Comment(s)
View
Chapters

Chapter 1 Igor and Isis

very special for me. In my last job, I took care of the seven-year-old boy until he was pre-adolescent, when the family dismissed me because they no longer needed me. During brief periods of inactivity I stayed in cheap boarding houses, but even if they were cheap, I needed work to pay for them. So, I practically accepted any job, even if it was far or even if it was difficult. - Okay, let's go in, Maria Eduarda - he said, turning his back on me and returning to the mansion. - I'm Samuel, the butler.

The house had a butler! I was speechless, not only because it was the first time I had met a butler, but it was the first time I had entered such a mansion. For starters, the place was old. It had the look of a rustic castle, with several portraits on the wall. The entrance hall was high, and right above our heads, a bright chandelier gave enough light for me to see a huge staircase in the background that led to a richly decorated second floor. I followed the butler deeper. We entered a spacious room with a fireplace, but it all happened very quickly and I couldn't get a good look at her. Soon the butler guided me to a hallway. There were small benches in this hallway, and Samuel told me to sit on one of them. - Wait, I'll announce it to Mr. Figueiredo. He disappeared, heading towards one of the rooms. I imagined it was an office. I lost my breath for a few moments, I didn't know anything about the house, nor about this Figueiredo guy, and I thought I should have prepared myself better for this interview. Frankly, I didn't fit in with this place. Not with my loud orange gypsy skirt and my comfortable black pajamas. As the place was very far away, I had to take several buses to get there and walk a bit more, so I dressed as comfortably as I could. I even wanted to put on jeans, but I didn't have any clean ones. Plus, I thought it was just another lower middle class family needing a babysitter while the parents work. Not that it was a place in a castle! Nobody commented anything special on SINE. I hear footsteps. I turn my face to Samuel and he extends his hand towards the door, a clear indication for me to enter. I straightened my skirt as best I could, as well as my hair, which was disheveled and frizzy from the wind I caught outside. I took a deep breath and started walking towards the door. I entered. That's when my eyes noticed a man in his early thirties, with brown hair and blue eyes, sitting behind a huge wooden desk. He got up. It was tall. But, not a giant. He was discreetly handsome, but nothing that made him stand out as a model or actor. - Good morning, I'm Otávio - he extended his hand to me with simple politeness and I hurried to accept it. - Maria Eduarda Fiuza, Mr. Figueiredo. - Only Otávio, please - he asked, smiling at my greeting. His teeth were so white and straight that I smiled in return just because that was how my body reacted. It was as if his smile awakened something very strong and beautiful in me, which I wasn't used to feeling. - Did you bring your CV? "Yes, sir," I say, rushing the paper through his fingers. He smiled again. My heart missed beats and I know I blushed. - Please sit down - he indicated a chair in front of the desk. When he sat behind the desk, he reclined in the armchair, reading the paper. - He has a lot of experience, apparently. - Yes sir. I have been taking care of children for years. - And do you have any qualifications in the area? Pedagogy or maybe something in health? Nursing technician or something? How can I explain to him that I never studied because I was too stupid to learn anything? - No sir. Just experience. I was mortified with shame. He would definitely send me away saying he would evaluate it. - Experience is everything, Miss Fiuza - he smiled again. Miss Fiuza. Nobody ever called me that. - We are from a secular family. My ancestors inherited these lands from the Portuguese government shortly after colonization and, regardless of past crises, we remained firm and productive. We have a noble title that was granted to my great-great-grandfather. He was a count, and today I am. But, titles do not hold inheritances and fortunes. It's hard work that does it. I manage several family businesses, I hardly have time for my children. He dropped the paper on the table. One of his fingers went up to his face, and he supported his face with his thumb and forefinger. Thoughtfully, it was as if I would define it. - I have two children. Igor and Isis. They are adorable children, you will like them. It's not because they are my children, but they really are intelligent and full of life. Sure, a little messy, but nothing that would take anyone seriously. I nodded. - How old? - Isis is five and Igor is seven. -Are you at school? - They were, but with the divorce... Anyway, it was very stressful for them, and they ended up missing a lot of days. As the year is almost over, I agreed with the management that they will restart everything next year. Since they were so small, I knew this wouldn't be a problem. Otávio stood up. I started to do the same, imagining that the interview was over, but he motioned for me to stay put. So, he went to the door, and called for the butler. They talked quietly, and the older man soon left. - I asked to call the children - he told me. - I want you to meet them. I believe that not even a minute passed before the door opened and I saw two small miniatures entering the place. My heart raced at the beauty I saw in the two little creatures. I loved children. I loved them because they never pretended to be something they weren't.

Continue Reading

You'll also like

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Jessica C. Dolan
5.0

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.

I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!

I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!

The Wine Press
4.7

I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book