The Billionaire’s Red

"Buenos días Bonita! (Good morning beautiful)" The gardener, Carlos greeted me as I got to the garden with a tray containing his food in my hands. Carlos Rodriguez was a forty-three-year-old man. He was the first friend I made in the US. It was about five years ago, I remember that night I had been around a dumpster searching for plastic bottles to be recycled for money when this guy walked up to me and stole all my plastic bottles. I took off chasing after him and ended up bumping into this man that appeared out of nowhere. I had immediately brought out my knife to defend myself as I had thought he was one of those men that tries to take advantage of young girls, I had encountered a few of them before that night. Carlos had raised his hands and said 'I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help you' in Spanish and I had been a bit surprised by his Mexican accent. 'Are you Mexican?' I had asked in Spanish and he had replied 'Sí'. To cut the long story short, Carlos was the reason

“M-Mr Marshall.” I stuttered. My heart was beating frantically in my chest. I unconsciously held my breath when his eyes fleeted across my face and then trailed down to my body. “The dress looks…perfect on you. You uh, you looked beautiful.” He said before meeting my eyes again. I should say thank you. I should thank him for the compliment and for gifting me the dress but I couldn’t. I couldn’t say anything because I’d temporarily lost the ability to speak. All I could do was look up at him with wide eyes and a stunned face. I was ridiculous, I looked ridiculous I know. I couldn’t understand how one man was able to make me lose the ability to control my own body. I looked away when I realized that I was staring more than what was appropriate. The last thing I wanted was for him to find out that I was attracted to him. I could lose my job if that happened. “Mr. Marshall do you—” “I told you to call me Dylan, Hera.” He cut me off, his breath hitting my cheek. My heart jumped a litt

Nina and I arrived home late like every year. And that was because we had to clean up after the guests.The first thing I pulled off when I entered my room was my shoes. A soft sigh escaped my lips. I had never felt more relieved than I did at that moment. I almost thought I was going to lose my toes. I pulled down the zipper of my dress and was just about to pull it off my shoulders when I heard a knock on my door. It was Nina, I knew that much ‘cause Amelia and her family were asleep when we got in. I opened the door for her even though I didn’t know what she wanted. I was stunned when I found out that it was Nina at my door but rather, the man of the house. “Mr. Marshall, what are you doing here?” The words left my mouth before I could stop myself. I couldn’t even hide the irritation I felt toward him and I was sure he could tell that I was mad at him. Maybe I had thought too highly of him. He wasn’t a man of his word and certainly wasn’t the gentleman I thought he was. Becaus

I wanted to believe that I heard Dylan wrong, I desperately wanted it to be my mind playing tricks on me. I wanted to believe that Dylan hadn’t just told me to not leave, he hadn’t just told me to stay. I wanted it to be my ears playing tricks on me but it wasn’t. Dylan had really told me not to go, he had really begged me not to leave. But, why?Was my massage really that good or did he want me to stay for other reasons?If so, what’s the reason? “Um, I’m not sure I heard you correctly, sir.” I said. “Hera, you don’t have to use that word with me. I’m not that much older than you are.” His eyes were still closed and I found myself wondering what word he was talking about. “I’m not sure I get what you mean, sir.” “Stop addressing me as ‘sir’” he breathed. “It makes me uncomfortable.” My lips formed an ‘o’ shape and I just sat there thinking about what to do. I mean do I continue massaging his temples or do I leave like I initially wanted to do? “I, um I thought you were asleep.

Crash!Crash!“YOU THINK SHE’S PRETTY? YOU FUCKING THINK SHE’S PRETTY? WHY THE HELL ARE YOH MARRIED TO ME THEN? WHY DON’T YOU GO FUCK HER YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” I and everyone else living in that house heard Amelia shout from her and Dylan’s room. Brie whimpered, sobbing quietly into my shirt before she hugged me tighter. It was a rainy Saturday night. Amelia and Dylan had started their infamous argument about ten minutes ago and I’d immediately rushed to Brie’s room to stay with her because I knew she would be worried and sad. “For goddamn sake Amelia, you asked me a question!” Dylan's voice rang. It was crazy how thin the walls of a house as huge as that were. “AND YOU ANSWERED LIKE THE CHEATING BASTARD THAT YOU ARE! GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME! IF IT’S HER YOU REALLY WANT THEN GO BE WITH HER YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE.” Crash!!!Crash!“LET ME GO DYLAN MARSHALL.” Crash!“Hera, is my mommy going to hurt my daddy?” Brie asked. Her big blue eyes filled with tears. I shook my head. “