Page 35 of Into the Light

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0 from Charlotte.

The baby wasn’t mine.

I quickly scanned through the texts first. Adriana was in panic mode, my mother worried, and Rocky was worried at first but then started sending me videos of girls getting fingered by other girls; I had to admit I was slightly amused, but unfortunately they did nothing for me. Elijah sent me some Paulo Coelho quote about survival. My father’s words were simple; he told me to do whatever it is was I needed to do. It was odd. It’s like I expected him to tell me to man up and that he didn’t raise a pussy like me.

Dressed in business attire, a far cry from the awful-looking fishermen gear I sported only a few days ago, I made my way into the conference room and delivered my speech on autopilot when my name was called. With a round of applause I finished, my concentration on Victoria who was seated a few rows back. Of course she would be here, but I still hadn’t managed to speak to her since that infamous night in my suite. I walked down the steps and made my way to where she was seated.

“Come with me,” I whispered in her ear.

She followed my lead so I pulled her aside, away from prying eyes. I wanted to apologize for what happened but I also wanted to forget. The deserted hallway was perfect, I just needed to forget…to move on. I placed my hands on her blouse toying with her buttons. She pulled my hand away, gently.

“Lex...” her voice lingering. “You don’t want to do this.”

I looked into her eyes. She was wrong... I had to do this... I needed to do this, make me forget Victoria; make me forget that Charlotte is carrying another man’s baby. That I meant nothing to her, that she fucked him then she fucked me. Make me forget that she is tainted, that another man’s touch is engrained and growing inside her. Make me forget that we could never be together, that I will forever have to look at this baby and realize I was second best. Make me forget that Charlotte ever existed.

“Honey, whilst I would like nothing more than to have your cock in my mouth, this isn’t what you want. I’ve never been what you want.”

I was surprised by her words; was this reverse psychology? This wasn’t the Victoria I knew. I continued to stare at her oddly, her behavior throwing me off.

“We play this cat and mouse game but the reality is you love her. Lex Edwards actually loves another human being.” She laughed holding onto my chest. “Lex, go and make this right. This is not you. This is not the strong confident ballsy Lex that pushes my buttons beyond all recognition, who is also is a genius in the business world.”

“She doesn’t want me,” I mumbled with my head bowed, my confidence no longer present.

“That’s impossible. No one can resist Lex Edwards. Look at me.” I looked into her eyes, not knowing what I was supposed to be looking for. “You built this empire from nothing. You’ve fought in boardrooms with some of the most powerful men in the business world. You cannot lose this battle, because this battle will be your toughest but with the greatest reward at the end. You understand me?”

I nodded. I did. I think...

“Now let’s go back in there and try to convince the Hanson Group to sell us their shares in the Wilson division,” she said confidently.

Smiling, I followed her back into the room where I found a piece of my old self.

Paris actually turned out to be a great accomplishment. We managed to sign on new business, and of course I was in my element for the week I spent there. It turned out that back-to-back meetings with new investors as well as business expos provided me with the solitude that I was desperate for, but of course all good things must come to an end and once again I found myself alone, at a loss with what to do. I still wasn’t ready to go home so I flipped through my phone and looked for places I wanted to visit. For some reason, Brazil caught my eye. I had been there years ago, for business, but something drew me back. I don’t know what it was, like this pull almost. I booked my flights and the next day I touched down in Rio de Janiero; I was still wondering why I chose to come here.

Wandering the streets of Brazil, I felt like a nomad, alone with no purpose. The bottle of tequila was a permanent fixture in my hand. This city came alive at night, the crowds freely dancing away in the streets, the samba beats echoing through the night. It was easy to get lost in this diversity as I made my way through the streets not really knowing where I was heading to. Women would reach out for me, beautiful women. Offering me their bodies for a night, like that was what I needed. It was hard to resist but as I stared into their blank faces it felt wrong, it was only her face I wanted to see, so I walked away until the noise lessened, finding myself in a quieter part of the city. The buildings looked more worn down, dilapidated even. The crowd looked different now, rougher. They were no longer friendly and were eyeing me with caution, almost on guard like I was a threat. I saw the neon light flashing and entered the bar; the tequila was running low.

Inside the music was more somber, the bar not too full, just a bunch of drunks drinking away their worries. I pulled a seat up and asked for a shot. The man beside me patted me on the back like he was my long lost friend. I motioned to the bartender that all drinks were on me, throwing a wad of cash onto the bar. The fear was no longer apparent as the crowd cheered saluting me then going about their own business. The drinks kept coming and my vision became more blurred, the man, my new best friend, spoke to me in Portuguese, telling me about all the pussy he had fucked this week. This story, somewhat entertaining, provided me with the welcome distraction I desperately needed.

But then he went quiet.

And my mind allowed itself to think.

I wanted to beat the living shit out of him for touching her, for implanting this baby inside her.

I didn’t want him near her.

I wanted him dead.

I fumbled for my cell, the screen was jumbled. I think there was a text... I wasn’t sure. Where is Tony’s number? FUCK I needed the mafia now...

My friend slid over another bottle of tequila. That worm, shit I never thought that I could drink that worm. But I fucking did.

What was I doing again…?

The bottle was empty. I realized that I ran out of cash, or the cash no longer sat in my pocket. I fumbled for more, realizing that it was all gone, I had been robbed. Panicking, I placed my hand over the secret pocket in my jacket, the relief washing over me as the plastic card still remained. Thank God for my Amex.

It was time to leave, so I stumbled out of the bar with my friend in tow. As the door opened I squinted, the light was so bright. I checked my watch but it was only 3am. No sun yet, so what the actual fuck? As my eyes adjusted to the light I immediately recognized the ‘Christ the Redeemer’ statue overlooking Rio de Janeiro, but the light that came off it was so bright it hurt, almost stinging my eyes. I asked my friend why so bright but he laughed and told me it always lit up at night and rambled on about Jesus being his savior, but this was not some little light; it shone directly at me. I asked him again, he laughed once more telling me the tequila was making me see things – that worm inside the bottle had a way of poisoning the mind. Yeah, so I was beyond intoxicated, that had to be why my imagination was playing tricks on me.

The warm air greeted us outside and I tried to ignore the light, that was until this little girl caught my attention. Her father was holding her hand; odd, I thought, to be on the streets at 3am. She looked small, her clothes tattered and her hair a wild mess of brown curls. She complained like a little brat to her father until I realized what she was saying. She complained about the light, the way it shone so bright it hurt her eyes. I turned around and ran to her side. Kneeling down to her level, I asked her if she saw that too, and she nodded. Almost instantly her father pulled her away, cursing at me and scolding her for talking to a stranger. She cried as he pulled her away, his voice speaking fast in their native language, until I heard the name Carla. Isn’t that Charlotte in Spanish?


Tags: Kat T. Masen Romance