272- Álvaro Munhoz
272- Álvaro Munhoz
POV Raica:
"Hello?"
"Raica, everything okay?"
Gael stands one or two meters away, alert — fuck, zero freedom is what I have. I turn my back, irritated by the invasive look.
"It's Deloy."
"Ah, yes." What does he want? "Did something happen?"
"Yes, your father is here at the club, and…"
"My father?" MY FATHER! "What the hell is he doing there?" The man seems to suck in air.
"Nicholas didn't say…"
"What would he have to say?" My feet are already heading for the parking lot.
"Miss Vásquez, where…?" I completely ignore Gael trying to figure out where I'm going.
"What the bastard my father is doing at UP?" I ask the man on the other end of the line.
"Can you come here? It's complicated to explain over the phone."
"I'm coming."
I hang up and point a warning finger at the security guard's serious face.
"Let's go to UP." He takes out his phone. "Don't you dare warn your boss, otherwise I'll go alone and I won't allow you to follow me, understand?"
The man tightens his jaw and slowly puts the phone away. The despicable idea of my father at UP assaults my system; he would have no reason to be there, would he? I always assume the worst when it comes to that demon. If Nicholas hid this approach, it's because the bastard pulled something serious, and it crushes my heart. On the way to the car, I send a brief message to Isabella explaining my destination in broad strokes.
Friend:
Why didn't you call me? I would have gone with you.
Me:
It's quick; have lunch with your mother and your husband, I'll call as soon as I sort everything out, don't worry about me.
She sends a sad face emoji and an "ok."
I arrive at the club in a few minutes, finding the place strangely empty, since there are usually employees circulating or rehearsing. Gael accompanies me to Deloy's office and offers to go in with me, but I veto it.
"Wait here, please."
The man doesn't approve, but obeys.
"Where's my father?" I ask when I close the door behind me and see only one person in the room.
"He left." Deloy walks around the desk, too calm, leans his body on the front edge and crosses his arms. "He didn't want to wait."
"What is Nicholas hiding from me?" I ask immediately, anxious about the heavy atmosphere of the place. By the way, Deloy Brizz is a heavy guy, full of arrogance even when he tries to be polite. There's a severe line surrounding his blue eyes; the smile that cuts his mouth doesn't seem sincere — it's offhand, biting.
"Your father threatened to sue UP."
"What?" That bastard had the audacity. "With what intention?"
"He wants money. He says he deserves it because of the shame your brother made him endure all this time in front of friends, in society."
I throw my arms in the air; I can't even measure my outrage at this bastard. I feel a sudden acceleration in my chest.
"Did you pay them?"
He lets a slow, lingering look run down my body that I do not like, then takes a cigarette case from his pants pocket, fits a cigarette between his lips and lights it, closing one eye as he inhales the nicotine.
I watch him walk slowly toward a black door that had been imperceptible until then because it matched the wall tone; the smoke floats, marking his trail as he crosses the threshold. I follow him, demanding an answer, since he practically ignores me. I come upon an outdoor space, a kind of luxurious terrace with red leather sofas and a minibar. Deloy leans his back against the parapet, burning the tip of the cigarette with each drag, staring into my eyes while I take in the area.
"You gave in to the son of a bitch's blackmail?" I repeat, full of bitterness.
"I think you deserve to find out a detail about your brother's death."
"I don't understand." Not just what he said, but his funeral expression.
"I could have prevented it, but I didn't."
"You…" The voice dies. I hug my body because a cold wind pierces my already fragile structure, and I slam the door in a violent impulse. "What did you say…?"
He puts out the cigarette with the tip of his polished shoe before fixing his reddish-brown irises on my eyes, full of conflict.
"Munhoz passed by me minutes before going to the parking lot, said he was going to mess with two bitches. I could have stopped him, don't you think?" He lets out a sadistic laugh, doesn't move, just stares at me waiting for my reaction.
I can barely breathe; my body dissolves into fury and pain. A violent wave compresses every muscle, squeezes me as if wanting to bury me alive in the earth. The icy tears fall like drops of pain.
"You bastard…" A thread of voice expresses the blow that punches my chest. "Bastard!" I take a step that weighs a thousand tons; the second one practically disorients my body, and the next places me in front of that scribbled face of evil. "So you always knew who killed my brother?"
He moves his jaw as if chewing the words, tasting the acidic flavor of confession.
"Yes, I was there."
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" The slap turns his face, reddening his white skin; I won't let him recover. I charge at his stone structure wanting to eliminate his infamous existence, punching as hard as I can where I can reach. The bastard doesn't react, he only smiles, amused by my despair.
"I'm going to kill you, you demon!"
"Enough, bitch!"
I am thrown to the ground with a violent slap. I feel the pain of the fall crack my muscles; the man grabs my hair brutally between his fingers, forcing me to face his transformed expression.
The sculpted face of the demon.
"Let me go, you son of a bitch! I'm going to scream, my security guard is at the door."
"Your screams wouldn't reach the other side, whore." He clamps my lower lip between his teeth and bites it; I moan in pain until the taste of blood touches my palate. "Tasty lips, bitch. Your black pussy must be a feast, since Nicholas didn't want to share with anyone. He turned my partner's head; I'm curious to know why."
In a sudden impulse the bastard closes his hand around my neck, preventing me from breathing as he compresses my throat, suffocating me, leaving me weak from lack of oxygen. I do what I can to free myself, thrash and beg for help, trying to overcome the rough movements that tear my panties and violate my body. Tears run cold down my face, in panic.
"I'm going to fuck you, black whore." I want to scream, but I have no voice.
I want to break free, but I have no strength.
"Christ, Deloy, she's ours."
The deep voice comes from the other room, perverse, tenebrous. In the impulse to answer, the demon releases my mouth, and I scream.
"Gael, help—help me—"
"Shut that filthy mouth before the sound reaches the security guard's ass."
"You distracted me, damn it!"
"Bastard…" I murmur through my teeth.
"Shut up, disgusting cow."
Again my face receives another slap, one capable of disorienting my senses for a few minutes, but I recover in time to identify the other man who shadows my body.
Álvaro Munhoz.