Obey Me

Who I Am

Celina

"Well look who it is," Greg's voice always disgusted me. It had so much hidden meaning. "I saw you moved?"

"How did you?"

"Oh come on, did you really think I would let you go that easily," he got closer to me. "You were always my favorite." I tried to step back but he grabbed my arms by the elbow.

"I need you to come back," he pleaded. "I can't make the money I used to without you." His grip got tighter.

"Let go," I cried.

"Celina," the way he said my name gave me chills. "You are coming with me. One way or another. Vito won't be able to stop me. You are mine." His words were like venom. I wanted to shout, cry and hit him.

Suddenly, I hear the popping sounding. There is blood on my hands. So much blood.

"Oh my," I woke up from a nightmare. I didn't see what happened. I didn't see any blood but I knew what happened. That sound haunts me. The three loud pops that came minutes after Greg and Vito left the car and the silence that followed. Vito got in the car and acted as if nothing happened. He took us home. Home? I walked in and headed to my room. I didn't notice when I fell asleep but I did for a few minutes. It was around eight now. I hadn't eaten all afternoon.

There was a knock on my door.

"Celina,"

"Vito"

"Come have dinner with me," he said gently. He handed me a garment bag. "Wear this." I took it and closed the door. I unzipped the bag slowly. I was stunned to see the dress that was inside. I smiled slightly. I bit my lower lip and wondered if this was a good idea. I went to take a quick shower then I slipped on the tight short satin red dress Vito had given me. It had thin spaghetti straps that crossed at the back. It had a low cowl neckline. I was slightly embarrassed to have to wear this in front of him but somehow it also thrilled me. I luckily owned a nice pair of black strappy heels. I left my hair down and wore very little makeup. I stepped out of my room as soon as I was done getting ready. I heard music softly playing near the terrace in the sitting room. I walked there and saw Vito standing with a drink in his hand and a cigar in the other. He was wearing all black. The black button-up shirt was not buttoned up all the way. He had rings on both of his hands and a large fancy expensive-looking watch on his wrist. He looked like a dream. A dream I shouldn't be having.

"Celina," he spoke so softly, and smoothly it made my knees weak. "Come here." I obeyed and walked over to him.

"Here," he handed me a glass of champagne. "Are you hungry?" I nodded. He led me to the table he had set up on the terrace. We sat down. I looked down at the food. It looked delicious and like nothing I had ever seen before.

"It's feijoada," Vito said. One he spoke in that language. I fell harder for him. "It's Brazilian."

"Oh." Vito never spoke much to me. "So, you're Brazilian."

"Yes," he told me. "I was born and raised in Rio."

"Do you miss it?"

"Very much but this is my home now,"

"Is your family still there," Vito didn't answer me. "I don't think you want to start talking about family." He hit me where it hurt the most. He knew it affected me but he did not apologize or say anything comforting.

"Do you like it?" I had taken three bites but it was very delicious.

"Yes,"

"Are you afraid of me?" his question took me by surprise.

"No,"

"REALLY?" he seemed amused.

"Yes," Vito suddenly got a call and answered it.

"Agora nao," he said. He quickly hung up and continued to give me his undivided attention.

"So, what is the language you speak?"

"Brazilian Portuguese,"

"It sounds so pretty," he smiled and continued eating.

After a few minutes in silence,

"I killed Greg,"

"I know,"

"Any thoughts?"

"He didn't deserve it,"

"How do you know?" I didn't have an answer for him.

"Does anyone deserve to die?"

"We all die sooner or later,"

"But-,"

"Celina, he is not the first person I have killed,"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I think it is good for you to know,"

"Why?"

"You work for me, you live in my home,"

"But-,"

"You are a naive and stupid girl," I looked down at my plate.

"I'm an orphan," I told him. "I don't know where I come from or who I am."

"You don't know who you are?"

"No,"

"You've had all your life to decide that," Vito told me. "You can be anyone you want to be."

"Easy for you to say," I told him. "You have everything."

"And you think I got all this for free. You don't think I had to work for it."

"Um,"

"I am a successful thirty-seven-year-old businessman, I came from the second largest favela. I lived in the slums almost my entire childhood and teenage years. My family worked their way to the top. They took the power and money I have today. I am who I am because of me. Not because of anyone else. NO ONE ELSE CAN TELL ME WHO I AM. I AM WHAT I AM BECAUSE OF ME."

"Vito,"

"Maybe you should grow some backbone and do the same. Be who you want to be."

"I'm trying,"

"Try harder," Vito stared at me. He was judging me. He was testing me. "What do you want?"

"I-,"

"Don't ask for it, take it," I slowly but confidently got up from my chair and walked over to him. I sat on his lap and then grabbed the back of his head. I slammed my lips onto his. Vito's hands went around my waist and held me tight.