Getting Better
1813 Words
We drove in silence, sitting so close yet feeling miles apart. Each time I stole a glance at him, he was gazing out the window, his face unreadable.
Don Nicholas was a man of his word, keeping the distance he’d promised. My heart clenched as I wondered if he would ever look at me like he used to.
Stepping out of the car, I could feel the eyes on us. Whispers surrounded me, especially from the women passing by.
"Who is that with him? Is she his girlfriend?" one asked, her tone dripping with envy.
"No way," another replied, casting a dismissive glance at me. "He’s too handsome, too rich for someone like her."
Their words stung, and I gasped softly. Why were they so obsessed with him? Sure, he was full of mystery, but if I hadn't been forced to marry him, I wouldn't have chosen this life—wouldn't have chosen him. Or so I told myself.
"His mask turns me on!" one woman dared to yell, loud enough for us to hear before we reached the mall. My cheeks burned with shock. How could she be so bold?
I turned to look at him. He really was handsome... maybe I’d been jealous all along. The thought made me bristle. It wasn’t just that I hated their attention—it was the way they looked at him, like he was theirs to admire.
Inside the boutique, a man greeted us with a bow. "Welcome, Godfather. You honor us with your presence."
"Yes," Nicholas replied, his voice calm and commanding. "I brought my wife to shop."
The man’s eyes widened. "Wife? Of course, ma’am, welcome," he said, bowing to me in surprise.
“Thank you,” I murmured, still reeling from his casual use of the word wife.
“Get someone to help her choose whatever she wants,” Nicholas instructed, his tone dismissive. He looked around and spotted a sofa. “I’ll sit and wait.”
I crossed my arms, standing tall. “You’re not sitting,” I said firmly. Heads turned in surprise, but I didn’t care. “You’re helping me shop.”
“I don’t know anything about women’s clothes,” he replied, his voice low.
“You wear nice clothes, so I’m sure you’ll pick something decent for me.”
He closed the gap between us, his voice soft but firm. “Alright, wife. Let’s not cause a scene. Just follow the sales rep and pick what you need.”
My heart sank, feeling deflated. I nodded and followed the young saleswoman as she guided me through the racks of expensive clothes.
Everything was beautiful, but nothing felt right. I kept trying on outfit after outfit, each time stepping out to show him. Every time, the response was the same—his head would shake, his expression tightening with frustration.
After an hour, I was exhausted. I slipped into a yellow top and a green skirt that fell just below my knees. Feeling bold, I twirled in front of him.
“What about this one?” I asked, hoping for something, anything.
He frowned and shook his head again. “No.”
Frustration boiled over. “I give up,” I muttered, retreating to the changing room. As I started to slip back into my clothes, I heard his voice outside the door, closer than I expected.
“Try these,” Nicholas said. I opened the door, surprised to find him standing there, holding a handful of outfits.
Without a word, I took them from him. There was something in his eyes, something that made my breath catch, but I pushed the thought away as I closed the door.
I slipped into the outfits Nicholas had chosen, and each time I looked at myself in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me. I didn’t see the girl drowning in debt anymore—I saw a queen. These clothes transformed me, and as much as I hated to admit it, Nicholas was good at this. Even though he’d claimed to know nothing about women’s fashion, he had an eye for it.
From then on, he took control, guiding me through the rest of the shopping. He picked out shoes, watches, jewelry, even bags, all with an ease that left me speechless.
By the time we finished, I was drained, my body aching from hours of trying on clothes.
As we stepped out of the mall, something caught my eye. Across the street, I saw a small ice cream cart, just like the ones I used to visit with Rosalind. A pang of longing hit me—I missed her so much. Those simple moments with my sister felt like another lifetime.
"Can I get some ice cream?" I asked, pointing at the cart.
Nicholas raised a brow, clearly surprised. "Ice cream? You sure?"
I laughed softly. "Yes, and I might go crazy if I don’t get it. Can I?" I added, my voice pleading, almost playful.
He scanned the crowd that had been watching us, their eyes still glued to him. "Fine," he said with a sigh. "I’ll get it."
He called his driver to take me to the car, but I waved him off. "No, I want to watch you," I teased, smiling. There was something amusing about the idea of him, in all his power and mystery, buying me ice cream like some normal guy.
Nicholas crossed the street, his figure looking so out of place next to the humble cart. I stifled a laugh as he talked to the vendor, gesturing to the different flavors. I hadn’t told him what I wanted.
When he pointed at strawberry, I shook my head. He moved on to vanilla, and I shook my head again. Finally, he gestured toward the coconut flavor, but I waved it off too. He threw his hands in mock exasperation, then pointed at chocolate.
I smiled and nodded, relieved he’d finally gotten it right. And then… he smiled back. It wasn’t just a polite smile; it was genuine, warm. The sight of it made my heart skip. He looked so handsome, so carefree.
For a moment, I forgot who he was. I forgot the distance between us. I smiled too, unable to stop myself.
But then, everything changed.
Before I could bask in the moment, a hand gripped my arm from behind, hard.
My body froze, and my heart slammed against my ribs. I tried to pull away, but the hand was too strong. Slowly, I turned around, and my blood ran cold.
Miguel.
My breath hitched. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like my soul had left my body, the air around me suffocating.
"b***h, did you really think you could run from me?" Miguel sneered, his grip tightening painfully around my arm.
"L-let go," I stammered, trying to free myself. My eyes darted to Nicholas, but he wasn’t looking. He didn’t see what was happening. And the people around us? They avoided my gaze, too scared to intervene.
Miguel yanked me closer, his breath hot against my ear. "If you want to breathe, you’ll come with me," he growled, dragging me towards a dark corner. I wanted to scream, to fight, but when I saw the guns in the hands of the men with him, my body went limp. I had no choice.
As they dragged me away, my earring slipped from my ear and hit the ground. I tried to bend down, but they held me too tight. No one came to help. The few people who saw us turned their heads.
Miguel threw me to the ground when we reached a secluded alley. I tried to get up, but one of his men pointed a gun at me. I froze, panic surging through my veins.
This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. I wasn’t going to die here, not by Miguel’s hand.
"You thought you could play games with me?" Miguel snarled before slapping me hard across the face.
The sting of his hand burned my skin, but the fear that coursed through me was far worse. I knew then that he meant every word of what he had planned.
My cheeks burned as I rubbed them, the sting from the slap still fresh. I bit back the pain, knowing no one was coming to save me. Not this time, not even with my usual excuses.
"You ran from me. That wasn’t the deal, Arianna Gomez," Miguel spat, his voice cold. He turned his back on me. "Cry all you want. I’m not buying your excuses today. It’s either my money or your life."
I swallowed hard, glancing around desperately. There was nothing I could offer him. I wasn’t wearing a necklace today, and I'd lost one of my earrings on the way here. What could I give him?
"Please, Miguel, just give me some time. I’ll find a way to get the money, I swear," I stammered, my voice cracking under the weight of my tears.
"Is that the best you’ve got?" He spun around, laughing cruelly. "Look at you, Arianna. You walk around in fancy clothes now, rubbing shoulders with the rich. Who are you fooling? Whose money are you really spending?"
"I don’t owe you an explanation," I shot back, my voice trembling. It was something don Nicholas would’ve said, and I regretted it immediately. I had no business speaking to Miguel like that.
His eyes darkened. In an instant, he was on me, yanking my hair and dragging me forward before throwing me to the floor again. I gasped in pain, gritting my teeth. Using Nicholas’ words was a terrible mistake.
"You ran from your debt, and now you don’t owe me an explanation?" he snarled.
"I didn’t run!" I screamed, trying to steady my breath. "Things got bad, I had to leave home, that’s all."
He paused, studying me. "Liar. I went to your home. No one was there. Your neighbors said you moved out for good. That’s running."
My heart stopped. Rosa and my papa were gone? I had no idea. Fear gripped me. "Mi familia?" I asked in a shaky whisper.
"Si," he sneered. "Stop pretending. It’s over."
I was speechless, my mind racing. What happened to my family? Where were they? Were they still alive?
"Kill her," Miguel commanded, his voice calm but laced with cruelty.
I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. I had to survive. I had to find out if my family was okay. My sister—was she safe?
I crawled on my knees, begging for mercy, but the man with the gun stepped closer. He raised it, aiming directly at my head. I froze, staring at the sky.
If this was the end, so be it.
The sound of the gunshot ripped through the air. I felt myself falling, hitting the floor.
- Writer
