The Love Of A Powerful Man

SILENTLY, Arianna walked down the driveway from the gate towards the old rest house that seemed to tower in the darkness. It was night and only moonlight served as the guide to see her way. The surroundings are all quiet save from the noise coming from the crickets. It was a bit cold, but she could endure it, especially as nervousness and stress made her sweat in her walk from her house to here.

The noise of the crickets was not enough to drown the loud thumping of her heart. It caused her chest to painfully constrict, as if the organ in its incessant thumping was pushing against her ribs, wanting to escape. She could understand its predicament. She was trying not to think of the hell she was expecting to endure in the next hour. She had read about this, had heard the women talk about it. They gave her all sorts of advice, only to be silenced by one of them as she turned paler and paler. Before she'd left they told her to look at them. They were happy. They could feed their family. They were surviving. It would only be one night. She would get through it, and could move on with her life.

She could move on with her life. Her brother would be home. Her mother would not have to worry further. They would all be okay.

Her dress was red, a symbol of the blood that would flow if her task would be successful tonight. Her hands visibly trembled at the thought. She reached the bottom of the three marble steps and stopped for a moment. She lifted her face to look up at the house... in the window there where she felt like someone was peeking out, a pair of unknown eyes watching her progress. But it was very dark up there that she could barely see if there was even a curtain. She couldn't see if anyone was there, but she felt a presence. Her body shivered.

Arianna was sure there was someone there. A man. The one who was waiting for her.

She looked back down at the house, at the porch that seemed ominous. Then she closed her eyes and for a moment resisted the dizziness that was ready to engulf her. She couldn't get confused or scared. She couldn't afford to be a coward. She was beyond that. She had surrendered to the fact that there was no other choice. There is no other way. Just this.

She had to save his brother. This is the only way.

Hands clasping her stomach, Arianna finally moved. She climbed the stairs and went to the large and heavy double doors. She grabbed one of the brass handles and pushed it back after a squeeze. She didn't know what to expect, but when the door opened effortlessly, she knew it was the moment when she had reached the point where there was no backing down whether she changed her mind or not. There was no turning back. There was no running.

She took the first step into the house.

And screamed when strong hands pulled her into the darkness.

ENRIQUE WATCHED the woman walk from the gate toward the house. There was no hesitant step there, just sure steps, a confident sway of the hips that seemed so natural, so full of grace. He laughed softly at the description he thought of. Full of grace... yeah. So in contrast with the bloody red scrap of thin material that was her excuse for a dress.

He has to admire the woman for not wearing any cover in the cold of the night so she could taunt all that beauty. And she was beautiful... what he could see of her, at least. She had fair skin, and in contrast with the redness of the dress, she floated across the darkness. Brad did promise she was going to be a beauty. Her long hair, looking full and soft, cascaded down her breasts and her back in soft curls.

He felt heat sting his flesh when he saw in his mind his hand fingers twisting strands of her hair on the pillows as he claimed her warm body.

Enrique was surprised at himself. Then he quizzically looked at the glass of liquor he was holding. Lusting over a call girl... he had never lusted over a call girl this hard. 

He'd never lusted over a call girl. Period.

So it must be the brandy.

He looked back down at the approaching woman again and felt satisfaction welling up in his chest. Well and good, for the first time in weeks, he'd felt a stirring in his loins that didn't involve Helena. After the bitch dumped him for someone richer, Enrique had been living in a swirl of shock. He couldn't believe money was the only reason why she loved him and it was also the reason why she left him. He couldn't believe that in their eight-month long relationship, she was able to hid from him that part of her. He couldn't believe that the woman he had thought to dedicate his future to was a big fake.

He couldn't believe that he, Enrique Quiroz, had been fooled but a woman. Blindsided by a fucking bitch. Didn't he swear he wouldn't be like his father?

Enrique's chest filled with bitterness and anger as he continued to watch the woman. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes narrowed when he saw her jerk a little, as if she was reluctant. Even scared. He smiled slightly. Cynically.