Chapter 8 Casarei Ii

But submissive? No, I wasn't. And the marks on my body proved how hard I had fought not to let them do whatever they wanted to me in the past. Logically, I should have grown up full of trauma and hating the world. But I believed that I existed for a reason and that's why I wrote my memoirs while I was still alive, in a notebook, because when I died they would find and publish my biography: "Olivia Abertton, the woman who survived chaos and pain". Perhaps I would replace "pain" with "diabetes" in the future, since I didn't know how long the disease would let me live. I was taking 15 doses of insulin a day, even though I was following all the doctor's recommendations. Jorel Clifford would just be the icing on the cake. My reward. The man who would take my virginity, as I'd dreamed about a few times. I always imagined that he must be good in bed, since he had experience. - Are you... Smiling? - My father snapped me out of my thoughts. - Yes. I'm happy. - I made it clear. My father made a phone call, leaving us. Rose and I stared at each other. After a while she said: - I don't know what your plans are, Olivia! But... Thank you. A flash of humanity in Rose Abertton? That's why I always believed the glass was "half full". Was she awful? Oh yes. But it could be worse... Like having my food poisoned. - I spoke to secretary Gabe 'sCliffordand asked for an appointment so that you and Jorel Clifford could meet. - Dad returned from the corner where he had made the call. - And he didn't accept! - I snorted. - He accepted. It will be tonight, at a dinner at the Clifford residence here in the capital. - What? - Rose shouted, in a mixture of despair and joy - Are we going to visit one of the mansionsClifford ? I don't even have the clothes for this! I need a hairdresser, make-up... And a new dress, Ernest! Didn't we live in a mansion? I always thought it was... A big house, in a gated community, with more bedrooms than people, all en-suite, large rooms, expensive, high-quality furniture... That woman didn't know what meantpoverty , literally. And if she came face to face with that condition, she would die. Of course, adapting to the good life was much easier than the bad. And for this reason I was very dedicated and grateful when I arrived at the Aberttons' house, so as never to disappoint my father or be a bigger embarrassment than I already was in his life. Going against my stepmother and younger sister, I didn't wear anything from a recognized and reliable brand to the event where I would meet my future husband, opting instead for what suited my style. - Orange? - Rose said, unconvinced, as we got out of the car in front of the Aberttons' residence - Who wears orange to an event to meet the brother of the richest man in the country? - Orange is the new nude! - I tried to hold back my laughter. - The good thing is that Olivia looks good in any shade. - Isabelle, as always, defended me. - You really look beautiful, Heart! - Dad put his arm over my shoulder, making sure that I was practically "protected" by his body. - In fashion magazines, the photo will draw a lot of attention to you because of the color. - Rose was still annoyed by my look. - I wanted you to be the main attraction, Mom? - Isabelle laughed mockingly - It's Olivia who's getting married. - The tone is awful! I don't even want the spotlight on me this time, I swear! Before we reached the main door, which must have been six meters high and wide, the butler was waiting for us, dressed in a completely traditional manner. The Collins mansion in the capital was graceful, not to say "splendorous". Beautiful, perfect, it even looked like a lie. But I was sure that no one other than the staff lived there, because there was no sign of life... Except the one beating in my heart, eager to meet the most beautiful man in the world: Jorel Clifford. We were ushered into a gigantic room with a ceiling so high it looked like the tower of a castle. And there was my dream: "Jorel Clifford". I wanted my heart not to give away all the anxiety I felt for that moment. But it was impossible, because it was beating uncontrollably. I don't know if it was the nervousness of that meeting or the fact that we no longer had a piece of furniture in the house and I was practically being used as a bargaining chip so that my father wouldn't be thrown literally into the gutter, but my blood seemed to be begging for sugar, even though I had already taken my daily dose of insulin. The Cliffords came towards us and my eyes couldn't keep off Jorel's. God, it was true! I was going to touch my dream idol who was ripped and hot. And was that beautiful, exuberant smile on his face for me? His dark brown hair was short and cut in a modern style. It was well combed and straight, but I had seen him a few times with looser strands, which left it slightly curly. His eyes were gray, but in the photos they looked light brown. I liked what I saw in person. I wasn't disappointed by the color, on the contrary, I loved it. His gaze was expressive and docile. He must have been almost 1.80 meters tall. But compared to my father, everyone was short. He wore a suitStuart Hughes , certainly tailor-made. And I felt a warmth emanating from my body as I imagined what lay beneath that pile of fabric. The men greeted each other cordially and gruffly, except for my suitor, who kept looking at me with a slight smile on his lips. I never imagined that he couldn't be sweet and charming. That was written all over his forehead, even in the media spotlight. - I'm Jorel Clifford. - He introduced himself to me, offering his hand. - Olivia... Yours... Pleasure... I mean, pleasure... At your service. - I tried to fix it and not sound like the president of a fan club he didn't know yet. I shook the hand he offered me and Jorel entwined his fingers in mine, taking me to a secluded corner of the room, next to a huge glass window, from where we could see a garden that looked even more perfect in the setting sunlight. - Do you have... A labyrinth in your garden? - I heard myself asking, in disbelief. - Yes," he laughed, "a maze of small bushes. But we don't come here much, don't worry. - We could always come. I loved it. - I couldn't help admiring the place - Oh, my God - I sniffled, embarrassed - I'm sorry... For the "we could"... But... As far as I know, we're getting married. - Ah, yes - he smiled and picked up two glasses of champagne that were coming our way, brought by an ornate official for the occasion (or was it always like that?) - A wedding for the good of our families: your father won't be on the street and I won't have my allowance. - He laughed sincerely as he raised his glass towards me. I clinked my glass with his and continued without looking away: - I thought I was being too direct, but I realized that you think like me. - I took a sip of the champagne, which went down burning, the balls fizzy seeming to play with the inside of my throat. - I thought you were beautiful! And honestly, if I'd met you today, even without knowing about this fucking deal, I'd ask you to marry me right now. You're the woman of my dreams! I couldn't contain my laughter, which ended up coming out too loud. I looked back and everyone was watching me, their faces not at all pleased. But I couldn't help myself. Jorel was exactly what I expected: a sweetheart. Of course, a sweet liar who wanted to get me into bed. But I wasn't going to get away with it, since we were going to be husband and wife. And who wouldn't want to lose their virginity to a man like that? Only the craziest of women. Until my eyes met his... The only man in that place that I didn't know, but who I did know, by elimination: Gabe Clifford. It was like crashing into an iceberg in the middle of the ocean. I was the Titanic and he was the reason for my shipwreck. Never in my entire life had I had the feeling that something could break or weaken me, since my past had done everything it could to destroy me and failed. But there was my ruin, my martyrdom, my ordeal. Immediately I knew that he was my hell, without scales. And I would be capable of all the evil in the world to accompany him to the underworld.