Chapter 22
Oliver Ferraz
The doorman lets me know Alice has arrived, and I decide to wait for her by the elevator. I'm relaxed, in no rush, and I watch as the doors open. I like what I see. A half-smile crosses my face as I walk over to greet her.
“Welcome to my humble home. Make yourself at home! By the way… you look beautiful.” I plant a lingering kiss on her cheek. “And you smell amazing!”
I watch her come in, taking everything in, clearly impressed by the apartment. It really is beautiful: light-colored sofas, paintings on the walls, a bar in the corner near the glass wall overlooking the entire city. That's where she gravitates.
“This place is gorgeous, Oliver.”
“I think we can drop the formalities for tonight, don't you, Alice?” I say, moving closer to her.
“Sorry! Your apartment is beautiful. I never pictured you in a place like this—everything so light and modern.”
“Yeah, I do like modern, but I usually prefer cooler tones. When I bought the place, I never got around to redecorating, so I left it as is. Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a glass of wine?”
“I'd love one, thank you.”
I pour her a glass of wine and give her the full tour. Alice loves every room, but it's the pool area that really takes her breath away.
“I'll have to throw a barbecue and invite you over,” I say with a grin.
She gives me a look that stops me in my tracks.
“What? Did you think I'd never invite you back?”
“Well, I'm not used to dates. This is my first… so I don't really know how to act, or if there'll even be a next time.”
I step closer, slip my arm around her waist, let my gaze drop to her lips, and murmur:
“If it's up to me, we'll have plenty more.” I lean in and kiss her—a soft, chaste kiss that tastes of red wine.
I pull back and head to the kitchen, offering her a stool at the island so she can sit near me while I make dinner.
“I hope you like pasta,” I say, smiling.
“I love it… it was my favorite food at the orphanage.”
I look at her, surprised, and she covers her mouth as if she's said too much. I don't know her story. I've never cared to ask. So I decide to now:
“You lived in an orphanage? If you're comfortable talking about it, I'd like to know more about you.”
“I don't usually talk about my past. The only people who know are your parents and Catarina.”
“If you want to tell me, I'd be happy to listen.”
“Let's save that for another time… if you don't mind.”
“I just want you to be comfortable. Whenever you're ready, just say the word, okay?”
“Thank you.” She smiles.
“Tell me, how long have you been working in the executive office?”
We change the subject, and the mood lightens. She tells me about work—how she started and rose through the ranks so quickly. She talks about how she's always helped my father and the other employees. We eat dinner, drink wine, and talk. Everything is wonderful.
Afterward, we clear the plates. Alice is completely at ease now, padding around the house barefoot. I notice how petite she is, and something protective stirs in me. Wait… where did that come from? She was supposed to be just a distraction. A woman to pass the time, Oliver.
We wash, dry, and put away the dishes. I lead her to the living room and put on some ambient music so we can enjoy each other's company.
“I loved dinner. Thank you so much—it was delicious,” she says, looking at me. “Where did you learn to cook?”
“Ever since I was a kid, I loved being in the kitchen with my mom. I helped with everything—chopping vegetables, seasoning meat. That's where I got my gift.”
“You cook really well. I love cooking too. I'm no expert, but I get by. I always made it a priority to learn everything I needed to survive—cooking was one of those things. And I always wanted to be first in my class, because I knew someday I'd need my intelligence.”
“So you were first in your class?”
“Yes. I graduated high school with honors—best student in every subject. I won a scholarship that helped me get into the hotel. I started at the front desk, and at the first opportunity, I took the internal exam and moved up to executive secretary.”
“My father always spoke highly of you. I actually thought you'd be older, given how much he talked about your dedication.”
“Yes, I threw myself into the work and learned so much from Mr. Edgar. He really took me under his wing.”
I turn to face her, gently twirling a strand of her hair around my finger—it's so soft. I tilt her chin toward me and whisper, as if sharing a secret meant only for us:
“Let's forget about my father… and focus on what really matters: the two of us.”
Before she could respond, I captured her lips with mine. The taste of wine lingered, sweet and intense, but what truly intoxicated me was her. I felt her body shiver beneath my hands, and it only made me want her more.
Tonight, Alice wouldn't leave here the same person. Tonight, I would decide if she was just a passing memory… or the woman who would change everything.
And from the look she gave me when we pulled apart, I already knew the answer.