Traffic

Chapter 4

His uncles were also in the living room, drinking and discussing business quietly; this bored him a lot. He sighed and finished his drink in one gulp. He wanted to sleep, so he needed to go to his room.

However, he wasn't sure that he could fall asleep after his discovery. The possibility that Elena was there to be his wife was so high that he liked it. But that meant that she was aware of everything, didn't it? And if that was true, why was she behaving so proud and stubborn? Why did she offend him? He felt restless.

"Alejandro, why is Elena here?"

"What do you mean?" he looked at him smiling.

"Don't act like you know nothing" he sighed, "Your... tactic is really obvious."

"Don't be a fool" Thomas growled; he was a bit drunk.

"I'm not sure that I understand your question, Jack" Alejandro smiled calmly.

"Did you bring Elena so I marry her?" he shot the question.

"No" they both said at the same time.

"I don't believe it" he sighed, "You've done it before", he cleared, remembering the Russian girl with long legs, cold character, numb, a nightmare of a woman.

"Evinka was a mistake, I admit" he smiled.

"If that girl knows why she's her for" he ignored his elusive answer, "I must say

she is very unsatisfying as a future wife."

They looked at him surprised. Alejandro was particularly offended.

"Come on, Jack" he scolded him, "I didn't raise you which such primitive ideas about women" he was frowning, "You can't expect Elena to be like the other women."

"That's not what I meant" he was clearly blushing; he said the wrong thing.

"Not even I express that way" Thomas said and poured himself another drink, "And I am the macho in this family."

"What I meant is" he cleared his throat, "Did you bring Elena here to be my wife?"

"Unbelievable" Thomas laughed.

"Elena us here as our guest, Jack" Alejandro confirmed, "As we explained before, she is here because your uncle and me are the last family that she has, and you as our nephew have the task to make her feel as comfortable as possible."

"That's not what I asked" he gave him a frustrated look.

He knew she had no more family, and that made him feel connected to her in a way that he didn't understand. But he noticed how his uncle was elusive to answer.

"I'm telling you the truth, my nephew" he sipped the last of his drink, "Our intention is not to have you marry her" he lied, "We're just asking you to take care of her. If by any chance things worked between you, well, it'd be perfect" he smiled mischievously, "But from the first encounter you had at dinner, I think that will be hard."

"It was her fault. That brat is very arrogant."

"If that's what you think" Alejandro whispered, satisfied with what he said.

He felt more relaxed to see how well things were going; he looked at Thomas, who seemed amused. He knew this was the best; if they wanted that things between them grew fast, they had to act quickly and discreetly.

"Jack, you better go sleep" Thomas ordered looking at his almost empty glass, "Tomorrow you'll have a very busy day; you have to show Elena around the house and keep an eye on her."

"I know" he growled and got on his feet. He sipped the bottom of his whisky and put the glass on the table.

"Good night, Jack" Alejandro smiled.

"Yes, whatever..." he babbled and started going up the stairs.

"I wish you luck, nephew! You'll need it!"

Jack growled again when he heard that. It'd be a hard day, and the problem wouldn't be to take care of an arrogant brat; the problem was that he liked the young girl more than he dared to show. His desire kept him terrified.

There was a good reason. The girl's temper just got worse. He smiled; he could get along with her. After all, he was older. He had much experience with women; they all worked the same way. He would make her change her attitude.

He suddenly stopped walking when he realized something.

"How am I going to achieve that?"

***

Thomas got up from the table with his drink still in his hand. He seemed calm, but

he wasn't. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"Go ahead..." Alejandro urged him, "He's in his room already; Elena must be asleep. You can complain freely."

He looked at his brother maliciously and swinging his glass without drinking.

"I don't complain, brother" he smiled again, though he didn't have a reason to smile, "I just have an advice for you."

"An advice from you?" he laughed ironically, "You never give advice."

"Oh, of course I do."

The other brother stood up and prepared to hear what he would say. He knew it would be something bad. He knew his brother very well. Thomas came near him. His eyes were fixed in the glass, and when they looked at his brother, the horrible sneer on his face vanished.

"You know quite well what we're risking here."

"I do."

"Perfect. I'm glad you do" he paused. His eyes were glowing with an evil so cold that Alejandro could feel it piercing his soul, "Then explain to me why you were so affectionate before" he spat at him, squeezing the glass hard.

"What's wrong with that?" he shrugged confidently, "We're supposed to make Jack believe that we are the loving and caring godfathers of her, so I don't see any problem in treating her like my actual goddaughter."

"She's not your damn goddaughter!" he finally lost his temper and threw the glass against the wall, "She's here to marry that i***t! So we can keep the inheritance money! Have you forgotten?"

"Of course not..." he whispered; his throat was dry. He would never forget that fact.

"Then, brother, I suggest that you don't repeat that display" he shot him a furious look. He had a killer gaze, "And stop feeding ideas to Jack!"

"Thomas, can't you see?" he smiled amused, "He likes her! I only gave him a push" he put down his glass on the table and went to the living room, "And thank you for the advice, I'll keep it in mind."

"You better do it" the other spluttered. He was so angry that he gave a big gulp directly from a bottle. When he gave up to anger, the situation always ended in tragedy.

Alejandro sighed, relieved. He knew that by now, everything was fine, but he was worried about how long it would stay fine. He was hoping that in the meantime Jack and Elena would become closer. He was very aware of the plan, but he was worried about the feelings he had for her; he wanted to protect her from his brother, he wanted that Jack took her far away from that house of horror. But he couldn't betray his brother, not even if he deserved it.

He would have to play along and pretend to be a happy family, not only for his safety, but for Jack and Elena's safety, the weird girl that awakened the human inside him.

***

He was lying on his favorite sofa, holding a book that he wasn't reading, and his mind was wandering around tormenting memories. Jack was convinced that Elena was there to be his wife. It was so typical from his uncles; despite Alejandro's explanation, he was still confused.

"They never do something without having hidden intentions" he told himself.

The Bailey brothers weren't bad people, but sometimes they acted in such strange ways that made him believe the opposite.

He had to know the truth. His uncles were evading his questions. What could he do? Lay in bed with a million questions that keep him sleepless? Or be brave and ask the girl why was she living there?

If she was there to marry him, why was she acting like that? Unlike the Russian girl ... he shuddered. That horrible woman tormented him for two weeks. She followed him around asking him to go to her snowy country with her and insisting every night in sleeping together.

The worst part was seeing how she treated Lisa; she always was barking orders at her disdainfully. He was horrified when the girl's parents took over the house and announced they wouldn't leave until there was a wedding date established.

He remembered his uncles doing nothing to help him; they just smiled a lot and toasted the new family. Fortunately, he could get rid of everyone. It took an investigation on the girl, who was photographed in a night club in Russia; in the photos, she was with other three brunette girls and three waiters in some kind of private room—all of them were naked and posing in such obvious positions that nobody quibbled.

Now, analyzing the possibilities was frustrating. The Evinka season happened a couple years ago; after that, his uncles brought two more women with the same objective. They were identical: cosmetic surgery-beauties with money whose only purpose was getting in his bed and trapping him in marriage.

And then Elena came. She was a rich girl who—he noticed after observing her from head to toe and holding her in his arms—hadn't gone through surgery. She wasn't impudent and tacky like the others. She didn't try to get in his bed, or take him to hers, though he was a bit disappointed about this.

But what really made her different from any other woman that he met, was how incredibly attractive he found her. He felt an electric wave running through his spine and stopping and concentrating in his crotch.

Sharing such a tragic loss with her increased it in so many levels that he couldn't explain. On one hand, there were suspicions, but Elena's attitude didn't match the previous experiences. Was she there because she really was alone? Was she that lonely? He swallowed the bitter knot in his throat. He was alone too.

Despite his doubts, he wanted Elena to treat him right, he didn't want to fight, and, specially, he wanted her to call him by his first name. He would have to act like a gentleman to achieve this; well, he already was a gentleman. But when she was present with all her sensuality and eroticism, he went crazy. It would be difficult for him.

"Stubborn brat ..." he whispered, angry at the stream of feelings that flooded him.

He just wanted to talk to her before going to bed; he wanted to apologize if he still

had the chance. He walked to her door determined. He didn't care if it was let or if she was asleep. When she got there, he grabbed the doorknob and spun it slowly; he was surprised to know that it was unlocked.

He opened the door silently; the room was dark, she must be asleep already. He turned on the light and saw the empty bed.

It was perfectly made, without signs of someone laying on it.

"Where is she?"

He went to the bathroom; she wasn't there. Where did she go? He went back to his room; he felt like a fool. He knew she wouldn't enter his room again, but he wanted her to do it. He was angry; how dare she cause him such strange emotions. Now he was worried for her.

He growled exasperated to push aside his thoughts. He checked every room in the second floor; every room was empty. He was about to inform his uncles about his goddaughter's disappearance when he saw light coming from the library door.

He walked slowly and opened the door. The room was empty. He turned off the table lamp; he saw some books lying on the floor.

He crouched down to pick them up, cursing the perpetrator, when he noticed one of the attached to a white hand. His eyes went wide, scared; he turned on the lamp and fight not to scream—Elena was buried in a pile of books!

We removed the books quickly one by one until he could see her, her beautiful face, her mouth that put him in place, her eyes that looked at him with such tenacity and stubbornness, her body that drove him mad. He shook his head to regain control; it was important now to find out if she was hurt.

He caressed her face delicately; he was full of tenderness. He never knew he could act like this, but he liked it a lot. She made him feel things that he never felt before.

"Elena..." he called her, his throat dry but she didn't react.

He didn't realize she was sleeping until he observed her; she was sleeping like a log. Her breathing was rhythmic—she must've fallen asleep while reading—he thought, starting to relax.

"Little fool ..." he whispered and removed the last book, "I was worried for you."

He blinked at what he said; he knew he said is wholeheartedly. But why? He took her in his arms and went out of the library. He crossed the corridor with her still sleeping; he felt weak when Elena cuddled in his chest and sighed.

He swallowed hard and walked faster. He smiled at feeling her weight; he had never done something like this. He opened the door and put her on the bed. He moved her so she was in the middle and went back to the library to order the books. He turned the lights off and closed the door.

He went back to her room and found her in the same position; she hadn't moved an inch. He smiled and went near her; he stroked her cheek. She rolled and sighed.

"Jack..." she said, dreaming.

He was paralyzed. Are you joking? He told himself; his shoulders sank. He felt a mix of anger and perplexity that was wrinkling his face. He turned the night lamp on and looked at her; she was sleeping. Though, he hated that she made him feel vulnerable; he

took a deep breath and calmed down. He looked at her body; she was still wearing the clothes he saw on the bed.

Damn, that doesn't help... —he told himself trying to get rid of the images in his mind.

Hearing her calling his name in her sleep made things worse. He decided it was better to leave and talk to her in the morning. He went nearer to look at her. He took her boots off, covered her with a blanket and kissed her forehead.

When he saw his uncle doing this he felt furious, and he didn't understand that, neither why he was being so careful, why he left the door open when he left, his room's door too.

"I'm doing it just in case ..." Jack said to convince himself.

He turned off his lights and sat back on his sofa.

He couldn't understand why he was willing to sleep now that he saw Elena; he knew he would sleep tight. He closed his eyes with a smile trimming his face.

***

Between four and five in the morning, light spread around the house. Elena opened her eyes; she felt her eyelids heavy. She must have slept s couple of hours of less.

She focused her gaze; everything was dark. She stretched her hand out and turned a lamp on; she was in her room. How did she get here? She remembered being on the library's floor, sitting with a dozen of books on her. She fell asleep when she was reading. How did she manage to wake up in her room?

"Oh no, I'm a sleepwalker."

She laughed at her silly idea; she didn't sleepwalk. At least she hoped she didn't. The most logical explanation was that she woke up because she was uncomfortable on the floor, and went to her bed, though she didn't remember doing that at all and she was paranoid. The other explanation was...

"That someone carried me here" she said.

It was most likely; one of her godfathers found her in the library. She sat on the bed. She realized a blanket covering her.

"It must have been Alejandro, he's so sweet to me" she said smiling. The gesture of tucking her in like a father made her feel melancholic.

Her boots were also gone, she noticed. She remembered the time when her parents were recently dead; she didn't cry because she didn't know what to think. It wasn't because she didn't love them; far from it, she loved them more than anything else in the world.

Spending so much time by herself didn't make her shed one tear. She knew that her parents didn't hate her. They loved her and took care of her. If that wasn't true, she would be completely alone, with no one to protect her. That's why when she knew that she had two godfathers in the country, she decided to find them. She was really surprised when they asked her to live with them; they told her that there was nobody waiting for her

in the city, and though the words were cruel, they were true.

"Dad" she whispered, smiling, "Alejandro reminds me a lot of you" she stretched and got off bed, "I hope we can get along better; I know that you and mom want me to be happy. I promise I will be a good girl" she paused, "And I'll never again make a scene like last night" she finished, feeling fresh embarrassment.

She went in the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror; she didn't look good. She stuck out her tongue at her own reflection and went out. She thought she could still sleep a couple of hours. She changed her clothes for a two pieces pajama and jumped back to bed; then she noticed that the door was open.

She went to the door feeling curious, and instead of closing it, she stood on the threshold; the corridor was still dark, and Jack's door in front of hers was open.

"Is he awake already?" she asked herself.

She could've gone back to bed instead of investigating why his door was open, but she didn't. She crossed the corridor and entered the room without making noise. A lamp beside the bed kept the room dimly lit. She looked at the bed, and it was empty.

"How weird..." she whispered, yawning.

She blinked; she was still drowsy and had to go back to her room, but where was him? She looked in the bathroom, but he wasn't there either. Fatigue was winning; she had a long fifteen hours trip, and she hadn't had more sleep than the few hours in the library.

She must go back to her room, but his bed looked very comfortable. She didn't think there would be a problem; after all, Jack wasn't there. She climbed on the bed, cocooned in a blanket, and fell quickly asleep.

His intentions weren't evil; she didn't find it inappropriate to sleep in man's bed when the man is not in the bed. That was the way she thought, always considering the practical side of situations. She was wrong, however; what she did would bring her more consequences than she could imagine.

***

"I knew it" the younger Bailey brother said. He wasn't boasting; he was just making his point clear.

Alejandro stretched out. He'd been for more than eight hours in the office; he had a backlog of work. His office was a regular one, with a desk, a wall covered with books, beautiful paintings and expensive artworks; a mini bar with the owner's favorite liquor, phone, fax, and a late model computer.

This was a mask. Behind all the simplicity, a shady and horrible lifestyle full of secrets and manipulations was hidden. He sighed as she finished a bunch of office paperwork. Now he would finish another issue.

He stood up and approached a painting; it was a portrait of Jack's mother. He looked at it for some seconds; she was so beautiful. He missed her a lot; Claudia had been a good friend ever since they met.

He looked at the portrait one more time and took it from the wall. Underneath, there was a screen on which he put his hand to be scanned and keyed in a number. After some bips and noises, a gate slit open at the right of the board.

He put the portrait back on the wall and went in through the gate. The place was well lit by dozens of screens, each of which showed a different area of the house; they were security surveillance cameras. Unlike regular security cameras, these were set in every room of the mansion, in the corridors and yards; in the garden, in every bathroom, in the kitchen, and in the living room. The Bailey brothers didn't take any risks.

He got near and looked at them. In front of the screens, there was a seat. The room looked like a secret agents movie set; there were screens, lights, computers and other gadgets in there. He put some passwords in a nearby laptop; one of his tasks was surveillance and security.

He had become a good spy. He clicked on the keyboard some more and the same image flooded all of the screens. It was a recording of everything that happened today. He wanted to know if the guys had omitted any important detail.

He clicked on Start and, like a hunting falcon, started analyzing the weird and morbid video.

***

Jack opened his eyes when he felt something weird. He got up from the sofa and looked at the door. It was still open.

He thought he heard something, but apparently it was nothing. He sighed, feeling relieved for some reason, and went in the bathroom. He drank a glass of water and looked at his watch. It was too early to start his activities.

He decided to sleep some more, but his time he would sleep in his bed. His neck was aching from sleeping on the sofa. He turned off the lights, went to his bed and lifted the covers. Everything was dark, but he knew his room perfectly, so he didn't have any problem.

He lay down and fluffed up the pillow, put the blanket over him to be warm, and closed his eyes. He fell asleep almost immediately, but had a series of strange dreams. He was sure he smelled Elena's perfume near him; every time he breathed the air was full with her fragrance. He knew this was impossible, so he decided he was dreaming, which was the cherry on the cake; now she was affecting his dreams.

Maybe Jack was as absent-minded as her, or probably it was because it was dark and the lamp was off that he didn't notice that he wasn't dreaming with her, but actually sleeping with her.

"Damn alarm..." he whispered with a hoarse voice.

He awoke at the roar of the alarm. He opened his eyes heavily. This was the first time he slept feeling in peace, something that he didn't remember doing before. It was a shame that he didn't deactivate the thunderous alarm clock.

Despite wanting to continue dreaming peacefully, he got up, dismissed the alarm,

and went back to the bed.

He did all of these with his eyes half closed, so when he got in bed again he felt a bulk which he thought was a pillow. He hugged it.

"Feels good..." he told himself.

Everything was silent. The pillow was more comfortable than he thought, and very bulky, and smelled sweet ...

Wait, smelled sweet? He took a slow, deep breath; his pillows had never smelled that good. He pressed against the pillow and felt its softness; it was bulky, especially in the place he was holding. He never thought a pillow could feel like breasts. He heard a moan. A moan?

He opened his eyes in surprise, but he couldn't see much in the dark room. He waited some seconds; he heard nothing. He sighed relieved and closed his eyes again. It must've been his imagination.

He let it go and pressed himself against the pillow even more, holding it tighter. He didn't remember the last time he felt such pleasure. What was going on?

He was starting to feel confused; he felt the pillow with all his body. He never had such a long pillow; he could feel it with his feet. Was that possible?

"Mmm..."

Well, that made an alarm go off; someone was in his bed. Who was it?

He reached out for a lamp and turned it on; he focused his sight and opened his eyes as plates. This couldn't be true. Elena was sleeping on his bed, but that was not everything; what he thought he was holding was not a delicious fluffy pillow—it was the girl, more specifically, the girl's breasts.

That's why she was moaning. But what was she doing in his bed?