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“Of course I care. That was before…”
“Before what?” she interrupts me, and the challenge in citing the honeymoon is clear in his voice.
“Before I met you, Antonella.Before I knew how such an interview could affect you.” I give her an answer as honest as saying that that was before having sex with her would have been. “Because it’s true, I do care, and the fact is I started caring before I touched you, and, by the way, I’m dying to do it again.”
“This can’t affect me in any way, Marcos...My parents lost that power a long time ago.” I shake my head, agreeing, even if I don’t believe it.
Not after seeing how she reacted to their presence at our wedding.Regardless of what the feelings evoked by her parents are, they invoke something.But I’m not telling her that.
“Have they announced already? You know… If you will be the successor?” She changes the subject, as always, very good at running away from what makes her uncomfortable.
“In fact, I was expecting they would announce that I wouldn’t be.But not anymore… They’ll probably make it official at the next board meeting.” Antonella raises her glass in a lonely toast and smiles, but it’s not a broad smile like it usually is.
“You’ll figure it out,Ella... Whatever the solution to Isabella... You will find it…”
“Yeah... And now I also need to organize a party at an amusement park” she says, and this time the smile on her face is huge.
“She made a crying face,” I defend myself.
“And what do we do from now on when Isabella makes a crying face, Marcos?”
“We ask you...” Antonella makes two touches with her finger bones on the wood, in approval.
“I told you’re a fast learner!” she laughs, repeating what she said to me during our trip, and I narrow my eyes to her.
“Speaking of learning...We need to learn some things and combine others for the interview.”
“That makes sense.” She gestures. “Will they email the questions?” Takes the last sip of her juice and leave the empty glass on the countertop.
“They will. I’ll forward you as soon as I get it, but maybe we should talk about the answers instead of just writing and swapping papers, don’t you think?” Only one of your her eyebrows raises.
“Really? Why?”
“I don’t know... To make it more natural?”
“Yea... You’re gonna have to do better than that.”
“What? What do you mean better? It’s not like I have ulterior motives for wanting to spend some time alone with my wife…” All right, I do, and the crooked smile on my lips probably denounces me, because it’s her turn to narrow her eyes.But, fuck!It is not possible that this thought does not crosses her mind once when it is almost all I have been able to think about all day.
“And who said anything about spending time alone, Marcos?” She brings her face closer to mine and narrow her eyes.
“One can dream, right?” The answer comes low out of my lips.Her approach was unpretentious, but with her so close, it’s impossible not to go beyond just focusing on her voice.It is impossible not to follow the movement of her lips and feel my mouth salivate over her taste.
My eyes betray me, go down her lips, recognizing the prolonged movement of her throat as she swallows, anxious, and keep going further and further south where they find her breasts, covered with lace and so, but so inviting, that my fingers itch to touch them.
I look up, but I can’t find Antonella’s who is also lost, going through my body.If finding me here, she didn’t have a big reaction to my little amount of clothing, now, her body tells another story.
She licks her lips as her eyes get lost down my bare chest and bites them as they reach the rubber band of my shorts. The air around us becomes heavy and so does my breathing.
“Okay, time to go!” she says, as if she needed to stimulate herself and gets up abruptly. In a surprising economy of movement, returns the jar of juice to the refrigerator and leaves the glass on the sink countertop.
“Running away, Antonella?” I ask with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow.
“Definitely!” she replies with all the letters and no shame before turning around, turning her back on me and already walking out of the room.
“Running away is not a good strategy.” She’s almost at the door of the room, turns her face and, looking at me over her shoulder, smiles.
“Dom João[4]would disagree.” Leaves me behind without any regret. I follow the tasty sway of her hips and laugh. This woman is trouble, I know that, and I can’t stop myself from liking her.
