Chapter 72: Chapter 72

ANGELIC...

When I left home this morning, I was determined not to go to the Bronx. Who does he think he is, breaking into my house and dictating orders? What does he think I am, obedient as a puppy?

Every time he's around me, dictating orders he shouldn't, acting like he has what he doesn't have, I feel intoxicated, squeezed into a space that only suits him. him.

I took a long walk before college to force my mind to focus on my own life. I've survived over a month away from him, and I wouldn't allow myself to panic just because I know he's back.

After lunch I went to church. Father Bee was practicing with the choir. I spent most of the afternoon there, trying to control my eyes, which finally glanced at the clock on the wall. I took the opportunity to confess.

When the sun went down, I realized that I had been apprehensive all day. My heart was beating too fast. After eight o'clock, I looked at the clock, hoping that the hours would pass, that it would pass two in the morning, and that LeBlanc would return to Italy. I refused to give in and go see him in the Bronx.

However, when my cell phone rang and I rushed to answer it, I realized I was panicking. It was just a call from my carrier. I needed to do something to end this story, so I decided to make it clear to LeBlanc, once and for all, that I had no interest in his mind games.

I wanted to drive to the Bronx, tell him half a dozen truths to his face, and come back. I thought that this way I could push the nervousness out of my chest and relax. However, I found myself walking into the closet and choosing skintight leather pants and a corset. I could wear sneakers, but opted for heeled boots.

Why, Angelique Donneli?

I figured I was more angry than attracted, but maybe I was lying. Coming out of the bathroom and seeing this nearly two meter tall man sitting on my bed with pink pillows moved me. That's why I took Elliot's Audi and drove to the Bronx. Not because I wanted to face LeBlanc, but because I wanted to give him one more opportunity to sit down and tell me to behave myself.

The organized clutter of the Bronx is almost familiar as I approach, already beginning to hear the loud music on the street of the old factory. I park in front of the workshop and look around me. The windows are too dark for people to see me, yet I see them all. Women in short skirts sitting on the hoods of cars. The men counting the bags of money from the last race they won. Cars lined up further, waiting for the horn to sound to start the race.

I smile. What would Margot think of that?

I'm scared when someone taps the back of their fingers on the car window. I look up to find LeBlanc, and have to bite my bottom lip to contain my smile as I look up at his cynical face. He knew I would come.

I roll down the window completely.

- You gave me a deadline, so I'm going to give you one too - I look at the time on the dashboard of the car - I'll be home in twenty minutes.

- Very well - he whispers - First of all, do you have something to tell me?

I part my lips. Yes, I have a lot to say. No, I don't need to say it now. I shake my head.

- Excellent. See that line in front of you? - it designates a marking that crosses the street, painted in white paint. I affirm - This is the starting line. Let's run a little.

- What is it worth? - I ask.

- I don't want to bet.

- I want to bet - tease.

LeBlanc turns to me. I couldn't remember how uneasy his green, sometimes yellowish eyes made me. He puts his hands on the door and leans in, still looking me in the eye. I don't know what's going on in your head, but if I could guess, I'd say you're thinking the same thing you were thinking in that warehouse, when you were between my legs.

- Here, we bet cars.

"Of course," my voice breaks and he smiles.

LeBlanc points to the line one last time, indicating that I must take the car there. He straightens up and walks away. Right now I'm observing how different he is from everyone else around us. None of them wear expensive clothes, drive a nice car, or possibly speak Italian. He doesn't belong here, and yet he is here, as if he were at home.

As if you were at home...

I heard once that the law doesn't apply to the ghetto. Here, all that exists is the law of the street. They don't let men like LeBlanc come in and do whatever they want. So why is he here? Why doesn't everyone know it's not their place?

I shake my head. The only way to understand it is to approach it. I drive a few meters to the starting line.

I wait for other cars to park next to me, however I remain alone behind the line for several minutes. Something is wrong. Perhaps they have already finished the races. As I put the car in reverse, I see another one pull up next to me, so close it could scratch my paintwork by a millimeter.

I don't have to look to know it's him. Of course, we will run alone. LeBlanc won't let anyone else beat me. It must be him.

A man with spiky red hair stands in front of the cars, carrying a loudspeaker. He wears jeans and a button-up shirt, but none of that goes with his striped tie or his fiery red hair.

- I had finished my shift, but the boss gave me one more job - said the man through the loudspeaker.

I didn't know we were going to have an audience until I heard people around me start screaming.

- If you're after a good bet, tonight is the night - it continues - Place your bets with me. If they win, congratulations. If you lose... - The man makes a dramatic pause - Don't be sad. Remember; in a street race, the street wins.

I hear more screams around me. My heart is pounding desperately in my chest. The Angelica of a few months ago couldn't even think of running a road race, let alone participating in one. I rub my sweaty palms on my pants.

- Ready? - The man points to LeBlanc. I don't turn around to see her reaction, but the people around her are jumping up and screaming.

- Ready? - he turns to me. I say - What a beauty. You don't want to miss this,” he said, referring to the car.

- Runners - the man calls - You will go from here to Central Park - he warns, raising his arm. I don't understand the race, but I guess we start when your arm goes down. I put my foot on the accelerator - Come on, damn it! - he shouts, lowering his arm.

I press hard on the accelerator. I had never had a real idea of the power of this car until then. I try to divide my attention between driving, looking at where LeBlanc is in the rearview mirror, and remembering the way to Central Park.

When I turn around the corner of the factory territory, he is always behind me. I take the only road I know out of the Bronx, to the right, however, I notice the Bugatti turning left.

A shortcut.

"Damn," I whisper.

I accelerate even more, taking advantage of the fact that the streets are wide and empty. I spot the bridge a few meters away and smile. He must not have crossed it yet. Just as I'm about to cross the bridge, her car pulls to the right and passes in front of me, so close that I have to brake to avoid hitting her.

The smell of burnt tires immediately pervades the car.

- Son. Given. Mom - I slam my hand against the steering wheel.

The Bugatti starts, so I accelerate so as not to increase my disadvantage. There are two lanes on the bridge and I'm driving on the right. Even though I'm starting to think I might lose Elliot's car, I've never been so excited. My whole body is shaking.

I have to slow down because the car in front of me is not going more than 60 km/h. I'm looking for LeBlanc in traffic, but he must have left the bridge a long time ago. I approach the car and flash the headlights. It's an emergency, man!

The car finally swerves to the left, so I accelerate as hard as I can until I exit the bridge. I can't take the main road. The streets must be busy even in the middle of the night, this is New York after all.

Think, think, think...

Each time we leave the house, the driver chooses the lesser known routes in the city. It's a question of presidential security. I just need to remember which roads lead to Central Park.

I watch the numbers increase on the panel, along with the rate of my breathing. It's incredibly good. It's so scary and dangerous. I turn right. I barely remember that the brake exists as I roll the Audi. If LeBlanc went the traditional route, he'll be there in five minutes. I have to do this in three.

The only entrance this way is from the north. I begin to see the first yellow trees in the park as I approach. I don't allow myself to be happy until I actually know I've won, however, I already know exactly what to say to LeBlanc when he arrives, and I don't mind being childish.

When I reach the entrance, my smirk slowly fades. I see the black car parked and hope it's not his car. However, since it's parked in front of the Park gates, and not lined up along the sidewalk, I know it's the Bugatti.

I slow down and stop in front of his car. Our flashing headlights jostle and I refuse to go out before him.

How did he do it? He crossed the city in what, two minutes?

I can't see it inside the car because of the light coming directly into my eyes. I get off, even though I really want to drive home, park Elliot's car and pretend I never made that goddamn bet. But it would win him the game. It would make me a mute girl.

I walk to the front of the car and lean my hip against the hood. After a long minute, LeBlanc is down. I'm sure he took his time on purpose, just to show he can do things his way, and he does. He imitates my gesture by leaning on the hood of his car.

"You won," I said.

I hand him the Audi key, but he doesn't take it. I raise an eyebrow. Are we gonna tease each other until the sun comes up?

- You didn't ask me what I wanted.

- What you want?

Our eyes meet. I can't see clearly, because the light against me almost blinds me. However, I'm sure the lustful expression is on his face. All I know of this man is his last name, and I can't even guarantee that's his real name, but his body language has never lied to me.

"Your bra," he finally whispers. I smile.

- I am a committed woman.

- The car, then.

I keep staring at him. He's far from the most gentlemanly man in the world, but I know he wouldn't take the car. He barely had room in his garage for one more. I feel my breathing quicken again. Of all things, LeBlanc chose my bra as a compromise. In a ridiculous way, it warms my body.

"I'm not wearing a bra, but I can…" I trail off as his lips curl into a smirk. Men like that shouldn't exist for easily manipulated women. Clear throat - I can do something else.

- Let's take the car back to your father's garage, then you come with me - he said, already getting up.

- Where are we going? - I dare ask.

LeBlanc holds the door open, winks at me, and gets into his car. How naïve of me. I immediately asked the man who didn't even tell me his first name.

ANGELIC...

My heart almost dropped out of my mouth when I left the car in Elliot's garage and saw the marks on the tires. I thought I couldn't be nervous anymore, so I got in LeBlanc's car, and I was.

It is normal that it is beautiful, and it is indisputable. But his posture doubled, his mystery to reveal who he is, where he comes from, what he wants. Its scent is strong, but not the overpowering kind, but the gripping kind. All this, placed next to me in a car, made me feel uncomfortable.

We arrived at a building in the heart of New York, near Times Square. Here are the tallest and most expensive buildings in the city. LeBlanc pulls into one of the parking spots, which is surprisingly full. He gets out, walks around the car and opens the door for me.

- Thanks.

I could make a joke about how I didn't think he was a gentleman, but I'm reconsidering. Not today.

LeBlanc places a hand on the base of my spine, and even though there is thick tissue between his palm and my skin, my body automatically lights up. I remember this key. He leads me to the elevators, and as we wait for the doors to open, his hand rests on me.

Oh my God!

We enter the elevator and go up to the penthouse. Even before the doors open, I hear loud music. I think of a party, a walk, a party... but nothing prepares me for what I discover when the doors open.

If you asked me what's the most absurd thing I've ever seen, I'd say it was five years ago, when I left math class and walked to the library. I had a few minutes to spare before the book club meeting, so I went to the bathroom to wash my hands. I heard some weird noises, but I didn't know what it was until I walked into the bathroom and saw Skyla kneeling in front of our teacher. All I know is that he quit after that, but not before giving us A's in his class.

But now, given the crowd of people in this club, I guess the bathroom scene wasn't so bad after all. There are naked, really naked people doing pole dancing. There are people sniffing lines of white powder on the tables. There are people kissing in the corners of the walls, and God knows what they will do after that.

I look at how people are dressed - some are not dressed - then I look down at my leather pants and corset. I look like a saint in this place.

LeBlanc presses his hand to the base of my spine, indicating that I must come in. I wonder if he knows it's my first time in a club. I walk slowly, until I realize that these people don't care about me. They want to have the best time they know, in the best city in the world, and they won't waste a second looking away.

What happens in New York also stays in New York.

The bar is on the right and the DJ table is on the left. The lighting is exactly what I would expect from a nightclub; alternately flashing red and blue.

"Let's go upstairs," LeBlanc said behind me.

Then, just then, I realize there is a second floor. There are a few people, mostly men, leaning against the glass ledge as they talk. I compare the second floor with the first, and I prefer to stay here.

Yes, these people scare me a bit, but for someone who has never flown, other people's wings are new.

- I want to stay here. I am thirsty.