"Don't try to make me happy; you are not Chanel. "
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Leave me alone, Alfredo! I don't want to talk to you," Rasina snapped, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she stormed away.
Alfredo hurried after her, struggling to keep pace with her frantic, indignant strides. "Rasina, please... just let me explain!"
"You disappear for two whole days? No call, no text, not even a word of apology for walking out in the middle of our conversation at the park? This... I will never accept this."
She kept walking, throwing the words over her shoulder like poisoned darts she had been sharpening for forty-eight hours. To Alfredo, she looked incredibly captivating when she was angry; her sharp features only grew more striking with every note of resentment.
"Look, I know I messed up. I'm truly sorry," Alfredo said, his voice dropping to a sincere register. "But I was genuinely buried in work. And besides, you aren't the type to be satisfied by a mere text—I knew a message would have only made you angrier."
She stopped abruptly, her lips curling in dissatisfaction. "Maybe you're right, but you still should have done something."
"That's exactly why I'm here. I want to show you something."
She turned her face away, feigning indifference. He stepped closer, tilting his head slightly into her line of sight. "Come on... I said I was sorry."
She rolled her eyes, a sigh of dramatic boredom escaping her, but she finally relented. "It better be worth the effort."
"Of course it is."
He led her toward a nearly deserted side street, tucked away from the roar and congestion of the main boulevards. Alfredo stopped and turned to her with a cryptic grin. "Alright, close your eyes, please."
"This is such a cliché, Alfredo. There's really no need for the theatrics."
"Just do it. Damn it!"
She winced as she shut her eyes, gripping his arm for balance since the uneven pavement made walking in her high heels treacherous. He tightened his hold on her hand, supporting her weight so she wouldn't stumble.
"We've arrived. Open them."
She opened her eyes to find a vintage red car parked before them. However, it was completely smothered in a chaotic arrangement of candy and colorful sweets. She wrinkled her nose in immediate distaste. "What on earth is this?"
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Alfredo beamed, his pride evident.
"No! Look how you've ruined that classic crimson paint with this... tacky mess."
"What?!" Alfredo cried, his disappointment palpable as he took in her arrogant expression. "You really don't like it? It's a rare vintage model. I thought you'd appreciate the soul of it."
"The problem isn't the car itself, Alfredo. It's the sugary disaster you've plastered all over it."
He sighed, defeated. "Fine... but let me finish. It isn't for you, anyway. There's a spring festival taking place next week in a rural town. There are plenty of activities... and I want you to share that day with me."
She pointed a manicured index finger at the car with supreme condescension. "You don't seriously expect me to step foot in that monstrosity, do you?"
"Do you have any idea how much it cost me to prep this car?"
"I don't care. It's hideous and it doesn't suit my style."
He rubbed his temples tiredly. "You've hurt my car's feelings. Take it back." He added, trying to reason with her, "The candy will be gone by the time we arrive—it's for the children there. The bright red will be visible again."
He looked at the car proudly, but when he shifted his gaze back to Rasina, he found her focused on her reflection in a small compact mirror, reapplying her lip gloss with cold precision.
"Hello? Are you even listening to me?"
She snapped the mirror shut with a sharp click. "I've heard enough. I'll think about it."
She turned to leave, and he called out after her, "Rasina, wait! What about—?"
But she hailed a taxi with practiced ease before he could finish. She offered him a triumphant, fleeting smile just as she rolled up the window, the car pulling away and leaving Alfredo standing there in stunned silence. He looked back at his car and muttered while patting the hood, "How in God's name did she not like it? Don't be sad, my beauty... these girls are savage creatures."
"Celia, wake up! You're already late. Don't make it worse," Bianca said, shaking Celia, who had buried her head deep beneath a mountain of pillows.
Celia refused to budge. "Leave me alone, Bianca! I'm not going! I can't!"
"But why? What happened?"
Celia began to groan into the mattress, the memory of her impulsive act from the night before burning in her mind. Bianca jumped onto the bed. "Speak, damn it!"
When she finally managed to shove the pillow aside, Celia wailed, "Help me! I'm so embarrassed. How am I supposed to look him in the eye after what I did?"
"Okay, tell me what you did first."
Celia blew a stray lock of hair out of her face and recounted the story of showing up at his estate in the middle of the night with pancakes. Bianca burst into fit of laughter, nearly falling off the bed. "That's my girl! That's my crazy girl!"
"Shut up! What's so funny?"
"You're even more reckless than I am! I thought you were the sensible, poised one. Now I'm actually dying to meet this Alfredo!" Bianca said, bouncing with excitement.
Celia sighed, realizing she needed to keep this chaotic creature far away from her professional life before she ruined it entirely.
"Now listen, you have to go to work to avoid a bigger disaster. I'm sure Rodolfo won't reprimand you too harshly for being late. Just go!"
"But I—"
"Go. Just trust me."
"Fine," Celia said, collapsing back onto the bed for one last second of peace. "I'll try to cook up a lie to justify the delay."
Celia entered the corporate headquarters in her signature impeccable style: a high-end formal suit, though she had opted to leave the blazer off this time. Her long hair was pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail, and her elegant heels clicked against the floor with an air of authority. It was the "professional lady" mask she wore so skillfully to hide her internal turmoil.
She reached the engineering floor, where the staff was already hard at work. Several colleagues smiled or nodded in greeting as she passed. She reached her office, breathing a sigh of relief. "Ugh, finally, luck is on my side. I didn't run into him."
"I made it..." she whispered, opening her desk drawer.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that."
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to convince herself she was hallucinating his voice. She turned slowly to find him standing there, hands deep in his pockets. He had one eyebrow arched, staring at her with a gaze that felt like it was peeling back her skin.
"Well, Mr. Larsen, you want a battle of glances? Fine," she thought, locking her hazel eyes onto his piercing blue ones—the same eyes she felt herself beginning to drown in despite her resolve. But the "Machine" remained unchanged, his expression as provocative and cool as ever.
"Oh... well, I'm sorry I'm late. I was... unwell."
He lowered his eyebrow slightly but replied with that same maddening coolness. "Oh, of course. Perhaps the chill from last night affected you. I understand perfectly."
Shit. Why was he so intent on humiliating her when she was trying so hard to act as if nothing had happened?
"Uh... yes. I suppose so."
He leaned down slightly, bringing himself to her eye level, his voice dropping to a low, husky whisper. "I had a rough night as well. My stomach has been aching from something I ate. Are you quite sure about the quality of the ingredients you used, Celia?"
The shock that washed over her face was enough to cause a rare, fleeting laugh to escape his lips.
"Don't do something that reckless again," he added, his tone softening just a fraction. "It's dangerous for a girl like you."
With that, he turned and walked toward his office with confident strides. Celia stood frozen for several seconds, processing his words and that sudden, brief shift in his tone. She blinked twice, shaking the silly thoughts from her head, and hurried into her office, shutting the door behind her.
She took a deep breath... and couldn't help but smile.