Strawberry Kisses Phavy Prieto (bookstand for reading TXT) 📖

shower for two good reasons: to let them finish their conversation and in the hope that Damian would decide to come and join me. The second thing didn't happen, but I hoped that I wouldn't find Michael in our room yet because I would show up half naked with only a towel on. When I opened the door there was a dead silence.

"What did he want?" I asked when I saw Damian sitting while he was typing on his phone.

"He asked me to be his best man."

"His best man?"

It must be a joke! I guess it is something important to Michael because Damian is his best friend, but – holy shit! – Michael had practically stolen his girlfriend.

"And what did you answer him?" I asked as if what had been asked of him wasn't so serious.

"Could I refuse?" he mocked. "He convinced me by saying that he would never have asked me, but seeing me deeply in love with another woman, he deduced that what happened with Rebecca was now part of the past. He also offered to be my best man at our wedding."

"Deeply in love, Mr. Devoir?" I answered smiling as I approached him.

"Apparently they will give us an Oscar for the best performance of the year."

He had a serious tone. As much as he tried to make it sound like a joke he couldn't. Realizing how despondent he could feel, I was moved. I knelt in front of him, despite wearing only a towel with my wet hair dripping onto my shoulders. I took his hands to make him put down his phone and look at me.

"It’s not appropriate for me to say it, but I am sincerely sorry that your best friend is marrying that harpy in whose veins poison flows instead of blood. I understand that you may still love her and that all this is difficult to digest."

"Love her?" he snapped sarcastically. "More than once I have come to think that I have never felt what is called love for her."

"Then why do you feel this way?" I ventured to ask bluntly.

"Because it annoys me that Michael doesn't realize that she only wants his stupid title!" he admitted with concern.

"I thought it didn't seem so obvious," I whispered.

"Everybody knows. All except him, who seems to be blind."

"No offense, but I don't think you're the best person to judge on his blindness. You asked her to marry you."

"You'd better not remind me. I get irritated every time I think about it," he cut short, getting up suddenly. I realized that he didn't have a high esteem for the Barbie-giraffe.

"Have you talked to her recently?" I asked remembering the conversation I had in the elevator.

"With Rebecca?" he asked as if that name disgusted him. "Of course not."

He didn't even wait for me to reply and went into the bathroom to take a shower, probably ice cold to cool his soul.

"I can't even imagine what it's like to be in his shoes," I thought as I began to wear some makeup using my tiny powder compact mirror.

The disheartening thing about that situation was that the moment of intimacy, which began less than an hour earlier, now seemed light years away.

Damn marriage and damn that fucking Rebecca! I can't wait for the ceremony to be over and that they leave us in peace.

Something told me that that cock-teaser would not be beautiful forever, even less beautiful, when married to the marquis, no matter how rich he was. She was a snake which couldn't be happy about the air she breathed and would create discord until the end of her days. Maybe someday Michael will realize what kind of viper he married. Unfortunately, as soon as my performance was over, I would return to my reality and would not have the pleasure of knowing it.

"We all need to be downstairs in half an hour," he said as soon as he went out of the bathroom. The masculine scent that flooded the room caused a sort of jolt between my legs.

Holy Mother, why does this man cause these spasms in me?

Well, apart from the abs more marked than the squares of a chocolate bar, he had sensuality he probably wasn't aware of – or maybe he was, why fool yourself? Damian had to know he was irresistible. He was like a lighted torch and I was his little moth in a suicidal flight towards the flame that would toast me.

"Sure! Why not now?" I said hoping to be able to fix my hair in the short time allowed.

I heard his light laughter and was glad that the cloak of sadness was fading away.

After exactly thirty minutes, thanks to my calculation skills, I presented myself perfectly made up, combed with a low bun, dressed in the midnight blue dress, sober and elegant, and in the high-heeled shoes that I already had worn the previous night.

"Just in time!" I exclaimed observing the clock.

"Something is missing," he said as he approached me. From my point of view, ten centimeters higher than usual, I looked around in search of what I had forgotten.

"What did I forget?" I asked, touching my neck and feeling my bare skin.

"This," he said, approaching slowly. I saw that he had something in his hands that didn't look like another box containing a jewel. When he unrolled a velvet cloth, I realized I was wrong. He showed me a necklace with a pendant made of diamonds and emeralds.

Spectacular!

"This... no," I began to stammer.

"It's only on loan. It is a family jewel, and I would be very grateful if you wore it tonight."

Family jewel? Was he asking me to wear an heirloom from his ancestors? What if I lost it? Never ever!

"No, no, no, no," I refused. "I can't do it.