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“Antonella...”
“Antonella? Do you really need that much a reason, Marcos? So what about these? First, you say you don’t want me, that I can’t fall in love with you, that you’re not a prince charming, that you’re not going to save me.And then all of a sudden, you change your mind about one of these things, how should I feel about the others, Marcos?How am I supposed to keep the lines clear when you start to mess them?”
Her words hit me like punches, and I find myself staggering back, fuck! No! I definitely don’t need my baby wife in love with me, and if the price for that is going to be having my balls purple for the next two years, fuck it, I’ll pay it.
Her cheeks are blushed, this time, I don’t know if out of embarrassment by the words she said, or out of indignation, her chest is puffed up and her lips shaky.And even though I have real disgust at everything she just said, it’s stronger than me, the memory of their taste fills my mouth with water.
Terrified is how Marcos looks at the simple prospect of me falling in love. So easy… I mean, I didn’t imagine he was going to put me up against the wall and say in all the letters that he wanted to fuck me.To say that I might end up falling in love wasn’t something planned, it was a desperate reaction that could both go right and wrong.Like when they throw something you weren’t expecting in your direction and yellthink fast, testing your motor coordination and ability to react quickly.
But it wasn’t in my plans to let myself be touched by him again in the first place.When I asked the concierge to let me know of his arrival, when I planted myself in front of the elevator, waiting for the doors to open, the plan was simple, I just wanted to confront him and regain my freedom to come and go around the house.For Isabella, for me.If all this shit has the sole purpose of giving us comfort, it doesn’t make any sense for me to sacrifice it to keep it.That would be much more than counterproductive!
The problem is that since the damn night of the ball it feels like a spell has been cast on my body, and when it comes to Marcos, it simply ignores my wishes.Not even the certainty that he fucked another one that very night was able to keep me immune to the need to be touched by him, and when his eyes slid down my body, I lit up.When they fixed on my lips, I salivated, when his mouth told me it wanted to kiss me, I yearned.
I needed something bigger than my no, something that would keep him away, no matter how overwhelming the need to be close becomes, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep saying no in the long run.And when I remembered his words the night he offered me the contract,I don’t need a wife to fuck!I also remembered what seemed to be his greatest fear at that time.
That I would fall in love, that I would mix up things.That’s not a risk, definitely not the slightest possibility that I would mistake Marcos for a prince charming and anyone who knows me would know that, but he doesn’t, he doesn’t know...
What if he knew, what if he knew, Antonella? Would you be more susceptible?Probably...If Marcos could be a one-night, two-night, or thirty-night stand, I would never have told him no the first time, but he is not. And the fact is, when he gets me naked, he’ll know exactly the woman he’s taking to bed.Marcos’ touch takes me off the ground, robs me of the ability to think, to speak, as was proved even on the fateful night of the event.
There’s no pretending.And how, afterwards, should I be able to explain that sweet, innocent, and even if not so submissive as that, yet submissive Antonella, does everything but submit in bed?It’s impossible… Marcos may be arrogant enough not to see what’s right in front of his nose, but he’s not dumb.
“All right…” he agrees, and my chest tightens, rebelling against the answer my mind wanted, but my body, not so much.
“About the honeymoon...” I begin the second topic we need to talk about, and Marcos raises a single eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Marcos...”
“That’s not negotiable, Antonella.”
“Marcos…”
“No!” he declares, without making room for discussion. “You want me to fuck other women?That’s the irony of the century, but okay!It’s your choice, and I’m going to make sure it gets very well taken care of during our wedding night, but it’s going to happen, and nothing you say is going to change that!”
I blink, so stunned by his words that I don’t even have to fake my shocked reaction.
“Just in case my scandalous eyes aren’t telling you this right now, you’re a fucking asshole!” I shout with a clear conscience because Isabella is far away, sleeping, upstairs.Marcos laughs falsely, and I deny it with my head, because in a few weeks I can tell that this is just his angry reaction.Marcos is a child who doesn’t know how to listen no.When upset, he throws tantrums.
My whole body trembles with anger.Fuck, how I want to tell him to go fuck himself, how I want to tell him that, at that moment, I would be able to fuck São Paulo in its entirety, before opening my legs to him, damn it!I take a deep breath, controlling my breathing, swallowing the words that fight in my throat, wanting, anxiously, to jump out of my mouth.
“I was going to say, Marcos” his name comes out of my mouth in a growl “that it’s a week before the wedding and I still haven’t found a reliable babysitter and so the honeymoon is not a good idea.”
It’s his turn to take a deep breath.Marcos runs his hands over his face and leaves them over his eyes for almost a whole minute, when he lowers them, he tilts his head to the side, watching me.
“What about the cook’s plan?”
“What?”
“Carmen told me that if you didn’t find a nanny, you would start looking for a cook, and she would take over as Isabella’s nanny.”
I open my mouth, but I close it, because I didn’t count on it.I didn’t imagine Carmen had told him that.Marcos narrows his eyes at me and shakes his head denying, then moves a few steps away, takes the briefcase that has been lying on the floor practically since the moment it arrived, and walks by me.
“Hire a cook, Antonella.” It’s his goodbye.
?
“He said what?” Grazi shouts from the other end of the line as soon as I finish telling her about the discussion with Marcos earlier in the evening. “Nel, you really need to stop kissing this guy!” grunts.
“I didn’t!”
“But you let him fucking touch you!You’re not a fucking pool of hormones! Do what you have to do. If you have to have sex with someone else, with others, so be it. Do it! But this guy is the greatest son of a bitch I’ve ever heard of, and you’re about to marry him, so either you start thinking with your head up full time, or things are going to get very complicated.”
