Page 14 of What She Wants

Marín

If I truly wasn’t so busyor getting a call every time I was around Esme, it would be fun to see if the game that I was playing was working.

Unfortunately for me, it wasn’t a game to be had. Hell, I wanted more than just to play some game with her and I know she knows that, that’s why she keeps on playing with me. The little cat and mouse game is cute but I want to make her knees buckle at every chance I get.

She doesn’t realize that we wouldn’t be some random sort of married couple where the passion fizzles out once we’re together, nah, we’re going to be even more passionate than before.

Esme doesn’t want to admit that she’s already mine. Even before I slid into her wet core, I knew that she was mine to have, to fold and to take raw when the chance presented itself but she’s running around pretending she doesn't notice me when she walks into a room that I’m already in.

Her wanting for me to acknowledge her presence when she sat by me and Yasmin was amusing for me. I liked her drink of choice just as much as I liked her little get ups that she wore around town.

I didn’t have to look very far to know what she wore because my damned mother just had to always release something about her.

One thing my mother doesn’t understand is that I don’t like what she does. She knows it and I know it but she doesn’t listen that the founders aren’t her enemy.

It’s always been anthey owe mebullshit narrative with her so she nitpicks on the Founders’ kids. Granted, they aren’t kids but it doesn’t change that she doesn’t know when to quit.

Of course she doesn’t talk about the Bishops because who the hell would and get away with it? And as for the Hales, mom wouldn’t mess with Oran Hale either but for some reason, because Esme has never said anything, she just makes up shit.

Before, it was just a shaking of the head with my mother but now, it’s more than that. Esme is going to be my wife, nah, scratch that, she is my wife. She’s Mrs Delgado so my mother is going to know that Esme is off limits.

That’s the only way she’ll stop.

* * *

Maybe my mother’s thoughts were a foreshadowing of something the night before because as of this morning, she’s gone and published a ridiculous article about Esme being in a thrupple with Bowie and Berke.

It’s laughable because I know that she hasn’t been able to focus on anyone else. Hell, I know I haven’t.

How long has it been since I’ve had her? I need to have her again.

My mind momentarily travels to the way my name leaves her mouth. The beautiful way she threw her head back when I entered her the first time. I can’t forget it no matter how much I try to concentrate on anything else.

Esme LeClaire has taken over my mind, body and even my time without either of us going on a first date.

That doesn’t matter though because once I get her in my bed again, she’s not going to leave. She already knows that we’re going to get married even if I have to throw her over my shoulder and march down the aisle with her.

For now, I need to get ready and face my mother. She needs to tell me why she thinks it’s okay to plaster my wife’s face all over these damn blogs with a false narrative.

Will my mother be shocked, probably and do I care? Absolutely not.

My mind wanders as I drive to my mother’s place of business. It has to wander so that I don’t go off on her and make her think we have beef just because I’m correcting her.

It doesn’t take me too long to get to my destination and once I do, I park and get out of the car. As I head to her office, none of her staff say anything to me outside a quick hello. They’re good at keeping their distance with me because my mother has the common sense to not include me in her tabloid bullshit.

“Hi,mijo. What brings you in?”

Mireya León is a hardcore working woman with a chip on her shoulder but it’s not all bad because I got it from her.

I walk like nothing can get me down and that’s the way it is. The only difference besides our looks—since I favor my dad— is that I don’t hold a grudge. It’s too much work and I don’t have time to continue my life with that nonsense.

“Mamá,I know you know why I’m here. Let’s not play pretend.”

She gives me that innocent look but I know her. My mother may not publish my life but she is nosy enough to be in the know.

“No more Esme banter.”

“I don’t go to your office and tell you how to conduct your business, so no.” She answers bluntly.

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