Chapter 28 Torture And Lizard Women
Cole Ryder's POV
Popularity was the devil’s torture device.
With every flash of the camera, with every interview question or direction from the photographer, I knew I was being tortured.
Immediately after my last session was over, I all but raced to my car and ordered the driver to move.
I could not let myself spend another day away from my newest obsession. I tried to concentrate, I really did, but nothing could hold my attention long enough.
After only a few hours of signing documents, handing over my father’s rights, and establishments to my name, I could barely sit still for the long string of pictures and recorded video interviews.
I looked for her in the ladies I saw around, in the dresses hanging from mannequins in shopping malls on the street, in the interviewers’ eyes, even in the clouds and sky!
Everything was mediocre!
Everything was a poor disappointment.
Every lady there was a source of pure dissatisfaction and wretched, nauseating abomination.
Every smile thrown at me was a projectile voice mixed with lies and deceit. They weren’t her. They weren’t my Celene.
No one could compare to the radiant beauty of my Celene. Even the female interviewer who had tried to “casually” hold a conversation with me before the interview could not measure up, and would never compare to the grace and smart brains that my Celene possessed.
She had started by complimenting me—my clothes, my business ideas, even my perfume fragrance.
All I could do was compare her to Celene.
Her hair was flat and draped limply on her shoulder.
Her dress was beautiful, with bright colors, but I knew it would look better on my Celene.
Even her shoes were ugly.
Her eyes would have been a beautiful shade of blue, but since she owned them, they weren’t.
Celene’s brown eyes only looked good on her. Only Celene could pull it off. Only Celene could make ugly clothes look like they belonged on a magazine.
I could not argue or deny that I missed my Celene. In my car, after finishing my third interview for the day, I low-key regretted not having the secret cameras I initially bought installed in her house.
I picked up my phone as I sat in the back seat, the driver moving softly and steadily toward my next appointment, wishing I could easily pull up footage from her house on my phone and watch what my little firecracker was doing.
But then again, I reminded myself, nothing truly beat the thrilling feeling of being in her space physically, of moving into her room and watching her sleep. The feeling of seeing the rise and fall of her chest and the fluttering of her lashes. The exhilaration of watching her beautiful, lithe body move under her new favorite silk nightdress.
The thought of the peach-colored nightdress sent cold shivers down my back, all the way to my crotch. I had seen the nightdress in a mall during my last trip to Greece. On the mannequin, it looked beautiful, and I knew that on my Celene, it would be ethereal.
She had such a beautiful body, it was a wonder she could even move freely in the streets. When she claimed me, I would have to check that. She was a danger to society, looking so effortlessly beautiful.
From the first strand of her bouncy hair to the tip of her toenails, no part of her could be ignored.
I continued to picture her in the dress and had gotten it immediately. I didn’t need to give it to her as a gift or anything. I had simply snapped off the price tags and left it purposefully but carelessly in her already large heap of clothes in the closet. Such a scatterbrain, my Celene.
And in true fashion, Celene did not question where she got it and had simply put it on the very first night.
It had been no small victory for me...seeing her wearing something I bought.
Next, it was a dark blue pair of jeans I found in Paris, and after that, a blue cotton top I got in France.
And there began the habit of casually dropping clothes I knew would look good on her in her closet and feeling the intense rush and overwhelming joy whenever she put them on.
I kept all the tags in my own closet, for no real reason other than the reminder that I got them for her and she loved them.
My smile stretched across my face as more thoughts of Celene filled my mind.
“What are you smiling about, Mr. Ryder? You must be very excited about the company, seeing as you’re smiling so broadly. Permit me to say, I’ve never really seen you smile before, and it’s really beautiful. Your smile.”
The female voice beside me startled me right back from my dreamland.
How could I forget the skinny fashion magazine model who was currently sharing a ride with me?