Page 2 of For his Surrender


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“Mom...” It’s a request, a plea, it’s me begging...

“A Machado Rodrigues doesn’t get pregnant at seventeen, Antonella!”

“It might be a little late for that, Mom. What you’re suggesting...”

A sneering sound leaves her mouth.

“Do you really think you were the first reckless heiress who opened her legs irresponsibly? Antonella, don’t be even more stupid than you once were!”

I grab the counter in front of me until my knuckles turn white, feeling suddenly dizzy from the words thrown at me.She can’t have said what I think she just said.

“You are no longer a child, you understand that attitudes have consequences, and I truly hope, Antonella, that this will be the last time we deal with that kind of consequence! And make that disappear!” She gives the order pointing to the pharmacy tests and turns to leave the bathroom.

“What if I don’t want to? What if I don’t accept that kind of consequence?” I ask as tears wet my skin.My voice comes out trembling, contaminated by an immense mixture of feelings: disappointment, frustration, horror and fear, much fear, but small, almost invisible, there is a spark of hope, of unbelief that my mother will actually subject me to something like this against my will.

She was never the nicest or most caring, but she’s still my mom.She always seemed more interested in how my image would affect hers than my well-being or happiness, but she’s still my mother.She underwent years of cheating by my father and marital unhappiness so that, outside the gates of the Machado Rodrigues mansion, newspapers and magazines would continue to paint our beautiful picture of a happy family.But she’s still my mother, right?

Rosana Machado Rodrigues stops, already with her hand on the knob, and does not even turn to witness my tears when answering me.

“A Machado Rodrigues doesn’t get pregnant at seventeen, Antonella.” With that said, she walks out the door, leaving me completely alone with a choice, or at least with the shadow of it, after all, a Machado Rodrigues doesn’t get pregnant at seventeen.

“I need a wife,” I say to the woman sitting before me in my apartment office.

The round-cheeked, thin-chinned face stares at me with slightly parted lips.Dark brown eyes widen at the same time as the thick eyebrows come together.I let my eyes glide down the body practically swallowed by the wide, gray clothes and the movement tells me absolutely nothing about what is hidden there.God, that’s a lousy uniform.

If I had any doubts about how it was possible that I never acknowledged her presence in my house until last week, when I found out that she’s been working for me for eight months, I don’t anymore.This uniform is definitely the culprit.It would be able to make invisible even the most beautiful of women.

“I’m being fired, is that it? Will your wife bring her own cleaning crew?” she asks through dilated pupils, and I can almost see her brain plotting a million plans behind her lids.I tilt my head to the side, studying her gaze that, although surprised, shows no fear.

Her whole posture went from worried, I believe at being summoned to a meeting with me, to determined.Her suddenly erect shoulders, her back away from the back of her armchair, and her low voice tell me that her job is important to her.As important as I imagined it would be to make a proposal like these. Ok, great!

The goddamn board will see! If they want me to have a wife so badly, I will.

“No, Antonella...You’re being promoted, if you accept my offer, of course.”

“Promoted?” She frowns, forming a crease on her forehead, and again, her face undergoes a change.If there was determination shown on it, now there is confusion.I can’t help but smile, I just satisfy myself with limiting the smile to the corner of my lips.So innocent... Definitely exactly the kind of woman I need to solve my problem.

An image of my best friend assaults my mind, he has a mocking look and a raised eyebrow, silently judging me, for after having criticized him so much for engaging in a contract relationship, being about to do the same.The Marcos of my head raises his middle finger to the imaginary João Pedro without any ceremony.

It is not the same.João Pedro did all this shit of his own free will and still managed to fall in love in the process.The son of a bitch is on his fucking honeymoon! On honeymoon! Definitely not going to happen here!

Yes, you keep practicing, because as soon as João Pedro arrives, you will need to have this conversation with him.We know he’s not gonna let this go for free, not after the huge shit you did...He may have forgiven you, but a son of a bitch is a son of a bitch!And everybody knows you two are great motherfuckers!

My subconscious rubs it in my face, and I snort.

Antonella raises a single eyebrow in a silent question, and I drag myself out of my thoughts, forcing myself to focus on the present.Because even though I’m sure she’ll accept my offer, I need to do it right. That’s important.

I could look for someone else, but I don’t want to.The whole point of asking my maid on marriage is to make it easy and, on top of that, send a very clear message.I’m in charge of my life!

I smile. Not just any smile, but one that affects women.The crease on Antonella’s forehead becomes even deeper, making it clear how far she is from understanding what I am asking here.

“Antonella…” I say her name slowly and she tilts her head to the side and for the first time I really pay attention to her eyes.They’re dark, brown, a few shades more than her hair.The black pupils stand out amid the color that does not seem to be decided between caramel and chocolate.She clears her throat, and I want to kick myself.What the hell?My concentration seems to have decided to take a break today.

I imitate her gesture and the sound that comes out of my mouth fills the office around us.

“I want to marry you, Antonella... More specifically, in forty-two days.”

She chokes on her own saliva and has a coughing fit.I get up from my chair, walk around the table and stop beside her.I support one of my hands on her back and the other on her face.I slide my hand slowly across her body as I lift her face so she has an easier time breathing right.

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