Chapter 8: Chapter 8

I get up early even though I slept at dawn as usual. My body is already trained to wake up at seven thirty in the morning every day, and there is no one to make me stay in bed late.

I change into clean clothes after I take a shower and brush my teeth. I run my hand through my hair to comb it, put my watch on my wrist and put on my shoes before going to where Cecília is sleeping. I knock on the door and it takes a few minutes for the employee to open it. I go in and see that the girl is still sleeping. I don't know what she was thinking going off like a madwoman drinking all the drinks in the world, but I'm not going to give the little princess a taste of rest after all.

— You can let me take care of everything from here — I say to the lady, who just nods and leaves.

I approach the bed and look down at the girl's makeup-smeared face. I shake her shoulders slightly and she grunts, smacking my hand.

— Wake up, Cecília — I say and shake her body again. - Wake up!

The girl wakes up with a jump and I arch an eyebrow when I see that her breasts are quickly exposed by the movement.

"What the…" I can only hear his voice husky with sleep. "What happened to my head?" I died?

“You're hungover,” I say, shoving my hands in the pockets of my slacks. "Can you cover yourself up with the duvet again?"

— I… — I wait for the confusion to give way to reality. "Why am I without clothes?" What did you do to me, you crazy person?

As soon as she covers herself, I look into her face. Her red hair is messy, stuck to her face all marked with something black that runs down her cheek.

“I didn't do shit. I don't want anything to do with you, not even sober, imagine drunk, girl. I'm not a rapist.

— I… I'm sorry — she says and runs a hand through her hair. Her face flushes and almost matches her hair color. - I do not remember anything.

“Consequences of your unbridled drinking,” I mutter impatiently and clench my jaw, pissed off at her. “Consequences of your disobeying my orders.

- You don't order me - she says and looks at me from below.

“Think about it, girl. I'm going down for breakfast. You

she has ten minutes to compose herself, clean this mess from her hair and go down to the restaurant. Don't try to make any more jokes, Cecilia. Do not play with me.

“I'm not coming down.

- You are going. Do I need to tell you the consequences for your father if you think about running away or making things difficult? I ask and she opens and closes her mouth in shock. "I thought not." Ten minutes.

I look at the time on the clock and walk towards the door.

"Can you bring me some headache medicine?" she asks and I arch an eyebrow. - Please…

- Ten minutes. Is all I answer before slamming the door harder than necessary, knowing how painful that must have been for her head.

I meet an employee halfway through and ask him to do what Cecília asked. The man nods and runs to do my bidding as I head down to the restaurant.

I really hope I haven't caused more headaches for myself with this plan that now seems completely silly to me. I don't know how long I can put up with that immature, inconsequential and irresponsible girl without freaking out.

**

Cecilia

I don't know which is worse, the headache that makes me want to cry or the embarrassment that keeps me from getting out of bed. My God, where was I thinking? I try to remember what happened last night, but I only remember bits and pieces.

I hear a knock on the door and a little lady comes in with medicine for a headache. I say thank you and stare confusedly at the pill in my hand as she leaves. I didn't think Thomas would actually bring me medicine. Looks like there's a decent person underneath that cocky man pose after all.

I drag myself out of bed and take a shower. I almost cry when I look in the mirror and see how awful I am. I struggle to get the smudged makeup off my face and give up trying to look at least a little bit presentable. I tie my hair haphazardly into a loose bun and pull on the first thing I see in my suitcase, a random shirt and jeans.

I bite my nail inside the elevator as I walk down to the restaurant. It's not hard to find the table where he's sitting, frowning at his cell phone as he quickly types something. He only takes his eyes off the set when I pull out the chair and end up clattering to sit next to him.

Thomas looks me up and down with one eyebrow arched. He doesn't say anything as I sit down and goes back to typing on his phone for a few seconds before putting it down on the table. I rest my elbow on the table and rest my forehead against my hand, squeezing my eyes shut because everything hurts. The noise and light don't help the headache at all, and the medicine hasn't started to work yet.

I only open my eyes when I feel his hand on my wrist and I'm startled because I wasn't expecting the touch. He looks at me intensely, his eyes locked deep into mine. I take a deep breath and hold it as Thomas leans towards me and I shudder when I feel his mouth on my ear. The beard rubs against the skin of my face and I feel my skin on fire without understanding what is happening.

“For future reference, when I tell you to get ready to go somewhere with me, try to dress less like a little girl who doesn't have to worry about anything and remember that you're going to be a businessman's wife now. I feel my face burn with embarrassment and I try to pull away, but he grabs my arm. I bite my lip and gasp as I feel his mouth touch my neck. — You're lucky that you're kind of hot and you look good inside that potato sack you decided to wear.

I blink in shock when he leans back into the chair he's sitting in with a smirk on his face. He raises his hand to call the waiter and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

"Yes, sir?" the waiter asks when he arrives at the table.

Thomas places his breakfast order, and I just keep staring at him with my mouth open in disbelief in this man. Did he just… say I'm hot? I blink in confusion and he snaps his fingers in front of my face.

"He doesn't have all day, Cristal," he complains, pointing to the waiter.

with the head.

“I… uh… Just a coffee, please.

Thomas frowns and turns to the waiter again.

“She'll have pancakes and orange juice,” he says to the man who leaves shortly after.

“But I'm not hungry,” I protest. My stomach is in knots from all I drank last night and just the thought of seeing food in front of me makes me want to throw up again. It's then that I remember throwing up on Thomas and I feel my eyes widen in dread. My God!

— If you're going to behave like a child, I'm going to treat you like a child, Cecília — he says and folds his hands on the table. His expression turns stern, his thick brows furrowed and his eyes flaming with anger. "Where the fuck were you thinking?" I told you to wait at the hotel!

“I'm not your property, you can't tell me what to do,” I complain softly, looking down at my fingers intertwined in my lap. He laughs acidly.

- What it was? Where's the courage? Did it go away with the alcohol? he teases. — Look at me, girl, I'm talking to you. I lift my head to meet his angry face. Thomas takes a deep breath. — You are my property, thanks to your papa. Thank him later.