he wil find everything about her.
“You know I would not ask you if it was not important.”
“Al right, I wil see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Sharp.”
I need to have her. At least one night, an instant, it does not matter where. I wil do it so hard that she wil not have the slightest doubt that I get what I want.
And I want her.
Damn to her without knowing who she is, I do not care. I am a fucking crazy son of a bitch that can have any woman. But not al of them dazzle me, almost none.
Until I saw her.
I have never been so captivated by a woman's eyes as hers.
El a. El a. El a.
I can stil feel the taste of her kisses, remembering that, makes my member jumps in suspicion.
That is not what I expected.
Her fucking words have pissed me off. She dared leave me. I do not blame her. She will suffer if she is not astute.
The worst that can happen is that she fal in love with me.
My eyes itch. I see my drink and I leave it there. Enough for tonight. I go to my room with the same thought and desire of every night.
Never wake up.
I wake up sweaty, my heart beating a thousand beats per minute and my chest heaving. Always the same nightmares.
Always the same reaction. That is why I never sleep with a woman. She would ask questions which I wil not be willing to answer. Or worse, she would run away.
«Cinder did not need to see it to do it» I say to myself. And I curse myself at the same time because without having had her, she is beginning to fuck my mind.
The nightmares are the same.
Death.
Loneliness.
Darkness.
Empty.
I rub my eyes with the back of my hand and let myself fal of backwards. I close my eyes control ing the desire not to go for another drink until get drunk again.
7
I can not believe what I did last night. I do not know what I was thinking when I let him kiss me. I do not know what I was thinking to get into his car in the first place.
Al I know is that I look like an idiot smiling to myself.
While I clean the floors of Graysson Publicity, the memory of last night makes it more dangerous.
I have even decided to use a stupid beret to hide my hair and go unnoticed. Although I have been cleaning on the top floor for the last few hours, I have not met anyone in the hal ways.
I delight in admiring some works of art on the wal . As I also see through the glass the design studio.
Large white desks and folios.Unpainted canvases and al kinds of colour palettes. On the wal s some sketches of what appears to be old campaigns.
—It is what would have to be doing—Say in high voice. When I listen steps from the corridor and alarm me. This time there is not by where can hide me since it is a corridor that only has an exit.
»It can not be him« I tel myself to force my legs to move. I wear a ridiculous beret and more than disguise, could get someone's attention. I have no choice but to leave here as soon as possible. I do not listen to the steps anymore, just a few murmurs from some offices.
As soon as I walk faster, I find myself face to face with Gideon.
»What the hel !«
I looks down for fear he will recognise me.
Again, I step aside to let him pass, but he does not move. I should be fired, it is the second time I am not only with the staff, but the bog boss in the corridors when it is highly forbidden.
As Gideon does not move, then I do it. When taking a step forward, he takes me by the arm.
“Wait” Listening to that accent, plus the heaviness of his voice does not help at al . Much less if he is touching me. I know very wel what he causes me when that happens.
I do not see him in the eyes. But I can feel that he is looking at me from head to toe, scrutinising with his eyes as if he had the right.
“Sir?” I say softly so he can't not recognise me.
When I think he wil stay like this forever, he lets go of me. And I do not expect it when he says:
“Sorry.”
He leaves his aroma in the air. And he walks away. When I look up, he has disappeared, agai
n, like the first time. I wil have to make up an excuse not to clean this floor. But I can not take that risk.
He will not forgive me and I wil not be able to bear to see him.
I do not know what is happening to me. It is impossible that someone like him can notice someone like me. The real me. Men like him, deserve something more.
…
I have been the last two hours explaining to Mona what happened at the party and afterwards. Her face of astonishment hurts and frightens me at the same time. My best friend is more excited that me. I can not believe it.
“Oh my God, Cinder. I never imagined that would happened. It is like a dream come true for you. Did you like it?”
I put my eye white.
“In my dreams. The ones very, very far from reality. I liked to see his photos, hear you talk about him and that is al . I was always realistic that I would not even cross in front of him and now, we have kissed! He asked me one night and I…fuck... “
“You had to say yes. I think that is what you need to forget that boy.” She says, placing her fingers in her mouth. “Tob…, Thomas. That’s right.
The boy Thomas. The one who told that he loved you before he died and I am so sorry, Cinder, but you do not have to keep carrying that memory. It has nothing to do with you.”
I look at my friend and I feel like crying. I do not know how long I can take it. I said that one day I would tel her the truth. And I am pretty sure that day has arrived.
“Or it does?” She asks the question with fear.
“Cinder, you are scaring me.”
“I did not kil him if that is what you think. But I was there... And also nail and grime.”
Mona stops writing on her laptop and returns to the couch. It is incredible that I can hide here in her office without them noticing. It is the only good thing and what makes it more bearable.
“Explain yourself. You told me it was an accident and the last thing I remember is that you were not exactly with him when it happened.”
“I was with him, on the terrace of his house.
There was a party that night and Paris forced me to go because...”
“Thomas was hers.” She concludes.
“Not precisely. But she was obsessed with him.
Everything happened so fast and the railing fel with… with him.”
I have a stomachache. I have not talked about this with anyone in years. In fact, I never did it.