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clothes, refusing invitations at the last minute and not having sex, under any circumstances, on the first date. Although difficult and boring as hell, she was convinced that Vinícius was worth it. That's why she worked so hard to study the "Rules" to get to the altar... with him. Learning seemed to run into operational problems. The cover of The Speech of Voluntary Servitude didn't line up with the instruction manual for marrying the man of her dreams. It was already the fourth attempt and when it seemed, wow, perfect, the cover of one and the book of the other mismatched. Kárita sighed uneasily. Again, she re-aligned and adjusted the pink clip that marked the last page read. Mental note: I need to change this cover. Book on the table, she inventoried the objects that awaited her. In addition to the philosophical cover, which suggested a refined intellect, there was a bottle of mineral water, a cup of coffee, a stuffed churro and a smartphone. The device's display read fifteen thirty. The coffee still retained its heat, but after the third cup it was difficult to feel tolerable. The churro, on the other hand, lay intact, as it was part of the cinematic script she had put together for her "casual" meeting with Vinícius. In her scene marking, which included La Boétie's book, she would be carrying the churro in her hand, as if she had just bought it before leaving the airport. Strategic stop, to check out an excerpt of the work with great interest, as soon as she looked up from the pages she would come face to face with Vinícius crossing the lobby, heading towards the parking lot. Vini... what a surprise! Between a friendly hug and a kiss on the cheek – on the cheek, just on the cheek, so as not to appear too interested – she would comment on the wonderful churro that was sold at Mister Coffee. She would put a piece in his mouth and then, already anticipating that the extra dulce de leche filling would drip down his chin, she would recover the excess with her index finger and bring it to her own mouth, in a gesture of calm and joyful complicity. Finally, the two would walk smiling to the parking lot, where their Cooper was waiting. She had decided on the itinerary during the trip, driving from Zermatt, district of Santa Bárbara dos Pinhais, in the south of Minas, to Guarulhos airport, in São Paulo. As soon as she arrived, at fourteen o'clock sharp, she discovered that fate had not memorized her role. The flight that brought Vinícius from Campo Grande, and which should have landed at fourteen thirty-five, was delayed. As a result of her being from Minas Gerais, she always arrived early "so as not to miss the train", it was already an hour and thirty wait. Kárita looked to the end of the wide corridor. She had found a small refuge, a table at Mister Coffee which, in addition to being strategic, was away from the hustle and bustle and the comings and goings of passengers.

Chapter 1 waiting inside

Coffee. She would put a piece in his mouth and then, already anticipating that the extra dulce de leche filling would drip down his chin, she would recover the excess with her index finger and bring it to her own mouth, in a gesture of calm and joyful complicity. Finally, the two would walk smiling to the parking lot, where their Cooper was waiting. She had decided on the itinerary during the trip, driving from Zermatt, district of Santa Bárbara dos Pinhais, in the south of Minas, to Guarulhos airport, in São Paulo.

As soon as she arrived, at fourteen o'clock sharp, she discovered that fate had not memorized her role. The flight that brought Vinícius from Campo Grande, and which should have landed at fourteen thirty-five, was delayed. As a result of her being from Minas Gerais, she always arrived early "so as not to miss the train", it was already an hour and thirty wait. Kárita looked to the end of the wide corridor. She had found a small refuge, a table at Mister Coffee which, in addition to being strategic, was away from the hustle and bustle and the comings and goings of passengers. Bag and coat on one of the chairs, she had an excellent vantage point and could dedicate herself to reading, with only the front table for company, which remained empty. She reopened the book, to the page marked with the clip. Book and cover mismatched again, requiring another amount of engineering. She focused on Rule 9, pencil in hand to scribble and take notes. Around the third page read, somewhere around the tenth or eleventh paragraph, a thick male voice, calm but very imperative, reached her ears. – You're going to drink a Macchiato. Ice cream. Kárita almost jumped out of her chair. For a moment, she believed that Vinícius had come down from the heavens and was choosing her coffee, in a rare and unusual dominant posture. She looked up and discovered that, without any fanfare or noise, the table opposite hers had been occupied by a couple. A tall, dark-skinned man with glasses and a bushy beard; and a woman, who, although her back was turned, looked young and very elegant. The problem is that the man sat in the chair perpendicular to his companion's, placing himself at such an angle that he and Kárita were practically facing each other. The closeness was such that her words reached her as if the three of them were together. He wasn't concerned about the seating configuration. In fact, he seemed very comfortable with the fictitious connection between the two tables. Kárita moved uncomfortably, invading her own privacy. She looked around, ready to seek another refuge. It was in vain. There was no other place that would allow her to intercept Vinícius without appearing to be waiting for him. She resigned herself and shrugged. She looked at the smartphone's display, checked the time and returned to the book, hoping to abstract herself from reality and that strange proximity. – If it is to your liking, my lord, I will do as you wish. – The woman responded, equally clearly. Kárita's caramel eyes widened. She held in her laughter between her lips folded into her mouth. Serious?! Really?! However, her personality, which was also generous and full of empathy, forced her to consider other options than a bizarre relationship between rich and well-dressed people. Perhaps the girl was being deprived of her freedom, perhaps she was suffering mistreatment or, not exclusively, she wanted to protect herself from all possible types of domestic violence. Sisterhood, Kárita reminded herself. She raised her face to observe the couple, with the sole purpose of looking for signs, however small, that this woman needed help. But what she saw was very different from that. – Open your legs, Tina. Kárita couldn't stop herself from coughing dryly and gasping. The son of a bitch was an exhibitionist pervert, who touched his wife in a public place! He had chosen that table, sat that way and spoke that way so that Kárita would hear him! And now, he also saw him slide the fingers of his left hand between the girl's thighs. The display was so obviously for her, that Kárita wasn't surprised when he stared at her with a pair of dark, malicious blue eyes from behind his prescription glasses. What did that man want? For her to run away? For her to pretend that she had turned into a plant and remain static, paralyzed, face buried in the book like an ostrich between the letters? Seriously... she was trying really hard to become a "The Rules" girl, preparing herself with the best of 90s self-help literature to lasso the most wonderful and kind man on the face of the earth. She was bending her manners, correcting her language and controlling her impulses because Vinícius was worth it! That one there, who looked at her with the face of a perverted wolf, was nothing more than a depraved idiot, who wasn't worth a measly effort of his time to stay in line. No, really... Kárita closed the book, with a light and calculated gesture. She returned the look, defiant and haughty, finishing off the clash of views with a lenient, seductive smile. She leaned back in the chair, stretched her legs, even going so far as to touch the toes of her own shoes to his. Bust pointing forward, she ran her tongue across her upper lip, waiting. She made a slight gesture with her chin, indicating for him to continue with the provocation. The man spasmed into a surprised little smile. She turned her face a little to the side, looking in the opposite direction, avoiding "giving away" that her reaction had disarmed him. But he recovered within seconds. She took a deep breath, removed her fingers from inside her partner and straightened her body. He turned his entire torso towards Kárita and raised his left eyebrow. – I do subserviently. - Yes, my Sir. I understand. Kárita stretched her arms... languidly raised them to the top of her head, crossed her wrists and placed her hands against the reinforced concrete pillar behind her back. She gave him a languorous look and a breezy smile, without removing the strands of straightened hair that brushed his lips. She ran her tongue under her teeth when she realized that he had placed his hand on her companion's thigh and was squeezing it tightly, his eyes fixed incendiary on Kárita. – You will look beautiful, handcuffed, with your hands up, completely naked, with your legs open for me. I swear I will discipline you. I might even let you choose the whip or the stick. But that ass of yours is going to be as red as a ripe tomato... I'm going to punish you a lot. And I'll only stop when you beg me to eat you. Kárita spread a smile on her face. He broke the pose with his arms, leaned forward, light and flexible like a cat. She had his eyes locked on his, unable to look away from her and her movements. She shook her head in denial. She rested her forearms on the table...she winked at him and slowly picked up the churro that was waiting inside the packaging. She held the sweet sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon, held it in front of her mouth, delighting in the bewildered look the man was giving her. – And you're going to suck me...– he continued. Smiling with clear

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snort to myself and close my door. I go to my chair and throw myself into it, unable to think straight anymore. My life has become a mess, and a large part of it is the fault of a woman who doesn't even notice my looks at her. Ever since I saw her photo and her resume, when I looked for an employee at the company to be my personal assistant for a while, I find myself unable to control myself. Her brown eyes, which further highlight her dark skin, the color of sin, and a weak white smile, which she almost never shows, but her photo was my ally in this fact. I pick up the folder with her information again and look at the same photo that left me perplexed when I saw her for the first time. Since when did I see myself like this for a woman? Not even with Carla was it like this... I take a deep breath, leaving the photo on my desk and try not to scream another curse. At first, when I returned to Brazil, I had clear reasons and a right thing to do. But since life loves to play tricks, when I realized everything, my sister had already suffered an accident and lost part of her memory, and worse, I couldn't keep her from being close to her husband, who was my best friend, and was even capable of betraying her, also being the one to blame for the accident. If I returned, it was to tell my sister about what I found out about her husband, but in the end, a mess took over all of us. For now, we just hope that she gets better and her memory returns, so that she can decide what to do with her life. And me? For the first time, I want to be able to truly take care of my sister, truly protect her, stop being a selfish piece of shit. A soft knock on the door makes me sigh and I lean back against my chair. "Come in." The door opens, and the woman who drives me crazy enters. Doesn't she realize what she does to me? Ever since I saw her in person, I've been waiting for some look, some hint of interest. But on the contrary, Sophie seems completely oblivious to me. As if I were invisible to her. I always wonder why I never saw her on the trips I made to Brazil and on the many times I came to company parties or even meetings, but I could never really understand it. I know that if I had seen her, she would have caught my attention. - Mr. Lourenzinni, here are the papers you asked for. - she says, calmly as always, and places a folder on my desk. - Do you need anything else? - she asks, but doesn't look at me, looking slightly anywhere in the room, except at me. - Look at me, Sophie. - I ask, saying her name for the first time. I like the way it comes out of my lips. She blinks, I think she's surprised by my request, but then she lifts her chin and looks at me. Her brown eyes are a little hesitant, but I can't understand anything else about her. Besides, she's beautiful, completely. - Is there a problem, sir? - she asks and I shake my head. - You can leave. - I say, and she nods, leaving the room immediately. I wish I could have controlled myself, but I used my usual harsh tone with her. Why does she do this to me? It seems that at any moment I am near her, noticing her indifference, I will explode. I think that is why I cannot treat her well, at least wish her a good morning. This woman moves me in a way that no other woman has ever managed to do. But I do not know how to move on, at least not for now. For now, I am concentrating on work. However, knowing that the woman who drives me crazy is just a few steps away only makes everything worse. I am lost. Chapter 1 Months later Sophie I stare at the computer screen, while I try to control the frustration I feel. I read and reread what is written on the screen, and I feel like correcting the meaning of dictator in the dictionary itself. One of the meanings is missing: Daniel Lourenzinni. I have never been one to get stressed or even suffer because of something at work, but since the day I was called to go to my boss's office, that has changed. I immediately thought it was Mr. Gutterman, but as soon as they showed me to the room next to his and I looked into the clearest honey-colored eyes I had ever seen, I knew it wasn't him. Ever since I was a receptionist

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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.

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