Chapter 1 The Proposal

• When your life crumbles, you feel the need to ask yourself if you will be able to rebuild it again.
• It is noble to rise from a great fall, but… What if instead of just getting back up, you are just propping everything up?
• When you prop something up, there is still the danger of collapse.
• Just one day… one single, simple day after burying my parents, the bank called demanding that I leave my house within the next two days unless I paid the mortgage arrears, which was one of the many pending expenses I had. Bills were piling up and so were the "I don't have the means to pay" statements.
• We were drowned in extreme poverty before my father got sick and with no family to turn to for help. Classic!
• My parents tried to be the best parents one could wish for and probably succeeded, as my only complaint about them was this, that they had left me alone and on the street. But sometimes, being fabulous parents doesn't exempt your children from the cruel battles life forces them to face.
• However, I wasn't going to blame them for something they didn't want to happen and were definitely not aware would happen… Who the hell in their right mind could think something like this would happen?
• My father's hospital expected me to pay a sum of money I didn't have, and the insurance company of the person my mother crashed into and who caused her death and left someone else in the hospital, expected compensation I couldn't afford, as I didn't even have insurance anymore.
• I had been working for two years at a shady bar at night, but it paid well enough to sustain the miserable life we were living.
• But when you think your life is already bad, it shows you that it can get worse, that it was just showing you a preview of how merciless it can be if you dare to complain.
• I was beautiful, I knew it, and I hated it. Being beautiful can be a blessing for many and a tragedy for some.
• There wasn't a single flaw in my perfect body, yet that curse led me to the most repulsive proposals of my life.
• Men only wanted to experience my body, women loathed my beauty, and at the end of it all, I was left as the owner of all this perfection that only made me miserable because it didn't bring me anything positive.
• I had become accustomed to seeing my life in a negative light. Or perhaps it was the correct way to see the obvious.
• I had no idea where to go. When I had to leave my house in two days, I had nowhere to go. Not a miserable idea of how to solve it.
• When you have so much shit to deal with, all you can smell is stench and rot.
• —Lore, you can stay with me for at least a week. I'll talk to him...
• My only friend offered me a place to stay at her house, but I couldn't accept. And the fact that she knew it and still proposed it made me happy. At least I had someone giving me a helping hand, even though I couldn't take it.
• As extreme as my situation was, I was sure that I couldn't burden my problems onto my friend, and if I accepted her offer, I would only be complicating her life. When the first situation with her husband arose, I would feel guilty, and deep down, I would be, simply for seeking refuge in someone who had needed refuge for a long time… I just couldn't see it.
• While she drank coffee at the only café near our workplace, I watched her try to help me, when both of us knew it wouldn't be possible, and my heart filled with tenderness. I adored her, and we had always been there for each other, but this time, I had no choice but to solve my problem without her help, although I loved having her support.
• Her husband was my boss, the owner of the damn rundown place where I worked.
• He was a violent and petty man, and I knew I could never live without confronting him and reporting his abuses to Patricia. She would have more problems than she already had, and I would be the cause of more pain for both of us. I would end up losing our friendship, and I couldn't afford that. Although it might be a bit pessimistic on my part, it was quite likely.
• —I can't do it, Patricia, and you know it —I whispered honestly as we held hands and looked at each other, complicit and sad, expressing our empathy and unease —. I have to accept that old man's proposal.
• My confession frightened her. A disgusting client from the bar had offered me a job as an exotic dancer at private parties in his house, which disgusted me but came with good cash and I was seriously considering it.
• I didn't have many options, and even though I could perhaps leave town, I didn't want to leave Patricia alone with that man who could kill her at any moment. Plus, she was the only family I had, and there wasn't much money to be found in this small town.
• "No, Loreine, don't do that," she let go of my hands and covered her tearful face with hers.
• The possibility scared her as much as it scared me. We loved each other, and we had been through so much together that her pain was mine and vice versa.
• Since we were little, we had been dreaming together, but life had forced us to live so many nightmares that we didn't dream anymore; everything was just so gray, and all we saw was reality.
• —Don't feel bad, sweetheart — I whispered with a half-smile on my lips —. I'll figure it out.
• I lied, and she knew.
• —Go home. It's late, and he'll get angry —I said.
• How I hated not being able to convince her to leave that man. How I hated not being able to open her eyes wide enough. How I hated life, damn it, how I hated it.
• She kissed my forehead and squeezed my shoulders before leaving, leaving me alone with my coffee, tasting like loneliness.
• —Excuse me, miss —an exhausted waiter interrupted me to give me a note written on a fine card that smelled like a millionaire —. That man left you this card and paid your bill. He invites you to join him if you want to.
• I looked confusedly at the table the boy pointed to, and with a nod for him to leave, I was left wondering what to do with that man with blue eyes who was staring at me, resting his chin on his clenched fists on the table.
• I must say his gaze was cold. Very cold. Almost freezing. And there was no visible sign of recognizable interest in his gestures, which were almost nonexistent.
• However, I knew that men generally don't approach a woman for nothing. And I wasn't in the perfect moment of my life to be romantic and in love. Maybe like if this was the case, with this guy.
• Breaking eye contact with him, I lowered my gaze to the table and took the card the boy had left. It was black, with flawless penmanship on the back of a perfect original print with information on the front.
• "Alexander McGregor"… I savored his name in my mind and the rest of the information there became invisible to me when I could see in the handwriting of that powerful-looking man an invitation to see him the next day in his office. It also indicated, with complete authority, that it would not be in my best interest to miss that appointment. That I dared not to going.
• Perhaps it was his intense gaze, or my tendency to be easily influenced, but that proposition bothered me a lot. Suddenly, I felt invaded, watched, harassed by someone who, if they wanted to approach me, was doing so in a disturbing way, and I never believed that there could be any other reasons.
• It may have been my mistake. I acknowledge that… I should have analyzed the fact that he gave me such a tacit order without apparent motivations, but I didn't.
• The point is, I got up annoyed at the possibility of being approached in an undelicate manner by this peculiar stranger, whom I could only think might have seen me at the club one night, even though he didn't seem like the type of customer at that place, and now he wanted to approach me with a sense of power.
• —Are you alright? —the friendly-faced, somewhat elderly man who was standing next to him hurried to ask me when I stumbled just before reaching the table where his boss, who seemed to be waiting for me, was sitting. I hadn't even noticed that gentleman. Against my will, I must admit that his power overwhelmed me and I couldn't help but see myself reflected in his blue eyes. His confident demeanor was even insulting.
• —I'm fine, thank you — I responded sweetly to the man and walked towards the owner of the card that was still spinning between my fingers. I was nervous and annoyed —.I would like to know the reasons that led you to pay my bill and leave me your card— I paused to take a deep breath, a little intimidated by his curt demeanor —...making me feel as if I look like a prostitute and only have to call to give you my price for a service.
• His gaze roamed over my disheveled appearance and slowly returned to my eyes… He took his time. And didn't move a muscle.
• —Neither do you look like a prostitute nor do I look like a pimp —his voice chilled me to the bone.
• It was a mix of cold and heat. Ice and flames. Desire and hatred, which made his tone intriguing. And that strong jaw and thick lips promised me passion, it was maddening to see him up close. He had taken two careful steps towards me, I hadn't even noticed him standing up. I was completely captivated.
• —Here's your card.
• I pressed it against his chest with a strong blow and almost gasped at how solid it was behind that black and elegant suit. And tall. I had to look up to meet his eyes.
• —Keep it. I want you to come to my office tomorrow and the address is there.
• He took my hand in his to separate it from his torso and I pulled it away suddenly. I felt like I could have a heart attack just from my body's reaction to his touch. That man was more than dangerous and I needed to run miles away from him.
• —I don't like strangers touching me, no matter how they are. I just don't like being touched…
• —Why should I go see you anywhere?
• My voice was firm and the card was still in my hand, extended towards him. I was intrigued by his sudden approach but at the same time, it scared me. Although I wasn't planning to show it.
• —Because I have a proposition for you, miss. I know you won't refuse it. You can't, and I won't give you the option— what an arrogant guy.
• —I don't like how you're talking to me at all.
• I put the card in the inner pocket of his suit, in a daring gesture, and before turning around to leave, I said —I won't accept anything from a stranger. Stay away from me and take— I took out the only money I had brought to pay for the coffees —here's your money.
• I slipped it inside his shirt collar and turned to leave, but his hand gripped my wrist and I felt him close to my back and my ear.
• —You owe me money… a lot, and I assure you that this is nothing compared to what you'll have to pay me.
• His words made me furrow my brow, and forcefully pulling my wrist out of his fingers, I got angry and demanded…
• —Who the hell are you and what do I owe you if I don't even know you?
• He took out the card again, extended it towards me, and responded arrogantly while lifting his collar with power and arrogance.
• —Come to my office tomorrow and get to know me.
• He left, taking advantage of the shock he had left me in, with his attitude screaming from all sides that he had something that could make my life even more complicated.
• I could only watch as the car left there, right in front of my eyes, and when I finally saw his name on the card, I felt furious to see that he had also returned the money.
• Alexander McGregor… That was his name, and he was also the buyer of the most important thing I had.
• Except I didn't know that yet.