HIS ENTERTAINER

chapter 38

            HERMANN RODRIGUEZ POV.

  "Fuck..." I muttered, the word a guttural expulsion of frustration and self-loathing.

"Shit," I added, the single word encapsulating the turmoil within. I stormed out of the restroom, the elegant party a distant, mocking echo.  I'd never felt so utterly, irrevocably shitty before. How could one woman – that woman – simultaneously fill me with a sense of completeness and leave me feeling so profoundly empty?

Richard was waiting by the car. "Did you see her?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.

"I did," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

"Where is she? Is she coming?"  His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a glimpse of Ivy.

"No," I whispered, the words tearing at my chest. "She's not."

"Hermann," Richard began, his voice heavy with unspoken questions. "Did you tell her about her mother? Or about Wilmert?"

"About Wilmert… Wilmert is exactly what she thinks he is," I said bitterly, the words a cruel admission of my own failings.

"Are you just going to let her go?" Richard's question carried the weight of a challenge, a judgment.

"I'm not going to use her mother as an excuse to drag her to me," I said, my head falling back against the car seat. "Because I did that once, and I ended up hurting her more than I ever intended."

"So, what's next?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Fuck," I cursed, the word a raw expression of my helplessness.

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                         IVY SILVER POV.

  My thoughts were a whirlwind,
a chaotic jumble of emotions, until the car pulled up to the house.
I glanced at Wilmert, he smiled, taking my hand in his. "I'm glad it's you," he murmured, his voice soft and tender.

"Me too," I whispered, the words a hollow echo of the truth. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my lips, but instead of warmth, I felt a dull ache in my chest.

"I should rest," I said, my voice betraying the tremor in my hands. He opened the car door, and I stumbled out, my legs feeling heavy and unsteady.  I barely registered his presence as he spoke with the strange man who escorted him the other day .
I walked inside, leaving him behind.

Sonia's excited squeal broke through my fog of exhaustion.  "You're back!" she exclaimed, jumping onto me.  I laughed, a brittle, strained sound.  Lucia's eyes widened, her gaze landing on the diamond ring on my finger.  Silvia's gasp of admiration followed.

"Yes, it is," I confirmed, their joy a stark contrast to the emptiness within me.

"Alright, let's give Ivy a break, shall we?" Lucia said gently, sensing my exhaustion.  The girls dispersed, leaving Lucia and me alone.

"What is it?" Lucia asked softly, her eyes searching mine.

"I don't know," I admitted, the words a confession of my own bewilderment.  Why Wilmert? Why this overwhelming longing for a man who was nothing but danger?  Why couldn't I open myself to Wilmert the way I once had?

Lucia's arms wrapped around me, a comforting shield against the storm raging within. I melted into her embrace, finding solace in her warmth.

   I awoke in my bedroom the next day,
the sunlight filtering through the curtains.  Wilmert stood by the window, his clothes rumpled, his hair disheveled.  His eyes were darker than usual, his face pale and drawn.  There was a vulnerability in his posture, a side of him I hadn't seen before.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly, my voice hesitant.

"I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Take your time.  My friends who missed the party would like to see my bride-to-be."  His hands gently cupped my cheeks.

"Wilmert—" I began, but he turned to leave.  "Can we talk about this?" I asked.

"About what, my love?" he asked, turning back to me, his eyes searching mine.

"Wilmert… I can't," I whispered, tears welling up.  "You can't? What do you mean?" His voice cracked, a hint of desperation in his tone.

I slipped the ring from my finger, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch.  "I'm sorry," I murmured, the words a confession of my own failure.

He laughed, a hollow, broken sound.  "It's because of him, isn't it?" His eyes hardened, his gaze intense.

"What do you mean?" I asked, though I already knew.  For the first time, I was terrified of Wilmert.

"Don't play games with me, Ivy!" he roared, his voice laced with a dangerous anger. "I know he was with you yesterday. Don't play dumb."

"Wil—I can explain—" I tried to interject, but he cut me off.

"Change of plans," he said, his voice cold and hard.  "I'm marrying you as soon as possible."  My heart plummeted.  "This… this isn't you," I whispered, my face draining of color.

"Apparently, you know nothing about me, sweetheart," he said, his voice devoid of warmth before striding out of the room, locking the door behind him.  The change was jarring, the shift from caring lover to cold captor swift and brutal.

I sank onto the bed, tears streaming down my face.  I held the ring in my palm, his words echoing in my mind:  "You don't know what I would do for you."  Perhaps I had hurt him beyond repair.  "Apparently, you know nothing about me, sweetheart."  That cold, distant tone was a stranger to me, a chilling revelation of a side of him I never knew existed. The fresh wound I had inflicted ached in my heart. It was my fault.

Midday, the door unlocked. Wilmert entered, carrying a tray of food.  He looked at me, his eyes softer now, the anger replaced by a weary sadness.  "You must be hungry," he said, his voice calmer, gentler.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

He placed the tray on the bed and sat beside me, his touch gentle as he traced my face.  "I really don't want to hurt you, Ivy," he said, his voice sincere.

"Well, don't," I replied, meeting his gaze.  "I don't like seeing you like that," he said, his thumb gently wiping away a tear. "That frown on your face… it stabs me."

"Wil—" I started, but he silenced me with a finger to my lips.

"I wanted to believe that if he's in your head, then he's only a nightmare," he said, his gaze intense. "Or is he a dream?"

"Wil, I—"

"Shh," he interrupted again.

A knock on the door. 
A man entered, his face impassive. "You have a guest" he announced.
Wilmert turned to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and hurt.  "Eat up," he said. "I'll be back soon."  He locked the door behind him. 
I stared out the window, the afternoon sunlight failing to penetrate the gloom within.  "A daydream, I suppose," I whispered.

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                WILMERT GRANTS POV.

"You're here," I said, my voice tight as Cora entered my office. 
"Congratulations, Mr. Grants," she said, a smirk playing on her lips, "the news is all over the internet" she added.

"Where's Morgan Silver?" I asked, my tone sharp.

"Relax," she said, pouring herself a glass of wine. "I'll get a hold of her soon enough.  Meanwhile, focus on marrying Ivy."

"Hermann dared to show up at the party," I said, my voice laced with frustration.  "Somehow, she's changing her mind."

She slammed her hand on the desk. "What the fuck? Don't let her change her mind! This is the perfect opportunity to pin the blame on Hermann."
"Make sure there's no doubt in her mind," she continued. "Make sure she hates him."

"It's a plan," I agreed, clinking my glass against hers, a toast to our twisted partnership.

Cora Tyson POV

I drove away from Roberto's residence, the engine a dull roar against the turmoil in my heart.  I had to pull over, gasping for air, the windows down, the fresh air a small comfort against the suffocating grief.

"Why… why her?" I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "I'm always there… why can't you look at me? Why can't you see that I'm better for you?"  My voice cracked, my heart aching with a pain so profound it threatened to consume me.

"You and the Italian Crown belong to me," I vowed, my voice hardening with resolve.  "I'll make you see that… even if it's the last thing I  do."

Thank you my dearest readers for reading this chapter, your support is my strength.
  Stay tuned for the upcoming one, they are full of Spicy, violence, love and ofcourse Revenge if it's any difference 😉. 
NB: ignore any grammatical mistakes