9 - LARA
The jerks locked me in?
I run, pound on the door. Nothing.
What the hell is this? An office? Since when does this damn house have one?
“Oh, of course, it has to be convincing!” I yell to no one. “A family of Spanish nobility, French or whatever the fuck, has to have one. Of course!”
Shit!
The alcohol hit hard.
“Decoration! Just decoration! Fake!!!!” I scream, out of control, breaking some objects. I wear myself out. Everything kind of spins. I lean on the desk. I grab my phone, start a group call.
Pri laughs when she sees the state I’m in.
Barbs seems genuinely worried.
“I told those jerks,” I yell even louder, “bring it! You don’t know how to face a badass woman like me?! Why don’t you show you’ve got balls? Because you don’t! You don’t! None of them! Not one! A bunch of assholes! All of them!”
“Calm down, girl,” Bárbara says, shooting Priscila a look for laughing.
“Calm down my ass!”
“Damn, I’ve never heard you talk so dirty, girl.”
“Priscilaaaaa, you haven’t seen anything.
I destroyed them! You’d be proud of me, girl.
They’re a bunch of little shits... You think you know, but of course you don’t, you don’t know what they’re capable of.
All of them! Alllll of them! And when I say all, I mean all.
Really, all of them. You hearing me? Not one escapes. Not a single one...”
I hear the key turn. I cut off my sordid revelations. Hang up. Brace myself. The second it opens, I scream and attack with everything I’ve got! I land on top of him. Adam.
We hit the floor, the door closes and locks behind us. What?
We stare at each other. His eyes aren’t glassy anymore. Or maybe I just drank too much. I can’t move.
“I want to apologize for any inconvenience, Lara. Anything my friends may have caused you.” Has he lost his mind? What’s he talking about? Oh, right, the threats. “Keep your mouth shut.” “I’m sure they did it thinking of my well-being and your sister’s.”
The moment he mentions Laura, my body regains some control. I get up, a little wobbly.
He gets up too, straightening his clothes.
“I know it doesn’t justify it,” my sister’s fiancé continues. “You saw how happy we are. That night was... crazy. A beautiful kind of crazy, but it was a bachelor party. I... I’m begging you not to tell Laura, or anyone. That night should never have happened.”
Seriously? I squint, unable to understand.
“That night?” I ask, perplexed. “So I can go into detail about the eleven days at my apartment?”
His Adam’s apple bobs.
“Lara...”
“Yes... Adam,” I say his name with deliberate disdain.
“You understood me,” his voice falters. “If that night hadn’t happened, the eleven days wouldn’t have existed either.”
I walk slowly around the room, circle the desk, grab a pen and a notepad. I sit down. I blow the light dust off them. I open the cover, click the pen. I look up at him watching me.
“Fact is, they happened, so let’s go, Mr....”
“Devereaux.”
“Hmm... I don’t even know how to pronounce that.
Let’s stick with... SB,” I slide my tongue over my lips.
“So, please, Mr. SB, tell me, spell it out for me,” I laugh softly, “no, not on me. Here,” I tap the pen tip on the paper a few times, “on the notebook, little pad, whatever you millionaires call this thing. Is it in English? Oh, no, or you wouldn’t have chosen that god-awful song.
” I look at him with lust in my eyes, point to the chair on the other side of the desk, across from me.
“Sit down. Let’s dot the i’s and cross the t’s. ”