Black Beauty - The Arrogant Billionaire

Chapter 4

Arthur Ribeiro

That's how suspicious I felt. Rangel took his time to tell me which agency he got the escort from. The woman who would go with me to these dinners had to be exuberant enough to fool Vargas, to make him dizzy with her beauty. She couldn't just be edible, she had to whet the appetite of everyone who looked at her.

After the mistrust, came the irritation at the "bride's" lateness. I was always punctual and hated waiting. With my advisor on the line, I complained about the woman's eight-minute delay.

"Sir, every minute will be worth the wait. I've just called her on the video and the woman is simply stunning..."

As Rangel spoke, the elevator opened. I confess I couldn't hear a word he was saying, I could only stare at the subtle swivel of the hips in front of me.

"Rangel, is the model by any chance a little sister of color?"

"Yes, she's black, like you. You didn't give me any restrictions, you just told me she had to be hot."

"Stay cool, man, I like what I see." I calmed him down on the cell phone.

I hung up the phone and put on my blazer. I watched the big woman approach. Her clothes were a bit modest, but only a burqa could cover up the huge body of the woman in front of me. As the Colombians used to say: és una noventa sesenta noventa… here we called her hot, a real motherfucker.

Her brown eyes matched the natural tan tone of her skin. Big and expressive, she stopped in front of me with an apologetic look and posture.

"Good evening!" No wonder they used to say that the great defense was attack, this was her way of disguising her tardiness. "Aren't you going to open the door, sir?"

I wouldn't let it go.

"Good evening! Wow, we have an old-fashioned lady. Excuse me, I'm used to equal rights feminists, they don't mind this kind of treatment."

She didn't reply and, as soon as she turned her back, I realized that her clothes weren't that modest. My gaze traveled down the nakedness of her back, wandering with my pupils until I reached a spot right at the curve of her waist, but the neckline continued down to her perfect lordosis. If she had a little more cleavage, I would have been able to see the entrance to the corridor of joy.

I opened the car door, she got in and I closed it. As soon as I got into the driver's seat, I started the car. I would fly to Mr. Lang's Chinese restaurant. I hated delays and would do anything to be on time.

I wouldn't wait for the slowpoke to put on her seatbelt, she should have done so by the time I got into the car. Frightening the woman, I leaned over her, pulling on the wide, thick fabric strap. She smelled good, in fact, very good.

Startled by my unexpected attitude, she shrank back as far as she could, almost merging into the light leather seat, trying to prevent me from touching her, but it was almost impossible. There was a brushing of skin, and if my c**k throbbed inside my pants, I was sure that the n*****s of her breasts were hard with goose bumps.

I buckled my seatbelt, I had to hurry, now was not the time for fun, but for work. Only after dinner would I f**k this b***h.

(...)

Yve de Paula

And I was afraid that the misogynist would recognize me. What a fool! On the day of the interview, he only looked at me when I called him an i***t. Besides, as Rob said, even if he was exaggerating, I was always dressed up as Betty the Ugly.

I was startled when he leaned over me. I was ready to give him a knee, then I realized that he just wanted me to put on my belt.

"Wouldn't it have been better to have asked me?" I thought.

As soon as his skin brushed against mine and I felt his hot breath on me, my body immediately shivered from the rancor I felt towards this man. Fortunately, it was very quick; it was clear that he was in a hurry.

Arthur Ribeiro was driving like a madman. Focused on the traffic and totally silent, he didn't even ask my name. But good, at least I wouldn't have the displeasure of hearing it.

He reached the entrance to the restaurant. When he stopped, a man in a suit promptly waited for Arthur to disembark. I was about to put my hand on the handle to go down, but the man's voice stopped me.

"The valet will open for you as soon as I get off."

"Oh, okay, sorry!" I apologized, "I didn't know."

"Inside, just smile and be nice. Avoid talking as much as possible. At this dinner, you're just a showpiece, as you already are in your modeling profession."

Oh my God! What an i***t!

"All right, you're in charge." Little did he know that he was doing me a favor. I'd probably be surrounded by haughty idiots, so it would be best not to interact.

"Don't call me sir either. You're very different from the models I've used as escorts, most of whom already seem to be intimate with me. Call me by my first name, Arthur."

"Ok, Arthur.”

"What's yours?"

"Paula." I answered and finally Arthur Ribeiro got out of the car.

As he said, the valet opened the car door and so I got out. I straightened my overalls, which had wrinkled a little, and he gave me his arm to enter the restaurant and we headed inside.

(...)

I had once walked past the outside of Mr. Lang's restaurant and had the impression that it was an expensive place. Looking inside, it wasn't just an expensive place, it was a place for tycoons.

All the wooden tables looked brand new, the seats were upholstered in beige and well looked after. The fine glassware and red porcelain were neatly laid out on the table.

I soon realized who the dinner executives were. My worthy boss's snobbish sister, Ziza Ribeiro, was the media's friendly neighborhood girl, the public relations officer for Beleza Black, but in reality she was a poor kicker, like most rich people. Her husband, a pimp, and another couple at the table, who I had no idea who they were.

As soon as we arrived, I was introduced to everyone. The man I didn't know was called Vargas, I think he was the former partner of Beleza Black, I had a vague recollection of that name. The woman with him, Sabine, was a tall, beautiful blonde, certainly an escort like me. And she certainly wasn't improvised.

Vargas held my hand longer than the others and kissed the top of it slowly.

"Beautiful brunette, Arthur! You've outdone yourself this time."

"I always outdo myself." The cocky "Si Ou" replied immediately.

"Not brunette, black, sir, and proud of it." With a smile on my lips, I corrected the man who wouldn't let go of my hand.

"I like her, brother, she's got personality, she's not one of the ferns you usually bring." I thought it was a compliment from Ziza, until she continued: "That must be a different kind of plant, a carnivorous one."

"Amor!!!" was repelled by her own husband.

"Stop it, Gil, I only told the truth."

I had to listen to all this and look the other way. What could I do if I was being paid well to listen to such idiocy?

"Don't worry, little sister, if the plant eats anything, it'll be mine, not yours.

So don't worry." Ziza tried to continue pouring out her antipathy, but her brother cut her off, changing the subject. "Have you ordered?" While he took hold of the menu with one hand, he unbuttoned his suit with the other."

"No, little brother," she replied debauchedly, "we've been waiting for you. But most of us here want something different to eat."

"That's fine with me. We'll each order our own."

They were used to this restaurant. They quickly chose what to eat. I've never set foot in a place like this and probably never will again. The price of a single dish on the menu was a quarter of my salary.

"Be a gentleman, Arthur, the girl needs help." Vargas said.

"I think it's an abuse for him, in our country, to put up a menu in Chinese with these strange letters." Ziza complained.

"But that's their marketing, bringing China to Brazil. Even that irritation you feel when you see the menu in Mandarin reminds you of Mr. Lang."

Ziza rolled her eyes, as if to say: who do you think you are to explain organizational matters to me?

"Beautiful and intelligent! I'll say it again, Arthur, this time you've outdone yourself."

This situation was becoming embarrassing for me. Every time Vargas complimented me, he seemed to belittle the woman accompanying him. Apparently, I was the only one who cared, because Sabine wouldn't leave her cell phone and didn't give a damn about what was going on around her.

Arthur looked at me with a closed expression and arched eyebrows. I knew he had asked me to keep quiet, and I was trying, but there were things that came naturally, after all, I wasn't a plant. He took the menu from my hand and opened it on the table between us.

"Look at the pictures, they're of real dishes. If you don't feel safe, order Yakisoba, it's foolproof. When you ask the waiter, call me, or just show him the picture."

"What a sweetheart he was!"

Overbearing and arrogant, that's what.

"Okay, thanks! " I said falsely.

They went back to chatting in a relaxed way, I think the business talk would only be after dessert, so that dinner wouldn't be indigestible.

I finally chose. Time to try the most famous Chinese dish. And to show them how I spoke to the waiter.

I raised my finger, and soon the man with the torn eye approached the table.

The Black Beauty executives were talking, except for Vargas, who was eating me up with his eyes, and Sabine, who was on her cell phone; the others were engaged in conversation, until I started talking and they turned their attention to me.

"Wǎn'ān, fúwùyuán! Wǒ huì xuǎnzé chuántǒng de. Kǎoyā dào běijīng. Wǒ zhǐshì qǐng nǐ ruǎnhuà jiāng zhī.”

"Good evening, waiter! I'll choose the traditional. Peking duck. I just ask you to tone down the ginger sauce."

The man leaned forward, as was the oriental custom.

.

"Hǎo de nǚshì! Suíxīnsuǒyù.”

"All right, ma'am! To your liking."

I looked at the expression on everyone's face at the table. Vargas, a little more, and his drool was dripping. Sabine, in her no-nonsense way, Gilvan, dumbfounded, Ziza, the face of spite and, the misogynist "Si Ou", looking like an asshole. That's exactly how I wanted it.