Chapter 1 You're Getting Married Congratulations! I

YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED. CONGRATULATIONS! POV GABE I heard a knock on the door and Jorel entered. My brother was the only person on earth who dared to enter my living room without knocking. And he didn't bother to be announced, as if his presence was important enough not to need any formality. - I got your note. - He sat down in front of me, picking up a pen from the table - How much did you pay for this? - Less than you pay for a prostitute. - I barely took my eyes off what I was doing on the computer. - I don't go out with prostitutes. I'm enough of a man that fortunately I don't need to pay anyone to satisfy me sexually, like "some and others" out there. - He laughed debauchedly. I minimized the important screen I was working on and looked at it: - I don't remember giving you the right to even "think" about what I do or don't do. - I made that very clear. - When you raise your eyebrow like that, you look like an old man. - He continued to tease me. I took a deep breath and tried to get it through my head that Jorel was an idiot and that he would be useful to me, especially now: - At the peak of my 30s, I don't think I'm old. But there is such a thing as maturity, which you don't learn at university. - You know I've missed a few classes. - He laughed, finding it amusing that he didn't care about anything in life except pussies. - People make choices in life. If yours was to be an idiot with no future, remembered for the number of pussies he ate throughout his life, I don't give a fuck. - You called me here to discuss my lifestyle? - his body arched forward slightly, looking uninterested. - No. Actually, I called you here to tell you that you're getting married! Congratulations! I maximized the page on the computer, going back to work on the analysis of the important project that I needed to finish by the end of the day to approve or disapprove. I heard Jorel laughing, but I didn't bother to look at his stupid face. Because I knew he would do as I told him. "Everyone" obeyed me and my brother would be no different. I continued to read the small letters in front of the computer, and his annoying laughter subsided until it stopped: - Why did you call me? - I've already said it! - I just said, unwilling to use up my vocal cords. - I'm not getting married. If you've read that on any website out there, it's a lie. In fact, that's all these fucking gossip sites are good for these days, destroying the reputation of good guys like me! - His tone of debauchery irritated me deeply. - "Yes, you're getting married," I confirmed quietly, "to Olivia Abertton. Jorel laughed like a donkey again. What do you mean that laboratory wanted me to buy a drug that it had already negotiated with another pharmaceutical company? They shouldn't even have sent me the proposal. Everyone in the business already knew that I didn't negotiate products that weren't exclusive. Clifford was already at a level where it didn't even need to compete. It was the best in the world. - You can at least look me in the fucking face! - Jorel changed his voice, almost to a shout. I sighed and lowered the screen: - Can you believe there are still laboratories that want to do business with Clifford when they've already sold the product to another pharmaceutical company before? - I leaned back in leather chair, slightly stressed by the petulance my of some people in my field. - I don't give a fuck about your fucking business, Gabe. What marriage are you talking about? - Yours," I said again, calmly, in case he didn't understand that he had no choice to butrun away from it, "You will marry Olivia Abertton. - No fucking way! - He laughed, but I could see the nervousness of a fearful immature man in his eyes. - Yes, you will. - Why are you telling me? - He laughed again, his lips barely moving - I'm of age, have you forgotten? You can't force me! - Are you in love with one of his prostitutes? - They're not prostitutes. - He vociferated. - They take advantage of your expensive drinks, the dinners you offer them in the most luxurious restaurants and lie down on the best sheets in the world's most prestigious hotels. In return, they give you sex. They're prostitutes! - You're such a son of a bitch! - And you're a spoiled playboy who has nothing to do with his life. So get married and that's that. - Why are you so sure? - Because if you don't, I'll take away your allowance. - You can't do this. - Yes, I can. You get it for charity. You're not my son or anything. I have no obligation to you to give you money every month so that you can stick it in sluts. - I'm your brother, Gabe. - And you sold me your share in the company, remember? - You didn't pay me anywhere near what they were worth and you know it. - I made the offer and you accepted. I'm sorry if you didn't have good lawyers who advised you not to accept my offer. - Where the fuck did you come from? Because I doubt it was from our mother's belly. - Marry Olivia Abertton and you'll continue to receive your "fat" allowance every month. And when it's still not enough, I can give you extra when you need it. - What's wrong with this girl? - None. She's not even ugly. - Isn't she ugly? - He picked up his cell phone to check who it was. - She's a chuchu: tasteless, odorless and insignificant. I saw a smile break out on Jorel's face: - She's beautiful! What's wrong with her? Do you want me to do charity work? Do you want to do business with the Abertton family? - As I said, "she" is insignificant. But her father is, let's say... Someone with whom I have some issues to resolve. But they're personal. They have nothing to do with you. - I think even a chayote has been better described in life! - he turned his eyes back to his cell phone screen - She's studying medicine. - He's still a chuchu. - Maybe it's too clever for me. - His only job is to go to church, marry her and live his life. - I'm too young to get married, Gabe. I'm 22. And she's... 19. A baby! I doubt her father will authorize this nonsense. - Her father is not in a position to authorize it or not. - If I don't marry her, will I run out of money?