HIS ENTERTAINER

Chapter 31

              HERMANN RODRIGUEZ POV.

The day bled into evening, a relentless pursuit of answers leaving me drained. My office, usually a haven of order, was a battlefield of scattered papers and half-empty coffee cups. Wilmert Grants. The Google search yielded little, a digital desert offering scant solace. I leaned back, the chair groaning under the weight of unanswered questions. Richard, my impulsive decision to send him on that mission, gnawed at me. He would have unearthed the truth about Grants far quicker than these…imbeciles.

"Darling," Cora's voice, a hand reaching into the darkness, pulled me back. "Nonna's here." A smile touched her lips, a fragile bloom in the gloom. "I'll be there in a minute," I managed, my voice rough. She glanced around the room before leaving, I drew a deep, shuddering breath.

"Stai prendendo bene i tuoi pasti?" (Are you eating properly?) Nonna's voice, laced with concern, was a warm blanket against the chill of my despair.

"Sì, Nonna," (Yes, Grandma) I replied, letting her embrace me, the familiar scent of her perfume a fragile anchor.

"Sono preoccupato per te, Hermann," (I'm worried about you, Hermann) she said, her voice heavy with unspoken fears. Her hand on my cheek was a silent caress, her gaze searching, revealing the depth of her worry.

"Non essere, sto bene, Nonna," (Don't worry, I'm fine, Grandma) I lied, the words a hollow echo in the vast emptiness within. She let it rest, a silent acknowledgment of my deception.

I pulled out a chair, settling opposite. "Ti amo, mio bambino d'oro," (I love you, my golden child) she whispered, her fingers tracing the lines of my hand. "Norman spoke to me," she continued, her voice low, "about what happened."

"It's past, Nonna. It doesn't matter," I insisted, the words a desperate shield against the truth.

Her gaze, unwavering, stripped away my defenses. "Tu la ami?" (Do you love her?) The question hung in the air, a stark, brutal challenge.

I hesitated, the silence a chasm of unspoken emotions. Then, a raw confession escaped. "Non lo so," (I don't know). The honesty was terrifying, a brutal self-assessment.  The uncertainty was a relentless torment. Why did I feel this way? She was nothing to me. Or so I desperately tried to convince myself.

I'd vowed to leave Ivy alone, to accept her choice. She hadn't been forced. Yet, the ache in my chest, the relentless longing, was a constant, agonizing reminder of my failure. The pain echoed my past, the vulnerability of abandonment. I'd opened my heart again, only to be left shattered. I craved a different outcome, a different reality.

"Potresti essere confuso su come si sente l'amore, ma sei consapevole che la sua presenza ti ha reso davvero felice," (You might be confused about love, but you know her presence brought you true happiness) Nonna said, her voice a gentle hand guiding me through the storm.

I pulled my chair closer, desperate for guidance. "Cosa dovrei fare?" (What should I do?) The question was a desperate plea, a cry from the depths of my soul. The suffocating absence of Ivy threatened to consume me. I needed her, more than I could ever have imagined.

Nonna's hand squeezed mine, her gaze unwavering. "La trovi," (Find her) she said, her voice a beacon of hope in the darkness.

_______________________________________________
                       CORA TYSON POV.

"La trovi," (Find her.) 

The old woman's words echoed in my ears, a stark command cutting through the fog of my confusion.  I lingered by the door, longer than intended, the weight of overheard conversations settling heavily on my shoulders.  The things I'd heard… they shouldn't have surprised me, yet they did.

His laptop,
open and abandoned, revealed the source of his preoccupation.  The search history, stark and undeniable, screamed Wilmert Grants.  Who was this Ivy, this phantom woman who haunted his thoughts, stole his heart while he was with me?, A whore, that's what she was.  Or was she something more? Something that resonated with him on a level I couldn't comprehend?

I wouldn't resort to petty arguments.  I needed a more calculated approach.  I settled onto a kitchen stool, pouring myself a generous measure of whiskey, the burn a welcome contrast to the icy chill of betrayal.  Genevieve entered, her presence a unwelcome intrusion.  The last thing I needed was more complications.

Genevieve, Hermann's closest confidante, was a woman I couldn't quite trust.  And yet, she seemed intimately connected to this Ivy, this woman everyone mourned.

"How was your day?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral, as she poured herself a drink.

"How are your wedding plans going?" she countered, her question a subtle deflection.

"Great," I replied, the word devoid of genuine enthusiasm.  Silence hung between us, thick and heavy.  "Speaking of the wedding, I've been thinking… if you're interested, would you help me with some of the planning?" I offered, a tentative olive branch.

"I'm not interested, thanks."  Her rejection was sharp, laced with a distinct lack of warmth.

"I'm just trying to be nice," I protested, my voice rising slightly.

"That's the problem," she retorted, turning and walking away, leaving me simmering in a potent cocktail of whiskey and simmering rage.

This wouldn't stand.
I wouldn't let her get away with this. I'd show her what it truly meant to underestimate me.

_______________________________________________
                       IVY SILVER POV.

"Don't answer that," Sonia mumbled, still fiddling with her bikini top.
"Yeah, spill. How was it?" Silvia pressed, grinning mischievously.
"Incredible," I blurted out, my eyes widening in surprise.  That was supposed to be an internal thought!
"Damn, Ivy," Silvia chuckled, a knowing look on her face. "Someone's feeling themselves."

"Okay, enough," Lucia sighed. "Let's just go swimming."

"Remember that girl who totally wasn't into Hermann Rodriguez?" Silvia teased, nudging me playfully. "Now she's all, 'Incredible' about him" She watched me, clearly enjoying my discomfort as the others giggled.

Seriously? I groaned inwardly.

It had been a few amazing days.
We'd had impromptu bathroom showers because Sonia was always hot, spent nights dancing badly, singing even worse, and having epic pillow fights.
But even all that fun couldn't completely erase Hermann from my mind.

"Aren't you coming in, Mrs. Grants?" Lucia asked, noticing I was still sitting there.

"Nah, I'll chill here for a bit," I said.  But Lucia wasn't easily deterred. She plopped down beside me.  "My back's killing me," she announced dramatically.

"Your back hurts?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't even," she laughed.  I joined in, the laughter easing some of the tension.

After a while, I blurted out, "Do you think I made the right choice?"

Lucia didn't sugarcoat it. "Forget 'right'. Are you happy?"

I paused, the question hitting me harder than I expected. "I thought I would be," I admitted.

"Hey," Lucia said, putting a hand on mine. "Only you know what's best for you."

"You know what?" I said, a sudden burst of energy hitting me.

"Hit me."

"Let's swim. Forget I even asked. I'm overthinking again. Wilmert… he's the right choice," I declared, jumping up and throwing off my cover-up. I plunged into the pool with a whoop, the cool water washing away some of the uncertainty.

But am I really happy? That nagging question still lingered.

Thanks so much for reading this chapter my darling readers. Your support is my strength.
Love you all and stay tuned for more 😘.
NB: ignore any grammatical mistakes 😁.