Chapter 27 The Devil Wants Me
A Buenaventura had been in my house! Also, he washed my dishes after inviting himself. What was I thinking? He broke in! What could I even make of the entire situation?
I looked at my computer that Maria was already crouched in front of, mouthing off his net worth and the various numerous businesses now under him.
“Chika, he’s so freaking rich!! No no, he’s not rich, he is money, he’s—”
“Calm down, mami. You’re drooling,” I said with an exasperated sigh. I was more confused than entertained.
“I have never met a billionaire before! Do they poop different? I can’t believe I shared breath with him! Does that make me rich by breath?” Maria paused and laughed at her own joke.
“Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!!! I can’t contain my excitement, Cee. He came around us. He spoke to us, remember? Does he like you? Wait, does he like me?!” Maria jumped up before falling on the floor, burying herself in a fit of laughter and giggles.
“Calm down, Maria. You are going to choke on your spit,” I muttered absentmindedly.
“But wait. He doesn’t need school, why is he in school? You think it was a—” Maria droned on, but I couldn’t help but agree. Why was he in school, almost ten feet away from me?
Well, at least it explained his gait and behavior. He had power. He was a freaking billionaire. Born and bred in money and power. And he used it on me! Used that blasted power on me! Kissing me like he… the thought brought sudden anger and equal embarrassment that lasted until Maria returned home after spending the entire day there.
I had big plans for the next weekend, which was six days away.
It was going to be my only source of respite and distraction from the whole Ryder debacle. Since my mum’s death, my dad and I had visited an orphanage that we donated gifts to in her mother’s name.
This year, my dad would not be joining physically since he was out of the country for work, but he was still fully on board.
I smiled fondly as the memories of my mother came rushing in. I remembered how my father had recounted the story of how my mum had fussed about wanting all our names in alphabetical order.
My dad, Adam Luther, my mum, Barbara Luther, and then my mum, who was in love with the goddess of the moon, Selene, had decided Celene Luther wasn’t so bad.
I cherished my name mainly because it reminded me of my mom in so many ways.
It also made me sad, since every time someone asked me why my name was spelled with a “C,” I had to launch into a full tale of my mother.
It kept her memory alive, but it also came with the pain of having just memories left.
I pushed the Cole Ryder drama to the back of my mind to focus on something more pressing, not that I could really pull it off. My mind would habitually roam to thoughts of him, wondering where he was and what he was doing. Did he enjoy his new limelight? How did he hide his name so well? Why… did he hide his name? Why did he keep showing up around me?
I had no answer, so they kept swimming around in my head as I made plans and inventoried what we would be donating to the orphanage.
It was usually done on my mother’s birth-versary, the coining of her birth anniversary, which was six days from then. It was a family affair, and as an only child, I took it pretty seriously. For six years since my mum’s passing, I went with my father, but this time, I would have to go with Maria or alone.
After checking to make sure the snacks, socks and shoes, board games and learning books, crayons, poster colors, drawing books and canvases were ready, I was beyond exhausted, but I knew if I could only make it to my mum’s birth‑versary, it would be alright.
I fell on my bed, not having enough strength to think of Cole Ryder. Or wonder why my bedroom window was open. Again.