Billionaire Daredevil In Love

CLAYTON.

I hated nothing more than humiliation. Public disgrace was something that clung on to its victim like a leech – hard to get rid of. While Bella laughed, I felt this overwhelming urge to slap her across the face, and remind her, in the harshest language, that I was still Clayton Rocco, a billionaire, and she was nothing. People were beginning to look in our direction because of how uproarious her laughter was

“Will you cut it the fuck out?!?!” I said. What the fuck is so funny?”

“I’m … sorry,” she said, trying to collect herself. “It’s just … I’m sorry.”

She stood up and left. Rage burned inside of me like a flame that had been fed with fuel and I remembered who had put me in this shameful position – Nadine.

“That fucking bitch!” I said through clenched teeth. I banged my fist on the table and it rattled the drinks on it, causing some of them to spill.

“Man, what happened?” Trent said walking over from where he had been standing. “Where’s Bella?”

“She left,” I told him, getting on my feet.

“And where are you going?” He asked.

“I’m leaving, too, man,” I said, “I’m just too tired.”

I tried to sound as calm as possible, but Trent knew me too well and knew that I was angry about something. He followed me as I walked to the car.

“Did she do or say something wrong?” He said.

“The fucking bitch had the video,” I said

“Wait. What video?” He asked.

“The video, of course,” I said with my voice raised. “The video that fucking bitch, Nadine, recorded when she slapped me. God, I hate her!”

“Ohh, man,” he said, placing a hand across my back. “You’ve gotta calm down.”

I brushed his hand off and stepped inside the car.

“Too bad you have to go, man,” he said, peeping in through the passenger window. “But I’m gonna call you later, okay?”

I wound up the glasses without responding to him and instructed the driver to move the car. He eased it onto the road and we began our journey home.

“I’ll show that filthy bitch,” I said to myself.

Nadine:

Later in the afternoon, the butler came back and said I had a call from Anna. Ever eager to hear from my baby sister, I leaped from the bed, throwing away the crime novel I’d tried to engross myself in all day.

“Anna?’ I called.

She did not answer. I heard her sobbing over the phone and my heart started to drum a panicky rhythm.

“Oh, no, Anna,” I said. “What is it? Please, talk to me.”

“Can-cancer,” she stuttered.

“What?” I asked.

“I had the scan, Nadine,” she said between sobs, “and the doctor said I have cancer.”

“Fuck!” I let out. I almost let the phone drop again, but I knew I had to be strong, if only for my sister.

“Leukemia,” she said. “Cancer of the blood. I have cancer of the blood.”

“Is Naomi there?” I asked, already shivering with the horror of the news. “Can I speak to her?”

“Nadine?” Naomi said when she got on the phone.

“Naomi, what the fuck is going on?” I questioned.

“Relax, Nadine, it’s-” she started.

“Don’t fucking tell me to relax,” I yelled. “What do you even mean by that?”

“Listen to me,” she said, “the cancer in her blood is in its early stage. It’s not a fucking death sentence. There’s still hope that something can be done. The doctor even said that the growth and proliferation of the cancer cells can be suppressed with medications. She’ll be fine, Nadine.”

I tried to breathe.

“Please, Naomi, please,” I begged. “Take care of my sister for me. She’s all I have in the world.”

“I know, Nadine,” she said. “I’ll do my best.”

When we hung up, I bent over, crying, my body convulsing as the tears left me. I was in such anguish. I almost forgot that the butler was still in the room.

“Is there anything you’d like for me to get you, miss?” He asked.

I raised my head slowly.

“Can you get me the fuck out of here?” I said calmly. “Can you? And can you get those fucking cancerous cells out of my sister’s body? Can you?”

He stood still and shook his head sadly before turning to leave.

Throughout the day, I thought about Anna and her diagnosis. I remembered watching a commercial on television of cancer patients. They always looked skinny with sunken eyes and cheeks and bald heads. I tried to place Anna beside those images and I started to cry again.

“Not my Anna,” I said. “Not my Anna. No!”

I couldn’t do anything else, couldn’t read, couldn’t eat or drink. All I did was cry till I cried myself to sleep.

*

I don’t know for how long I was asleep, but I was suddenly woken by the sound of feet at the door, and someone pushing it open. I wondered who it could be, but then, Clayton walked in.

“What is this arrogant devil doing here?” I asked myself.

“Clayton,” I said aloud.

“Yes, bitch, it’s me,” he answered. “Your arch-nemesis. You thought I’d forgotten about you, eh?”

He walked closer to me and his heady perfume suffused the whole room.

“What do you want now?” I asked, terrified.

He said nothing. Instead he walked to one of the hooks on the wall where a flagellum was hung, and took it off.

“Have you ever heard of BDSM?” He said without turning to face me. “Bondage Discipline Sadomasochism. And this flagellum is one of the major instruments that is used during it.”

My heart pounded; I knew that the worst was about to happen. I wondered who had angered him because he seemed to be smoldering with suppressed anger.

“Clayton, please,” I begged him. “Not today.”

He walked closer to me, menacingly, a sinister smile on his face.

“Since you decided to disgrace me, bitch,” he said, “you’ll pay with your flesh.”

He raised the flagellum and the first lash landed on my flesh; I raised my voice in pain.