266- Between Gun and Heart

266- Between Gun and Heart
POV Raica:

"Why is he carrying a gun?" Lucca asks in astonishment. Actually, the idiot's face says he wants to run away.
"Why do you think?" he replies again.
"Nicholas, stop this," I order, very pissed.
"Are you safe with this guy, Raica?" Mr. Cactus laughs sinisterly.

I’m going to strangle him. I’m going to strangle him. I’m going to strangle him.
It’s almost a desperate mantra.

"My dear, this is a .380 pistol; it’s safe. And you?" He measures every inch of his sadistic approach, which inevitably makes Lucca shit his pants. "What are you doing with my fiancée in this deserted parking lot?"
"I am—"
"The ex?" Nicholas caresses the gun like a dangerous mobster and turns to Lucca with his head tilted. Today I will kill him, indeed. "I am the current one…"

Lucca blinks three times, then I intervene — enough of this theater.
"Lucca, we’ll talk later; you better go."
"Are you sure?"
"She’s sure," the other replies.
"Don’t answer for me, Nicholas." I look at Lucca. "I’m fine. You should go."

Nicholas is a dead man. Mark that down!

My ex, who undoubtedly leaves with his pants soiled, backs away cautiously and finally disappears from sight.
"What the hell is this, Nicholas?"

About to explode, I glare at the mocking man who laughs. He’s simply amused by the ridiculous scene he staged.
"Did you date this asshole?"

Gael appears in the shadows and Nicholas hands him the gun. The guard handles the object carefully, loading it. Then he tucks the barrel into his waistband behind his back and steps away.
"You know he can report this ridiculous little performance of yours to the university security?"
"I have a license to carry a gun, I already told you. But this isn’t mine — it belongs to Gael. So, which gun are we even talking about?"
"Cynical! Do you also have a license to threaten people?" I cross my arms.
"I didn’t threaten anyone."
"What the hell do you think you are, a mafioso or something?"
"I prefer gangster." I laugh, but it’s a nervous laugh.
"You’re ridiculous; you need a gun to intimidate a twenty-one-year-old. Aren’t you ashamed?"
"No." — No irony. — "It was fun, confess it!" I roll my eyes.
"Fun? Spare me!" I sling my bag and the materials backpack onto his chest and let them fall when his arms catch them. "What a scene."
"I shot in front," I say — at both of them — reiterating to Gael as I pass him. "Two spoiled kids playing cowboy."
"Wait, Bella—" I turn, sulking. Nicholas places my materials in Gael’s arms, takes two long strides, and scoops me up. "I know you’re tired; I’ll take you."

Okay, I don’t stop him.
That doesn’t mean I forgave the childish stunt.
"Don’t make it easier for yourself; know that it’s the least you can do to make amends."
He laughs on the way to the car.

(...)
POV Nicholas:

In forty-eight hours I board for Dubai. I allow myself to calculate the torture: seventy-two hours prevented from smelling her, from tasting her dark skin, from kissing her sweet mouth — and if that weren’t enough, sleepless nights, because sleeping with Raica every night, as well as having dinner and showering together, has become the best part of my day. An addiction. A drug. It’s impressive — I’ve kept this routine for a week and it feels like I’ve lived it my whole life. I rarely used the media room to watch anything — a movie, for example — but this week Raica convinced me to watch a dorama; me… hilarious! Nicholas Whitmore, a convinced worshiper of nightlife, at home watching a Korean drama. It’s laughable, right?

My sun.

The girl brought light into the gray apartment; new colorful cushions occupy the sofa, various flowers give the place pep and perfume that perfectly described my inner state. Little by little I feel distant from the bad emotions. I still can’t name my feelings; I’m afraid of being unfair. I let my body speak for me while my heart races a thousand miles an hour in my chest. It’s her — it must be. Bella is the key.

"Come on, are you messing with me? Going already?"
"Yes!" I shut my laptop.
"The governor’s son is here." Deloy slaps the table.
"I don’t have patience for that playboy."

I put on my jacket, slipping the red suede packet into the inner pocket, then grab the motorcycle keys.
"I put my ass on the line for you to live your honeymoon."
"You put yourself on the line because you want to. We pay promoters to butter up clients; if you want to do it yourself, be my guest — I’m out."
"But I did enjoy fucking the magnates’ daughters." I circle the table quickly and stop in front of him.
"You did." I don’t waste my time. "Fuck, Brizz, I thought you’d be happy to expand your harem."

I walk to the door, but I’m stopped from leaving.
"Are you stuck in a fake, pointless engagement?"
"Who said I’m stuck?"

Deloy looks surprised; losing patience, I leave him to his thoughts. Our last clash shook our friendship — now we only talk as necessary to keep a working partnership. But I don’t want him as close as before; something broke, and I don’t have the energy to fix it right now.

I greet a few people on the way out and, without lingering, reach my motorcycle and ride toward my apartment. I can’t wait to get home and feel Raica’s youthful energy. I even miss the meow of the furball.

I park in my spot and take the elevator straight to the penthouse. I enter the apartment and Leda greets me with a kiss on the cheek, telling me Raica went to the media room an hour ago and chose to wait for me for dinner.
"I’ll shower; have dinner served in the media room in forty minutes."
"Yes, dear. Nick… it’s good to see you like this."
"Like what?"
"Happy, son."

I give her my best smile and climb a few steps, but I stop at her next comment.
"Your mother called me today, since you ignore all her calls."

I huff. Sooner or later I’ll be forced to explain this situation with Raica before my mother lands in Brazil and discovers the context of the arrangement on her own.
"I’ll call her tomorrow, I promise."
"Do that, before she randomly calls the company and unloads her sweet way of being on the girl."