☾• 𝐑 𝐀 𝐑 𝐄 𝐒 𝐙 •☽
I was going insane.
Yes, I really was.
It's been two weeks and Kamaria barely responds to text messages and phone calls.
She's clearly not techno savvy, probably inclined to the old generation methods of communication.
Hence why, I spent most of my morning in the office, drafting her a love letter.
Shit, this was actually stupid.
I cancelled the cursive text once again, threading my hands through my hair. I just wasn't good at this shit, and Google wasn't really helping. If she could figure out my typical phrases, what makes me think she wouldn't know a letter plagiarised from the Internet? She seemed very intelligent and I didn't want to risk my chances.
I was in the middle of starting over when I heard a knock on my door, and pressing the Do Not Disturb button on my digital table, the door reflected red to the person behind it.
I immediately received a text from my personal assistant, Mila, telling me that Yves Nicholson was here.
Shit. I completely forgot.
I even forgot that I was up since two am, reviewing his fifty-five page email and writing my own comments and additions on about eight pages in my business diary.
I pressed a button, the door sliding open and she walked in.
"Mila, why didn't you tell me about my schedule?" I asked her without looking up, placing my pen down.
"I did, twice, but you didn't respond Sir." She looked flustered, probably from running.
Checking my phone, I raised my brows in realisation. I had swiped the notification away without thinking twice about what it was.
"Damn, I'm sorry. It's just, do you know how to write a, erh, love letter?" I asked her hesitantly, clearly defeated.
I really was a playboy, and she was really pushing my limits. Making me write a letter in this day and age, it was fascinating, and frustrating.
She was so different it actually bothered me. Something as little as a like on a girl's post normally had them panicking and worshipping me, however, she wasn't like the other girls.
But I wasn't one to give up. I never gave up.
"A love letter? You don't know how to write one?" She looked amused.
"Stop that and come help your boss, please. I'm desperate," I handed her my draft, sighing when she hissed in disapproval.
"You know, a woman's body is not the only thing to compliment, right? It might be her eyes, hair, her fashion style, her hardworking nature, anything. Just appreciate something that doesn't involve her curves or whatever, it's getting old. She's probably heard that before." She smirked, taking my pen and making a list on the back.
"But it's coming from Rareșz Vizcaino, it's different." I smiled, causing her to laugh.
"She probably doesn't even know who you are then. And maybe that's a good thing. It gets tiring to have people be nice to you because of who you are, maybe you can make an actual, private connection if she doesn't know who you are." Mila shrugged, inspecting the empty card with hearts and roses all over the exterior.
"Gotta draft before writing on the final thing," I chuckled, taking back my paper and inspecting the list with a nod.
"I'm surprised to see Rareșz Vizcaino the great worrying over a love letter. I swear if you wanted a good fuck, there are so many girls out there who are constantly praying for your attention." She winked, gesturing her thumb.
"You know me Mila, I love challenges," I said while writing on the final card, the ideas finally flowing, "and this woman is a challenge. I want to see how far we go with this, how long does it take for her to conform."
"Wow, good luck with that then. You've got a long way to go, Mr. Playboy." She eyed my previous draft, causing me to glare at her.
"Shut up Mila." I rolled my eyes while she laughed. Getting up, I tucked the small letter in the large bouquet of red roses. "Please get these delivered to Kamaria, get her work location from Miguel."
"If you actually cared Rareșz, you would deliver them yourse—"
"I wish I could," I didn't even have time to listen to whatever she was about to say after that, "I'm going to meet up with Mr. Nicholson. He's in the boardroom, right?"
"Of course. And I'll get them delivered." She sighed, carrying it with her and leaving my office.
I made my way to the boardroom with my paperwork and diaries, feeling a little nervous about taking the next step in my winery business.
Alcohol was something that I had developed a love for at a tender age. And because I had an inquisitive mind, I found myself wondering how they made it. I found myself comparing brands and slowly growing restless as I craved for more. I was tired of the similar elements, and one night, it came to me. The question.
Why can't you make what you're looking for?
Hence why I started the business two years ago. And I was doing well so far. Social media was a great place to get leverage and make a fan base, but I needed more. I needed to penetrate a different market. Kamaria's market, meaning, those that weren't fond of social media.
And of course, the older generation who had experience with wine.
"Good morning, Mr. Nicholson," I greeted him, noticing a pretty woman beside him.
Yes, Lara Monét. The most influential woman and a self-made billionaire. Every woman looked up to her, wanted to be her, and many wanted her. Even the men didn't rest.
"Mr. Vizcaino, I hope you don't mind me bringing on an extra investor," he gestured to her.
Support from two world billionaires, this was fantastic.
"Not at all. I'm thrilled to have the one and only Lara Monét embarking on our project," I shook her hand. She was gorgeous.
"Absolutely. It's lovely to meet you Rareșz, I've heard about you. You're quite the social media influencer, aren't you?" She smiled, and I was a little surprised to learn that she knew me. Of course, having millions of followers meant that a lot of people you didn't know, knew you.
But I knew Lara, and I followed her. I just never bothered to check if she followed back.
"Something like that. But I'm glad you took interest in my project, I appreciate it." I allowed them to take their seats and I did too, noticing that Mila had already arrayed the best twenty wine variants that I had worked so hard to modify and perfect.
Yves took the royal blue and gold one, pushing it towards me. Lara chose the silver one, clearly challenging her business partner.
"Red wine. Smoky, a delicious malt, this one has so much potential. I loved it." He didn't hesitate to express himself, and I felt my heart flutter.
"White wine. Soft flavours, long-lasting fizz. A strong mocha and toasted coconut, this was my favourite and has more potential." Lara winked, glancing at Yves with a smirk.
"They're great and I'm going to list them down. I want to start promoting them," I scribbled the names on paper. I knew each one of them by head.
"Wonderful. You're quite underrated. I'd recommend you make a wine-tasting event, and get people to come for it. I'm sure your fans would love to meet you. I know I'll be there and I'll bring more entrepreneurs and potential investors," Lara remarked, clearly impressed by my liquor.
"Me too. And remember to be different. Host it in a beautiful place that no one could ever think of, people will appreciate the authenticity." Yves added and I noted that down, feeling grateful for the privilege of having two successful people advising me on how to grow my business.
The meeting lasted for about two hours and once we had finalised everything, we had some breakfast, conversing over funny and random topics before they left. They were a good business bunch and acted like normal humans, having occasional banter and controversial opinions, it was nice to associate myself with them.
I worked throughout the afternoon then Miguel and I went to Izaiah's place to have dinner and watch a soccer match. Going to Izaiah's place didn't mean he was cooking; it meant he looked up a fancy dish on either restaurant menus or saw one on TV, then bought the ingredients for Miguel.
That's how it always worked.
"So did she get your flowers?" Miguel nudged my leg as I reclined the couch.
"I think so. She didn't call or anything," I sighed.
"I think she wants you to come and see her in person, make the effort. You should have delivered the flowers in person, Rareșz. Anyone can deliver flowers, but the fact that you put work aside to make time to see her means something entirely different, she'll appreciate it." Izaiah settled on the floor, eating some dessert.
"This shit is just so hard—"
"For you it is. But if you really want her, you gotta work for it. She isn't like those other lost puppies that are constantly kissing your ass." Miguel slapped my back, tossing me my car keys.
"What if she thinks I'm a creep? Showing up at her house at this ungodly hour," I checked my watch but they both protested.
"You need to show her you care before it's too late. Before we claim our five hundred grand." Miguel smirked while I got up, pulling my hoodie and shoes on.
"If shit goes wrong, you owe me." I warned them and they only laughed.
"Whatever. I'll be eating your share of dessert by the way." Izaiah informed me, causing me to roll my eyes.
Using my maps and the location I managed to get when I researched about her, I was soon parked before a large gate that protected a two-storey apartment after swiftly weaving through traffic. It was a ten minute drive from Izaiah's place.
After tipping the guard to let me in without letting Kamaria know, I parked in am empty spot and exhaled deeply.
I turned the ignition off, staring at the doorway and contemplating whether to go in and ask her apartment number. Or I could call her, but chances of her responding were dismally low.
While having a mental turmoil on what to do next, I caught sight of her walking up the stairs and stopping before a man who had been standing there.
She was holding some grocery bags and I furrowed my brows when she dropped them, about to flee but he quickly caught her arm.
The moment he forcefully gripped her chin, I got out of the car, locking it and sprinting over to where they were.
I pulled him away, my clenched fist colliding with his jaw so hard, he fell flat on the floor, some blood oozing from his nose and mouth.
"If you put your filthy hands on her again, you won't be so lucky next time." I kicked him in the guts as he groaned, choking on the sanguine liquid.
"Oh my, Rareșz. He's my cousin brother—"
"I don't care. He needs to treat you with respect. Fuck off right now, I'm waiting." My tone was full of fury and he got up, his hands raised in surrender.
"Got this hot toyboy to save you from me?" He laughed, backing away as my shoulders broadened, preparing my arms to erase his existence right away.
"Please just leave Adam, he'll hurt you." Kamaria pleaded and he laughed, the nervousness protruding in the sound.
"It's always the famous, rich guys that ruin our lives huh? I'll leave, I'll leave." He moved further away when I moved closer. Once I was certain that he was gone, I finally turned my attention to Kamaria.
"Are you okay, love?" I asked her gently, my hands cupping her cheeks.
"Yes, thank you so much. You didn't have to—"
"No, I had to. I won't tolerate anyone harassing you, okay?" I stared into her eyes, and I was once again reminded that Heaven actually existed.
"He's struggling a lot and usually just wants money, but sometimes I don't have it. So he gets a little… violent, I think he was high. But he's not a bad person, this was the first time—"
"Even if it was the hundredth time, I won't take it at all. I'll fuck him up if I ever discover that he harassed you again." I picked up her grocery bags for her.
She opened the entrance door, leading us up the stairs to a corridor, then pulled out a key from her pocket and unlocked the door to her apartment.
"What are you doing here anyway? It's so late, ten pm." She asked curiously.
"I just came to see you, and make sure you got my parcel." I got into her cosy apartment, placing the bags onto the kitchen counter.
She did. I could see the roses in her vase. And by the looks of it, she had watered them not so long ago. She seems to like them then; it was a comforting thought.
"I did, actually. Thank you so much Rareșz." She beamed. "But you know, every other guy who has ever shown slight interest in me sent roses. It would have been thoughtful to find out what my favourite flower is."
I scratched the back of my head in realisation. She had a point. "How am I supposed to know your favourite flower?"
"Same way you know where I stay, without asking me." She blew me a kiss after closing the door and I smiled, thoroughly amused by her.
"I'll make amends then."
"But I really love them. It's the thought that counts, right?" She grinned, "are you leaving? Because if you are, then now is the time—"
"No. No I, I just want to be here with you, just for tonight. The penthouse gets lonely." I sighed, feeling pathetic already. She made me so nervous, it was utterly ridiculous.
"Okay." She simply replied, turning off the lights in the living room and walking down the dim corridor to probably her room.
I followed behind her, admiring her aesthetic bedroom the moment I entered. It was themed grey and white, a double bed placed in the middle of the room with silk white sheets and a variety of Teddy Bears.
She had a couple of pictures on the wall, a long couch with a velvet fleece, a desk full of her devices and then the door to her closet on the left.
"Who got you this one?" I lifted one Teddy Bear with the inscription 'I Love You' on its chest.
"My ex. I was going to give it away, I'm going to give it to my friend's daughter." She shrugged, opening the sheets then going to her closet.
"Great idea. You don't need it anymore," I tossed it back onto the bed.
"But there's going to be a little void there. I've had that bear for a year now." She called out as I inspected the rest. She was out in a minute, cosy in a long-sleeved, black pyjama top and matching bottoms.
"So, am I joining you baby?" I sat on the bed, pulling her by her arm so she could join me.
"No, Mr. Playboy. You have two options. This couch in here, or the other two bedrooms. Whichever you prefer," I gaped at her remark.
"Are you literally, are you—"
"Yes I am, Mr. Playboy. If we're going to make a connection, we need to abstain until it feels right." She nudged my chest.
God, she was giving me restrictions. And all I wanted to do was push her against the bed and taste her once more. Or I could have her on her knees, taking me like a sweet girl.
"Abstain? And for how long?" I moved to bite her neck softly and she giggled, pushing me away regardless.
"Until our connection is spiritual and genuine. Until our souls intertwine," she placed a hand on my chest, "we're very distant right now. You're elsewhere, very restless and unstable. Too many ties Rareșz."
"Too many ties?" I was fascinated by what she was saying. I couldn't understand anything at all, but I loved listening to her symphonic voice.
"When you sleep with someone, you carry a little piece of them. And you have so many pieces, so that makes you indecisive. If this," she gestured between us, "is meant to be, our pieces will connect. Until then, we're going to get to know each other."
"Wow. How do you know all of this?" I raised my brows.
"I thought you would know everything about me by now, seeing that you found my number and address." She smirked, mocking me once again.
"Smart mouth. Anyway, I'll sleep on the couch, the closest I can be to you and maybe, our pieces will connect while we sleep. I really hope they do." I winked and she laughed so loud, I ended up laughing too.
"Of course, I'm sure they will."