This woman is my property and will be treated as such.
Arriving at the building, I stop in one of the empty parking spaces, occupied only by the cars that belong to me. I see in the rearview mirror that the night security guard comes straight to meet me.
Efficient.
I watch Angelique, waiting for her to wake up, but her heavy breathing indicates that she won't wake up before dawn. This evening was eventful, full of surprises for both of us. Normally, I like to have absolute control over everything around me. From the amount of water that comes out of the tap when I wash my face in the morning, to the alignment of the sheet when I lie down to sleep.
Everything goes through me. Everything is before my eyes.
Except her.
Angelic Silver Donneli... what am I going to do with you?
I get out of the car, wave to the security guard and walk to the other side. I carefully open Angelic's door so she doesn't crash to the ground. I reach down, wrap my arms around her legs and back, and lift her up.
"Close the door," I order James, the security guard.
– Sir – he approaches – I can take you to the penthouse.
I admit, it takes me a few seconds to understand what this man means. But once I understand, I almost want to laugh.
I stare at James long enough to make him uncomfortable, until I look down at his own shoes.
"Close the door", I repeat.
- Of course sir.
While he takes care of the car, I head for the elevator. Angelic's face now rests on my chest, and I wonder how heavy his sleep is. It's the only thing I didn't know about her, until then. I had all her information, even the minute details, but I never knew she was sleeping like a rock.
In fact, I've never heard of sleep from the women I've been with. Whether it's a job or a partner in bed. I have never been so close to the soul of a human being.
Angelique is a woman used to nothing. She lost her mother even before she was a teenager. Thereafter, he abandoned himself completely to the family, in search of the slightest crumb of affection. She did everything her father wanted her to do. She honored the family name as if her life depended on it.
Now I'm almost afraid to approach him. I'm almost afraid to sleep with her. I almost feel like I'm taking advantage of its fragility.
But that shit is silly, isn't it? She's an adult and she knows what she's doing.
However...
Every time I touch her, every time I see in her eyes how much she wants me, every time we're on fire together...I just want to stop, hug her and tell her she's not don't have to do that to get my attention. .
Shit. I know I know. I look ridiculous.
Weeks ago, I wanted to put you to sleep like a righteous man, and now I worry about your feelings. However, how could it be otherwise? I have never had sex with feelings. I never approached a woman with the intention of knowing more than her name. With Angelique, I feel softened. I feel like I have to – and want to – take it slow.
I have nothing to do. My mind is judging me now, saying I'm a hypocrite. But again, shit. I will not take advantage of Angelique. I'm not going to take her to bed if I'm not sure she wants to. I will not use your poverty to satisfy my desires.
And when I talk about feelings, I don't mean that I love him. I want to say that I sympathize with her. I see her as a human being, not a target, and not a bunch of diamonds. I don't just see your body as a shag. I see her. Indicate. That's the kind of feeling I'm talking about: empathy.
And this is new to me. I remember the last time I felt empathy for someone. I was eight years old, in an overcrowded orphanage, and shared a bed with another child. Since... let's say empathy has had little to do with my way of life.
Arriving at the penthouse, I walk through the dark surroundings to the master bedroom. I lie down Angelique in the middle of the bed and I try to remove her heels.
Moonlight seeps in through the windows and bathes her body in a bluish hue. And after so many days of sleeping in this bed, hating this noisy city and the number of people, it's a good show. Something to remind me that flowers grow in any type of landfill.
I lower my heels and walk away looking at her like Michelangelo looked at The Creation of Adam after painting it. I observe and absorb its exquisite features.
When I bought it this morning, I didn't think exactly what I was going to get. I didn't wonder if she would stay in this apartment, in this room, in this bed. And again I wonder what is happening to me. Impulsivity is not part of my traits. I even count my steps, and now... I bought a wife. It's simple.
Hell!
I shake my head. Discredited myself.
I walk to the window and close the curtains. When darkness completely fills the room, I leave, closing the door and letting Angelic sleep as he deserves.
I walk to my office. I admit that his presence takes me out of my comfort zone. I bought an entire building so I wouldn't have any neighbors. I live on the top floor so I don't suffer from traffic noise. I have never slept with a woman. Not because I didn't like the idea of sleeping with them, but because I couldn't stand the idea of waking up with them. This is why many men prefer to pay for sex; so you don't have to worry about what happens next.
I walk into the office and sink into the chair. I have to organize myself for the next works. Giving up Margot's service doesn't mean I've given up my career.
The next job will be in Colombia, the birthplace of well-produced cocaine. A drug dealer who hasn't made his paycheck will be the target this time.
Good. I need to return to the center of my universe; the place where I can control my life down to the smallest detail. The place where I don't allow anyone else to reach me.
I hear a distinct cell phone ring and look at mine in my pants pocket. Is not. My confusion only lasts for a second before I remember I'm not alone. I get up and walk towards the bedroom. Sure enough, it's Angelic's cell phone that receives a call.
I enter the room. I have to look again and again until I find the cell phone inside the neckline of her dress, between her breasts.
That cell phone wasn't there. I know because my hands were.
I approach, not wanting to abuse his recklessness, and pick up the cell phone. Caller ID indicates it was a call from his father, Elliot Donneli. I refuse.
I leave the room again, this time taking the camera with me. I don't want to risk waking her up. But before even arriving at the office, Elliot calls back.
The instinct to protect overwhelms me – because I want to know what he would have to do with Angelic, since he sold her without any remorse – and I find myself answering the call as I walk into the office, closing the door behind me.
- Angel ? – Elliot is calling – Angelique?
– Mr President – greetings.
There is a brief silence.
– Oh – he babbles – She's with you.
- Permanently.
- I... - I could tell there's regret in his speech, that Elliot is going to back down and walk away from our deal. I almost want him to do it, to prove to me that the people around Angelic aren't so miserable. However, no. Elliot is a money rat – I don't know if our deal was really worth anything.
His words filter through my head like music. All the people who know me, who know what I do, dare not provoke me. But, I admit, I was praying some motherfucker would dare.
Elliot continues, and I listen intently.
– We have not signed a contract. You gave me the money, taking my word for it. Angelic is with you, but with one phone call I could tear down that little castle you've built. She would come home, we would have her money, and as a gift, we would go after those beautiful diamonds.
I head for the bay window. As I watch New York unfold at my feet, a slight smile fills my mouth. Elliot doesn't know it, but he just made my evening more interesting. Maybe every Donneli has that gift.
- Mr. Donneli – I whisper, low and calm – I appreciate your courage, but I don't need to remind you who is on the other end of the line.
I pause, in case he has something to say. There's no.
"The Bronx factory fire five years ago. You looked through the security cameras, right? You wanted to get rid of the evidence. But you never found the footage, I mumble.
Something about me is that I always have a trick up my sleeve. I am never surprised in business. I am never deceived. My game formation is always offensive, otherwise people like Elliot think they can go against each other.
- You're bluffing! - he accuses.
- Don't test me. If I'm very patient, I'll give these tapes to the detective who's chasing you – I say – But if I decide not to be patient… – I pause, making sure he hears my next words. Her breathing, suddenly quickened, indicates that Elliot is aware of what I'm saying – I'm going to your house, I'm going to blow your head off with a bullet, and then I'm going to put these tapes inside. You understood me?
The line remains silent for several seconds. If I had a little more courage, Elliot would hang up on me. But he doesn't. In fact, I don't know anyone who has.
- You understood me? - I repeat.
- Yeah.
– You sold me your daughter, voluntarily. Do not contact again. You sold that right too - that said, I'm hanging up.
Would Angelique be very upset if I got rid of her cell phone?
Whore.
I throw the device in the trash can next to the table.
I stare at the city for a second longer, then I hear a noise coming from the door. A hiccup. I turn to the office entrance and find Angelic standing there. Her face was flushed and her eyes watery.
The feeling of foreboding is unfamiliar to me, however, I find myself static. I watch her reaction with some nervousness, unsure of what she's going to do.
"What… what does that mean?" – she stammers – You bought me? His voice is low and garbled.
I take a step forward and she takes a step back.
I could say I can explain, but damn, I can't. That's exactly it, and there are no words to tell the truth. Her father sold her. "What could I do?" Leave her in this house with her worthy father and her exemplary mother-in-law?
"Angel…" she cuts me off.
- Answer me! – she asks. Tears escape from his eyes and slide down the skin of his face, swollen with sleep.
I remain silent. Verbalizing will be even more painful for her.
Angela nods her head in understanding. She passes a hand on her cheeks, abruptly, then turns around and walks towards the living room.
“Angelique,” I say.
I don't expect her to be rational. In fact, I think I'll give you the space to understand that I did my best given the situation. However, when I hear the noise of the elevator being activated, I know that she does not have the same plans as me.
I stride out of the office, practically running towards the living room. When I arrive, the elevator doors are already closing.
Damn!
I run to the kitchen, where the emergency exit door is. I unlock the door – which has never been used before – and descend the fire escape, skipping floors to keep up with the speed of the elevator.
If she leaves the building, I'll have to comb through this town to find her.
I go down the last flight of stairs and push open the downstairs door. I go to the reception of the building and approach the counter. I look on the street and can't find the taxi which is usually across the street. Angelic wouldn't walk barefoot on the streets of New York.
- Has anyone left the building? – I ask the attendant.
- Yes sir. The cleaning crew – responds. I raise an eyebrow. I wouldn't go down to reception to ask about the cleaning crew - oh yeah. A blond girl has just taken the taxi.
Shit.
- Right.
I turn away from the counter and head for the elevators.
I tried, I really tried, to stop him while I was still in the building. We could talk, and then she would understand that I didn't buy it on a whim. But shit. Angelic chose to piss me off. However, unfortunately for you, there is still no one under this sky able to hide from me.
I take my cell phone out of my pocket and dial the number I already have in mind. I type the penthouse code into the elevator panel waiting for someone to answer me, which happens in five seconds.
- What do you need? Captain Jason asks.
Since my last visit, I decided I needed Jason closer, so I made a generous donation to the cancer hospital. Now your daughter is treated with the highest technology. So when I call, he knows how to answer better.
– Mobilize your cops. I need Angelic Silver Donneli's location - I'll let you know.
I hear springs on the other side, indicating that the captain has just rolled out of bed.
- How long?
I look at my wristwatch. She left the building five minutes ago.
- It's already late.