17. Enrique
Chapter 17
Enrique
I was low when I arrived at the house and found that Emily packed up any possibility of our life together. While I was already grappling with the guilt of letting Emily go so I could help Yasmeena, seeing that she left me hurt. I didn’t make it home on time, I’m not sure if I will ever hear this from her in person.
I could have attempted to reason with her or make her stay. Maybe it was for the best. It’s a position she always wanted, I wasn’t going to step on her dreams. I also couldn’t go with her. I’m on the cusp of my own career upgrade and I couldn’t just leave Yasmeena hanging. I tried. I’d already turned her down once, even reasoned with her about donating my sperm, but every time the same image of her sick and distraught kept flashed in my mind, I backed off.
I couldn’t walk away. Going to her house provided a distraction for a bit but after I signed the contract things became real. I’ve officially traded Emily for Yasmeena. The pain of the break up hit me again and I needed to be alone. Yasmeena isn’t equipped to help me with this. I just have to help her out while I work through my own heartbreak.
I didn’t bring anything with me so I’ll just buy whatever I need once we reach our destination. Going to the empty house of broken dreams and memories is not anything I want to do right now.
The bathroom Yasmeena assigned to me has all the toiletries necessary to groom myself and get ready to catch this flight. After another long look in the mirror, I put on a neutral face and leave my room.
Walking around, I seek out my now fiancée and find her in the kitchen. I’m not surprised to see her on her laptop working on something. Knowing her, she’s planning world domination. I look around then back at the plate next to her.
“Good morning,” I greet her. “Is fruit and tea all you’re having?”
“Yeah, I don’t have much of an appetite these days. It’s the cancer unfortunately, but if you want something, I can call the chef to make it for you. Do you want eggs or something else?”
“Do we have time for that?” I motion toward the same clothes I had yesterday. “I need to shop before the wedding. Did you plan what I’d wear too?”
“I did. Your suit and shoes should be here any minute. Along with someone to style your hair. So yeah, we have time.”
Interesting. I was joking but I should have known better. I’ve worked for her for almost five years, she’s planned everything the entire time.
“Then yes, I’d like something to eat. Is the stylist coming to Vegas with us?”
“We’re going to Vancouver Island and no, they’re both coming here.” The doorbell rings. “Right on time.” Yasmeena walks away and comes back with 2 women. One is holding a garment bag and a shoe box and the other, a bag that I can’t see what’s inside. “Mariam, Layla, this is Enrique, Enrique…Mariam and Layla.”
“Nice to meet you?” I say, not sure what the protocol is for something like this. I shake their hands. I look at Yasmeena since this is her plan.
“The girls will get you ready in your room while the chef makes you breakfast. What would you like? I’ll pass it on.”
“French toast with syrup all over it. Scrambled eggs and some fruit,” I say, to see if she’ll recognize her usual order.
“That’s…what you want?”
“Yes. Will you help me eat it?”
“Help you?”
I look at the ladies waiting for me. “Go ahead and set up. I'll be there in a moment.” I give Yasmeena my attention once they’re gone. “Yes. You have your list of expectations and this is one of mine, I want us to share meals. ”
“Share meals? Why?”
“Because I said so,” I respond giving her back some of the answers she’s given me in the past.
“Are you throwing your weight around or something like that?”
“It’s my request and you ask too many questions. Oh, and bacon, please.”
“Interesting,” she says. “Are you having that dry or with coffee or tea?”
“Grapefruit juice if available. If not, water.”
“Okay. You don’t want us to share that as well, do you?”
“Do you hate grapefruit juice?”
“I don’t drink juice.”
“BYOB,” I say with a smirk then head off to be made up since Yasmeena wants to act like my sugar mama. Stopping, I turn to ask her another question. “I only saw one suit.”
“It’s custom.”
Her response throws me for a loop. It doesn’t seem possible. “When did you order a custom suit for me?”
“When you proposed.”
Now I know she’s fucking with me. We just talked last night. The expression on my face tells her I think she’s full of shit. “Yeah, right.”
“I mean when you proposed to Emily, not me.” She smirks with what could be considered an evil expression.
“What the hell, Yasmeena?” I say taking a step back. “Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
“Crazy? It’s not crazy, it’s calculated. Do we not do that with every business venture we decide to invest in? And that’s the second time you've called me crazy.”
“Just…no. The same relationship you plotted against just ended yesterday.”
I’m not interested in one of her detached answers or rationalization so I turn and walk away. She doesn’t get it and I’m not sure she ever will. Either way, the paperwork is already signed.