Page 20 of For his Surrender

“So, is my age a problem for you?” I’m careful to sound slightly annoyed, but not too much.Submissive, I remind myself.

“Maybe problem isn’t the right word.But I can’t say I’m comfortable with that, Antonella. Over ten years of difference, damn...” I agree, because I need to pretend to be sweet and because I’m not a hypocrite.I understand his perspective.But I also think it’s a bit dramatic.

“It’s not like we’re talking about a real relationship, it’s just signatures on a piece of paper, Marcos…” And if your concern is about how it will affect your image, I want to tell you that it’s already charred enough that no one will even notice a new burn.

I keep this second part to myself.I swallow the sour words wanting to jump out of my throat, down my head, pretending a disappointment I don’t feel, and choose what to say next with all the care in the world...

“I understand.I never thought I would be suitable for what you really need...” Saying it takes a lot of effort and almost causes me a sudden illness.But I take a deep breath, keeping the character, testing the poor girl’s approach to defenselessness and lack of self-esteem.

"It’s not that..." He interrupts, and I gasp once more, representing.I fake a pain I don’t feel with his principle of rejection. “No, Antonella, that’s not what I meant…” He pauses, probably looking for words that don’t hurt me.Oh, poor Marcos!He has no idea. I take advantage of his clueless moment, not knowing what to do or say to keep eating, I’m taking the glass of juice to my mouth when he talks again. “You’re not inappropriate, it’s just... I was caught off guard...”

“I just hope you’re not kidding me, Marcos.As you’ve said... I don’t clean bathrooms for fun...” I regret it, with my head down “and although it was very difficult to make this decision, I... I...” I stop talking strategically and count to ten, letting the expectation grow “I think I could be play this role, you just need to let me try...”

He sighs. And, like the idiot he is, he says exactly what I knew he’d say.

“Alright. Did you read the contract?” Antonella 1, Asshole Marcos 0.

Fuck.

Antonella is twenty-one.A baby wife, and worst of all?My dick’s been hard for her ever since the fucking elevator doors opened.I had no intention of fucking her with my eyes, but damn!

Her image in the gray uniform was completely in the past when she appeared before me, displaying the fucking hottest curves she could have.

The slim jeans draw the thick thighs, tempting my mind to imagine them wrapped around my waist, and the thin red woven t-shirt displays the outline of the breasts, which look perfect for my hands.What the fuck is going on with me?

I’m not a degenerate, so why can’t I stop imagining the woman in front of me in the most diverse positions, naked, around me?

God, twenty-one years. Holy shit. How did I let this slide?

João Pedro’s voice rings in my ear saying a loudI told you so, despite the silence that screams in the room.Did she have to look so innocent?Fragile?To keep her head down constantly, fleeing from my gaze? And why the fuck do I care?I don’t need this.I don’t need a fucking twenty-one-year-old wife who probably won’t have the footwork to deal with the situations a Cinderella story will provoke.

All the journalists, all the sensational stories, Valente’s board refusing to believe in the seriousness of my marriage, the fact that the marriage is fake.This has everything to go wrong...

“You want to give up...” he whispers with his head down, correctly interpreting my silence.

“Antonella, it’s just...You’re twenty-one and I didn’t really expect it.I mean, you’ve barely come of age.Marriage should make me look more responsible and mature, and I fear that a marriage between the two of us will not have the credibility I need…” I ponder and keep to myself the part where, judging by my reaction to her, it would be a real torture to have to refrain from fucking my wife, which would be the most decent, since she is a baby. Fucking hell!

“I’m twenty-one, not sixteen, and I’ve lived longer than many of the porcelain women you often parade around with on magazine covers!” she challenges me, and I smile, for some reason I don’t know why, liking the version that confronts me much more than the one she hides from me.

But all I have is a glimpse, because two seconds later, she lowers her head and shrinks with shame, as if she had remembered that this behavior is not appropriate.Submissive, exactly the kind I could have to go through my single life, even though I was married, without causing me any problems. Then why does it bothers me so much?

“It’s different, this marriage isn’t going to be easy, and your young age is going to make it even harder for you…”

She raises her head and looks into my eyes, seems to decide whether to tell me something or not, she bites her lip, blinks and, finally, what comes out of her mouth is definitely not what I expected...

“I was fine, I had a plan and I was fine with it, you can’t just come along, mess it up, make me rethink the next ten years of my life and then give up just because you discovered something you should already know, in the first place, Marcos.That’s not fair!” Her voice oscillates between anger and self-control and, damn!

I’m much more tempted to take this whole story forward now than when I was devouring her curves and imagining my tongue strolling through each one of them.So I force myself into a completely opposite response to what my mind screams for me to give.

“I’m sorry, life isn’t fair.In case you haven’t noticed, I’m getting married under pressure from someone else, Antonella. How fair does that seem to you?It doesn’t seem like it at all to me...” and then it happens again.Her eyes scream her thoughts, and I smile, because at least they’re out of control. “I told you I was a son of a bitch, Antonella, that really shouldn’t surprise you.And the fact that you’re surprised just confirms that this whole thing was a big mistake...”

A sound of derision leaves her throat, she shakes her head to one side and to the other, disbelieving that I am really putting an end to everything so suddenly.But I can’t have a twenty-one-year-old wife, I just can’t.

Antonella opens her mouth and, against all my common sense, the expression on her face makes me anxious for her next words, she seems finally ready to show me something other than head and low eyes.

“You...” she begins, but is interrupted by some hard rock that I would never associate with the woman in front of me and makes me frown.Her face looks away from mine, looking for the bag on the stool beside her, and she pulls out the source of the unexpected music, a simple phone.Her eyebrows join as she looks at the screen and her fingers take the call with astonishing agility.

“Hello?” she says, still with her face being transformed by a worried expression. “What?!” she almost cries, jumping up, already taking the bag next to her and starting to walk in the direction from which we came, leaving me so stunned that it takes me a while to get up too and follow her.

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