The Aftermath
1212 Words
Chapter Nine... The Aftermath.
Giselle Ashford had run from her home in Sussex, England, just two days after her eighteenth birthday. She had dreamed of that escape for years, ever since her mother had spat the words at her like venom: “You’re a w***e. You’ll never make heaven if you don’t change your ways.”
Heaven. Giselle had never wanted it. Not really. To her, heaven was the flash of red soles on a pair of Louboutins, the fizz of champagne that cost more than the average American earns in a month, the thrill of a city night under neon lights.
She had chased it all, but it had come at a price; a price that had landed her on the wrong side of Miami.
Now, at twenty-nine, she sometimes wondered if it had been worth it. But if she was being honest; the thought of her mother, dead and turning in her grave, brought her a perverse kind of satisfaction.
“I’m going to kill Miguel one day,” she muttered, flicking ash from her cigarette into the night wind. She still had her party dress on, too lazy to take it off.
The wind whipped her hair across her face, cinematic and reckless, and José Ricardo grinned as he leaned back in his chair.
“You realize he’s my brother, right?” he said, chuckling as he snatched the cigarette from her hand for a long drag.
“I know. And I know you hate him. And I also know you shouldn’t be f*****g your brother’s girlfriend,” she shot back, her grin teasing. José laughed, low and easy.
José was twenty-five; young, naïve, and, according to Giselle, very good at s*x. He was the younger brother of Miguel Ricardo, the man who currently claimed to own her. Miguel was both her pimp, and boyfriend.
At forty-seven, Miguel was old enough to be José’s father, it baffled her sometimes, the age gap between the two, but she didn’t think much about it.
Thinking too much, she knew, would only make her realize how reckless this all was; and that José, sweet and earnest as he was, would bear the consequences of their fooling around.
“Why don’t you just leave him?” José asked suddenly, shifting his chair closer, his eyes fixed on hers. “We could run away together. I have enough saved. Don’t you see how bad he treats you?”
Giselle exhaled smoke slowly, leaning back and letting it curl around her face. “Miguel and I… we’re complicated. You wouldn’t understand.” She tilted her head, letting the words hang. Then, with a sly smile, she added, “How about we quit talking about your brother, and you kiss me instead?”
Her lips brushed his, teeth grazing briefly, hands roaming his face as José deepened the kiss. He lifted her from the chair, and she straddled his waist, letting herself melt into him.
“Take me right here, on the balcony,” she whispered, her voice sultry, and daring. “I want to watch the city as I moan your name.”
José didn’t protest. He guided her to the railing, pressing into her back gently as his lips traced her neck.
When she finally felt his c**k inside her, a wicked grin spread across her face. She thought of her mother again, and oh, Catherine Ashford was definitely turning in her grave tonight.
***
Viktor couldn’t help but notice how quiet Gloria was on their ride home from the party.
He had found it… unusual.
She had walked up to him without warning and requested that they leave. He had agreed immediately. He preferred leaving early anyway, but the silence that followed was inconsistent with her.
He did not dislike silence. In fact, he preferred it.
But he had started adapting to her constant talking.
“The party was… enjoyable, wasn’t it?” he said, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve as he looked at her, attempting to measure her response.
Nothing.
“You met Joseph,” he continued. “What do you think of him?”
Still nothing.
When the car pulled into the parking lot of his mansion, she stepped out immediately without hesitation.
Viktor followed, half chasing after her.
“Why are you so quiet?” he asked as he approached her. “Did I say or do something wrong?”
She turned sharply.
“You are always wrong, in case you haven’t noticed, Viktor, but you’re the least of my worries right now,” she snapped, poking his chest.
He glanced down briefly at her hand before looking back at her face. If she wasn't mad at me, then who else?
“Then explain it,” he said, following her as she moved. “You are angry. If it is not directed at me, it requires some kind of explanation at least.”
She was already halfway up the stairs when she stopped abruptly and turned, placing them almost at eye level.
“Because I saw my sister today!” she burst out. “I saw my sister, and she looked like she didn’t want to talk to me! And the man she was with looked like some human-trafficking mafia boss. No offense to you, but you actually clean up well, even with the dirty business you do!”
Viktor watched her. There was an expectation in her expression as she waited for his response.
“I select my clothing based on color coordination,” he said. “And I primarily wear pure cotton. It presents a cleaner appearance.”
Her face contorted immediately, as if she might explode and Viktor stepped down one stair, increasing the distance between them.
“I tell you my sister might be in danger, and all you have to say is fabric composition?” she snapped, moving closer again. “What the f**k is wrong with you? Are you slow? Stupid? Or do you just enjoy pissing me off?”
She was too close.
Viktor could feel the warmth of her breath, see the movement of her lips, and the small uncontrolled bursts of saliva as she spoke. Unsanitary.
“You are raising your voice,” he said, turning his head slightly away from her. “And you are spitting. Step back.”
That was when she pushed him.
The force was unexpected,and he misstepped briefly, catching himself at the base of the stairs before he could fall.
There was a pause before Viktor moved.
He caught her wrist, pulled her forward, and pressed her back against the wall in one controlled motion.
His breathing had changed, but only slightly.
“From now on,” he said, voice low and even, “you will not speak to me when you are emotional.”
His grip tightened, “You will not come within two feet of me. And you will not touch me.”
His eyes held hers.
“If you ignore any of those instructions,” he added calmly, “the outcome will be unpleasant for you.” he finished, before he released her and took a step back, restoring distance between them.
He would need to bathe, he thought to himself as he turned to walk away, a very long cleansing one.
- Writer
