Chapter 8 Bruno AlcâNtara

• Bruno Alcântara
• Seeing my Goddess step off the plane, leaving me behind, was a clear sign I’d suffer the consequences of my mistakes. Not for sleeping with someone else, thinking it was her, but for promising I’d never drink to the point of doing something stupid again.
• As the plane took off, carrying me home without my wife, it brought back painful memories from a little over two years ago. I had been in New York for the launch of the “SMOKE” branch. My company was growing rapidly, and new branches needed to be opened in various locations. This week, it was San Diego’s turn.
• All the employees had already been hired, but I was irritated because, on the most important night for our company, my Goddess wasn’t by my side. She was out there, helping with tasks that my stepfather’s son should have been handling.
• I sighed deeply, rubbing my forehead to calm myself. I’d already tried calling Carolina a dozen times today alone, but all my calls went straight to voicemail.
• “Mr. Alcântara, the meeting is waiting for you,” the newly hired secretary said as she entered my office.
• “Thank you, I’m on my way,” I replied, standing up from behind my desk and putting on my suit jacket.
• The irritation was eating away at me. Even my damn clothes felt suffocating. I wanted my wife here with me, not off on some mission where the Swiss Madame was “indispensable.”
• I walked past the secretary and headed to the meeting with the directors and some employees. My goal was to ensure this branch was as solid as our headquarters in Rio de Janeiro.
• The meeting went smoothly, and we took the first steps to officially open the company here. I thanked everyone as they left the room to join the party happening in the building’s lobby. My eyes landed on Gustavo as he approached, a smile on his face.
• “Who would’ve thought you’d take the company this far?” he said, and I felt a sense of pride hearing that from him.
• “All thanks to an idiot who took a wrong turn,” I joked, laughing as we watched everyone leave the office, leaving us alone.
• He smiled, recalling how we first met, back when I ruled the slums. He and his brother Eduardo had taken a wrong turn onto one of the streets leading into my territory.
• “Good thing I did. But let’s leave that in the past. Where’s Carolina? I haven’t seen her,” he asked, and my irritation resurfaced.
• I watched him glance outside the office, probably looking for her. I took a deep breath, controlling my anger so he wouldn’t notice.
• “Knowing her…”
• I think he sensed my irritation and decided not to press further. I motioned toward my office, but he walked straight to the bar instead, pouring two drinks and handing me one.
• I knew I shouldn’t drink, especially whiskey. But with the rage boiling inside me, I didn’t care much. We had a few shots and then joined the party. Everything was well-organized. Guests were laughing and complimenting the event. A crowd gathered around me, hoping for a photo. I tried to smile, but I knew my face didn’t exactly exude charm.
• Walking alongside Gustavo was energizing. It was as if he were born for this corporate world. He talked to all the right people, and even though we were slightly more intoxicated than we should have been, no one seemed to notice.
• The party was a success, or so my assistant kept telling me all night. After it ended, I went back to my office, tossed my suit jacket on to the couch carelessly, and stared at the photo frame on my desk, which only made my anger worse. I’d already given up on calling her tonight.
• Since I had come straight from the airport to the company, my travel bag was on the couch. I loosened the tie that was suffocating me and walked over to the drinks table. I grabbed a glass and the bottle of Scotch Gustavo had gifted me earlier.
• I sat on the couch, poured a drink, and downed it in one go. The liquid burned its way down my throat, and as everything around me started to spin, I leaned back, hoping to fall asleep right there. My mind wandered, consumed by anger and longing for my wife, who I hadn’t seen in a week.
• I imagined her sitting on my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck while I encouraged her to grind against me. My arousal became unbearable when I felt a light brush against my lips.
• I instinctively pulled the warm body closer, seating her on top of me. Gripping her neck, I deepened the kiss I’d been craving. My hand slid to her ass, but that’s when I noticed something was different.
• Grabbing her hair, I pulled her away, realizing it wasn’t my wife. It was the damn secretary, staring at me with a look of desire and lust.
• Damn it. I’m dead.
• “Don’t stop…” she moaned, running her hands over my chest.
• I grabbed her hands. I was drunk, but I knew if Carolina found out what was happening, I’d be a dead man, probably by her own hands.
• “I’m married,” I said firmly, feeling the damn woman grinding on top of me.
• My traitorous body still enjoyed the sensations this opportunist was giving me. I sighed in discomfort as my cock strained against the fabric.
• "If she were important, I think she’d be here," she said, looking me straight in the eye.
• It’s a mistake…
• I can’t… I love my wife…
• At that moment, my desires, lust, and anger took over.
• "Just this once…" I said, gripping the woman’s neck.
• I subdued her, watching her moan as I tightened my hand around her throat. She began unbuttoning my shirt, revealing my muscles and tattoos. I released her neck to let her free herself and remove the red gala dress she was wearing. If she wanted to be fucked, she’d have to undress herself and me.
• The damn guilt would hit me hard tomorrow when I sobered up. When she finally wriggled out of the dress, I saw her sculpted body. She had a large tattoo that started at her chest and ended near the curve of her ass.
• I stared at her standing there in just black lace panties, which didn’t make her any more attractive. My eyes shifted to the whiskey bottle, and I took another swig straight from it.
• "I won’t touch you. If you want it, come and do it yourself. And you’d better have a condom," I said, furious and drunk, but not irresponsible.
• She might kill me for cheating, but not for recklessly fathering a child or catching something. The smile on her face faded as she rummaged through her bag, pulling out a small packet.
• I let her open the condom, but before she could put it on me, I grabbed the base of my cock.
• "Make the most of it because this is the only time. After this, you’ll disappear from my sight. Got it?" I said firmly.
• At that moment, I wasn’t Mr. Alcântara, CEO, or my goddess’s husband. I was Bruno, the ex-drug dealer who fucked whoever he wanted.
• I had been minding my own business, drinking, so now it was on her to take charge. This would be a secret I’d carry to my grave.
• She nodded and rolled the condom onto me.
• I leaned back on the couch and let her do whatever she wanted. I didn’t touch her, not once. My breathing quickened as I enjoyed the pleasure her pussy gave me. I gripped the damn cushion to avoid laying my hands on her.
• I was wrong. I knew that. But I couldn’t resist.
• I let my orgasm fill the condom, controlling my breathing as I lifted my head to see the satisfied smirk on her face. I stayed neutral, staring at the woman who was still grinding on my now-flaccid cock. In truth, I felt nauseated.
• "Get out!" I barked.
• "I thought you enjoyed it!" she replied indignantly.
• I grabbed her hair and pulled her toward me, watching her eyes widen in shock at my aggression.
• "I believe I wasn’t unclear. I said it would be just once, and then you’d…"
• "Leave!" she snapped, glaring at me.
• I released her hair roughly, watching her fall at my feet with an angry look.
• "I’m not a prostitute to be treated like this!"
• I smirked.
• "No, you’re much worse. You’re an opportunist. Now get out of my office. You’re fired," I said, standing from the couch.
• I grabbed my bag and left her there, fuming as she dressed herself. I headed into the bathroom attached to the office, removed the condom, and flushed it down the toilet.
• Completely naked, I stepped into the cold shower, furious at myself. I had made the biggest mistake of my life.
• I had betrayed the woman I love.
• I cried, angry with myself and the choice I had made in a moment of anger at being here without my wife. It wasn’t her fault. The blame was mine alone.
• Thinking about the consequences of that night two years ago made me realize that as soon as I got home, I’d likely be a dead man.
• I was sure my goddess would tell the council what happened. This time, there were witnesses, our soldiers, Vanessa, Gustavo, and probably that idiot Carrillo, who would exploit the situation to get close to my wife.
• But until my wife took action, I’d remain her husband. Whatever she decided, I’d accept the consequences. Carolina had forgiven me the first time, but I knew that if I stayed near her in the coming days, she’d probably kill me in a far worse way than when she kept me locked in Switzerland.
• I closed my eyes again, recalling the days I spent in that room beneath the Swiss house.
• She stood before me, wearing nothing but lingerie, her arms tied above her head. I was weakened. Carolina sat on a pouf in front of me. I had already begged for her forgiveness.
• I couldn’t keep lying, couldn’t hide what had happened with the secretary.
• We were at the restaurant when I saw her pacing, trying to fix things. She looked so happy, and the guilt ate away at me.
• When we were alone, I mustered the courage to say it:
• "I cheated on you."
• We had been there for almost a week. My body bore so many cuts I’d lost count of how many times she’d stitched me up to keep me from bleeding out.
• Since that day, she kept me in that room, subjecting me to cuts, shocks, whippings, hunger, thirst, and, worst of all, watching her find pleasure and orgasm with a vibrator.