Bastian Dupont.
1006 Words
At this moment, even breathing feels like a struggle, but I know I have to keep up this act of a perfect and happy relationship.
"Larissa, are you even listening?" my mother asks, looking somewhat annoyed.
"Sorry, yes. You were saying that your Chanel bag doesn't have the same texture as before, right?" I said, though I'm not sure if that's what she said.
"Not at all, dear. I'm telling you we will have a family lunch tomorrow at noon at Arche Company," she informs me, taking a sip of her pumpkin spice and cinnamon-flavored coffee.
"Okay... But you should still consider changing your bag; it's been with you for quite some time," I commented, not caring about what she said.
"Don't be rude. Lorenzo gave me this bag," she replies as if offended, something ridiculous if you ask me.
"You're right, it was Lorenzo, not my father," I said, and with that, I got up from the chair, super ready to leave.
Having breakfast with her is almost like Chinese torture.
Despite being my mother, she has never supported me in anything.
My father, the only one who loved me, is six feet under.
"I don't know where I went wrong with you, Larissa," she said as I walked towards the elevator.
I didn't say anything, I just continued on my way out of the restaurant. Life is too short to suffer for what others think.
My mother lost that trust when she decided to marry Lorenzo Rinaldi, a despotic man who cares only about his image.
He hides it well, like a snake about to strike its prey's weakest point.
I clench my fists hard enough to hurt myself but refrain from doing so.
Once the elevator doors open, the man Lorenzo has been planning to marry me off to without my consent enters the scene.
Bastian Dupont.
He's a French-born entrepreneur, just like his family, just like Paola... That dirty woman, I'll never be able to look at her the same way again.
I can't believe the two of them are siblings.
This man is accompanied by a limited team of men; they seem to have just had lunch together.
I stepped into the elevator since they seemed to be continuing on their way out of the building.
The elevator doors close, leaving us in a somewhat awkward silence.
Bastian speaks, and at that moment, my legs feel shaky for no apparent reason. My throat dries up suddenly, and speaking is something I seem to have forgotten.
Bastian is undeniably attractive.
"What have you heard from Helena?" he asks his personal assistant and the man makes a strange expression.
"It seems she took a flight to Singapore five hours ago, sir," the man informed him, holding a tablet in his hands.
"So, this time it's Singapore... How long is she gone for?" Bastian asked again, staring at the door.
"In the email she wrote last night, she said it would take about three months. According to her, she has urgent matters to attend to with her parents," the bespectacled man said.
"I want you to keep an eye on her every move, Rory. When she comes back, it'll be too late. I've given her too many chances, but she keeps squandering them," Bastian says, anger tattooed on his forehead, giving his voice a darker tone than usual.
"As you command, sir. I'll have Newton tail her," was the assistant's final response.
Finally, the elevator doors open on the first floor of the building, and the men exit in a hurry. However, there's a kind of impulse in me that won't let me be.
I feel an impulsive need to break the rules and do something different. I want to do something for myself.
Just the thought of yesterday's scene gives me strength from the depths of my being to approach Bastian quickly.
I grabbed him by the shoulder to prevent him from leaving and leaving the place with what could have been.
He turns around and looks me up and down.
"Who the hell are you?" he asks rudely.
"I...—" I begin to speak, but I'm interrupted by his personal assistant, who beats me to the response.
"She's Larissa Weasley, sir. Liam Weasley's daughter, the famous architect who designed the country's business towers' plans," the man says, leaving me amazed that he spoke about my father "At the moment, she is the official girlfriend of Aran Thomas, both sharing authority over an architecture firm called La Romme. They've won international awards over the years. There's a diamond in the rough between them, and guess who she is, sir. Paola Dupont, your sister."
I widen my eyes; does everyone know me this well in New York, or is this man a computer genius? How could he extract that information so quickly?
"Now I understand. Any business involving my stepsister is something I should fear. She has no talent beyond lying. What did she do this time?" Bastian asks, as if this were a constant in his life.
I blink a couple of times, not very sure of what I'm going to say next.
"Well, she slept with my fiancé," I say, feeling like every word is too loud for my liking.
I don't even care if the men with him hear me.
"Now, this is different from everything, but I don't understand how I can be anything useful on this occasion. Your fiancé is an i***t, but you should resolve it as a couple," he replies, not understanding the context much, crossing his arms.
I swallow, not sure if what I'm about to say next falls within his possibilities.
"I propose we get revenge on them. I know your girlfriend is cheating on you. In that case, let's get married," I told Bastian, looking him straight in the eyes for the first time since we met.
I got lost in his intense grayish-green gaze.
The assistant and the other men are left dumbfounded by the information. It seems like time has stopped.
- Writer
