BELLA MARTIN 2

Martin "We'll make a plan next week, son," my father said on the other end of the line, as I clenched my teeth, trying to bite back my rage. "Perhaps when your mom is at one of her never ending charity meetings," I thought as I watched some other guy hit on the woman in the white dress at the bar. She yanked his hand off her ass and turned her back on him. I laughed unintentionally, not realizing my dad was on the phone. "Alright, Dad, contact me on Monday," I said, not really listening. He hung up after mumbling some nonsense. I drank all of my brandy. This was my reward for returning to Manila as my mother had requested. She can't stand the fact that I actually lived in a "bad town" in Quezon Province, and my father didn't like the fact that I would be a lowly pediatrician when he assumed I might be something with more status, like a brain surgeon or whatever, if I wasn't going to join the family business like my brothers. My mom and dad promised me the warmth of family commitment, my own pediatric free clinic, and freedom in the city, not to acknowledge authority over my own charity, Friendship That Lasts Forever Foundation, which really is good enough to justify millions of dollars. It was a substantial prize, and the prospect of all the good I can do with it had drew me back to the city. Instead doing good and living the good life of a wealthy, eligible bachelor, I was trapped in the eternal petty squabbling between my mom and dad and what they would want from me. I'd been away from the family for so long on the province that nostalEmma had taken over. I'd managed to forget how much of a pain they were. At the very least, I was done with my father's conniving club. The place was simply teeming with men with too much money and women wanting to spend it. My skin crawled just being here. I couldn't think he really wanted me to meet him here. Was he really expecting me to want to go where he met his bimbos? He was still married to my mother. I glared at my phone, as if my father could see me through it. Despite the fact that he had hung up. It's not even a video call. While I waited for my credit card to clear, after I summoned a waitress to pay my bill, I scanned the establishment. My gaze returned to the lady in the white gown, who was angrily staring at her phone. I could not really help but laugh once more when she started talking to it, not into it, but at it, her face energetic and expressive, in contrast to the flawlessness of her outfit and shoes and the way she'd been sitting at the bar as cool as the moon... I decided to sign my bill while keeping my eyes on her. There is something really unusual about her. She, too, didn't belong here. She was bursting with energy. She wasn't one of these charlatans. I stood up, drawn to her, and found myself starting to lean against the bar without trying to think as she texted something shortly and then placed the phone face-down on the bar, mumbling under her breath. I let out a chuckle before thinking carefully about how I was about to become the latest in a long line of creepy rich dudes trying to hit on this woman. "Did you get stood up as well?" She turned slowly, like she’d been caught, which she had. Her eyes were honey brown with golden rays and full of surprise, vulnerability and a warmth that sparked something in me. Lights went off in my head. Sparklers. Fireworks. I watched as she pulled back the honesty of her eyes and put up walls. She straightened her spine into an elegant line and turned to me. “Excuse me?” she said. Her voice was rich and musical, with a hint of something sweet, like chocolate syrup. I chuckled at my desire to hear it again, to see those warm honey eyes sparkle once more. "I'm Martin," I said, holding out my palm for her to shake. She glanced at it as if it were a trick, before accepting it in her hands and giving me a remarkably firm shake. "Arabella," she cooed, batting her lashes. Considering the length of her lashes and the seductive makeup, she looked so young, fresh, and fun - loving. She drew her shoulders back and pushed her chest out, but her eyes were fixed on mine, assessing my response to her not insignificant endowments. It was a dare, and I had to bite my smirk. I didn't really look down at her display. "You appear to have just had a conversation similar to the one I just had." Someone decided to cancel on me as well." Her eyes seem to have been enormous. In those eyes, I could drown. I really wanted to. I moved in closer to her. She did smell like roses and also something deeper, aromatic and seductive. But not by the dress or the cleavage. The mumbling, doubt, and those eyes all drew me in. The boobs she was flaunting were a test, not a seduction. She hadn't even attempted it. As far as I can really tell, she was attempting to avoid seducing anyone. The red lips, smoky eyes, and cleavage were all a ruse, and she had no regard anybody who fell for it. Despite the mask, I'd been bewitched. Again, fireworks erupted within me. I was powerless to stop them. Something told me that my life had suddenly changed for no apparent reason. I considered myself to be a man of science. This should not be occurring. I didn't mind. Her full lips remained parted as her eyes locked on mine. I really want to lick her glossy red lipstick off so I could suck on her pink lips and claim them for myself. She flinched, then started shaking her head, releasing a throaty laugh. Was she able to see inside me the same way I saw from within her? She looked over at the phone, and I saw her consider being honest with me between one moment and the next. and then not. "It's his loss," she said, and the music in her voice sent chills up my spine. The music energized me. I wanted to take her hand, but I wasn't ready yet. I'd have to be cautious. She was having fun here. I had to mimic her movements. I slowly nodded. “Yes. It's his loss. But could it be my loss? " The question lingered in my voice. "I might be married," she said, narrowing her eyes at me. "Perhaps I was meeting with my husband." I returned her stare with my eyes narrowed. "Are you sure? That is, married. Did your husband back out on you? ” "I'm not sure I'd have waited this long if my husband had kept me waiting for two hours." Her voice had lost its allure. It was abrasive with a sarcastic undertone. Real. I'd gained a point. I felt my smile widen and become more wild. "Therefore, no husband. Boyfriend? " I inquired, my brow furrowed. I knew there couldn't be. If there was, she wouldn't be flirting with me. I had a feeling. She shook her head. "Do you want to get out of here?" "What?" she asked as she drew away from me. You're not going to offer to take me to Paris on your private jet? Jewelry? If I agree to be your mistress, I'll get an apartment on a nice condo building. Those are the only things men have decided to offer me tonight," she scoffed. I was taken aback by the surge of revulsion as well as I felt. That was the final straw. Protectiveness. I wanted to keep her safe from the men in this bar, men like my brothers and father. Men I'd known my entire life. "Was that all they said to you all night?" “What?” "When you kept declining them. Did they believe you were...were they...trying to buy you? ” "Did you notice?" Her brow arched with cynicism. There was just no way I'm going to tell her about the rage I was feeling as I watched them hit on her. Or the satisfaction and pride I felt at how quickly she dispatched them. I am a man of science. And this made absolutely no sense. With a cool shrug, I lifted one shoulder. "You didn't seem to really like it, but you had it under control. I could do nothing but observe you while I waited to be stood up. You're very attractive," she started raising her chin. Put up her defenses. She shook her head. "I suppose I didn't have anything else to do." "You were watching everyone. I noticed you." Her pupils constricted. "I like to know what's going on," she said, her tone firm. "As you should," I said, starting to think about what kind of things the men in this bar got up to. "I wouldn't put my trust in these guys as far as I could hurl them." "Are you, Martin, not one of these men?" I burst out laughing and looked down at myself before looking out at the men. I had to confess she was correct, despite the differences in age and appearance. Authority. Money. Grooming. Even my suit – I'd actually dressed like my dad had requested, presumably to please the man. "I've tried for years not to be like them, Arabella." She pouted her lips almost like she's going to kiss, then lifted an eyebrow and let out a skeptical "Hmm." I really like her. "You're too decent for this place, Arabella." Would you rather have a burger or something? There's a decent diner around the street. We can enjoy each others company now that we're both stood up." She then turned away from me and fiddled with the stem of her cocktail glass, contemplating. I was certain that she was thinking of adding me to the list of creeps she'd rejected tonight, and I was astounded by how quickly my stomach sank. I hoped she'd say yes. I wanted to learn more about her. Her voice, on the other hand, was strong and steady. "I'd like to depart with you," she said, standing up with both hands on the bar. She turned and moved closer to me, almost pressing up against by the length of my body. "But I don't want to go to a diner," she said, her lips close to my ear. Her voice was low and sultry. "I don't get many free nights. I don't get to meet more people. I'd just want to–" her voice trailed off, as if she had been frightened to say it. My hands rose to rest at the curve of her waist, as if I needed to touch her. “What? " I was optimistic. "I'd like you to take me home with you," she said quietly. "All right," I replied, and guided her out of the slime pit bar with a hand on the small of her back. I didn't think too hard about it; I just called a taxi. Arabella leaned into me as pretty shortly after we stepped into the taxi, pressing a scorching kiss into my mouth, her lips hungry. I could feel her despair; she needed that kiss like a woman dying of thirst in the desert. She pushed me back against the seat and got on top of me to kiss me even more fervently. "Hey," I said, brushing my lips against hers. "It's all right. Slow down." I caressed her soft lips with my thumb as I placed a hand on her cheek. The gleaming red lipstick had already worn off. I was most likely wearing it. Her lips had turned pink. Pink and genuine. I then softened the kiss, gently caressing her bare lips with mine. Repeatedly. She sighed, tracing the tip of her tongue over my lips before trying to kiss me again, this time with a whisper of a touch. "Yeah," I said, beginning to feel the whisper all the way down to my toes. "Yeah," I said as I sat up, trying to bring her with me. She intertwined her fingers in my hair and pressed her lips to a shivering spot under my ear. "This is something I never do. This is so not me." “No?" I inquired, trying to encourage her to elaborate. I would want anything she had to offer. "I don't go out a lot, and I don't meet men." I didn't inquire about the person she was supposed to meet inside that bar. I didn't really want to know, a jealousy surge told me. I didn't wish her to be with another man in that bar. She'd come to greet me. I was the person she was expected to meet. "It's okay," I said, "we're not obligated to do anything you don't want to." "But I really want to," she said, her voice cracked, a far cry from the graceful woman who had fixed everybody in the bar with the cold stare. "I really want to, but I don't do this things. This isn't me," she gripped my arms. “You still want me to bring you home with me?" She nudged my neck. "Mm okay," I said, running my fingers through her hair. It felt like silk. Warm and eerie. Tendrils are wrapping themselves around me. I kissed her on the temple. "We're nearly there. Okay, whatever you want. That's fine. If you prefer, we can just talk." She groaned into my skin, and I'm not proud of how much that made me really want hurl her down on her back and take her right there and in the taxi, but thank goodness it pulled up in front of my location right then. "We're here," I told her, and she nodded thoughtfully before snatching my hand and dragging her fingertips over my lips. "You've got lipstick all over you." I did the same thing to her, wrapping my fingers around her jaw and drawing my thumb over her entire bottom lip. "No, you didn't. "I only wanted to touch you," she chuckled as I took her hand in mine and led her into the hallway. "This is a really huge building," she said as the elevator door shut and only the two of us were inside. “Expensive.” "I, uh, did inherit this apartment," I explained, suddenly ashamed as I took out the key and implanted it into the elevator button. The top floor belonged to me. I had the entire top floor to myself. I'd lived in a small bungalow on the water in Quezon province, and that had been plenty of glamour for me. But here in Manila, I was back in the glittering life. The life I'd attempted to flee behind and still hadn't actually let go of. This condo alone was worth millions of pesos, and that didn't include the interior designer my mother had offered a job when she discovered that I was returning home. I didn't want to bring it up now. It did make me feel like a fraud. "The whole top floor," she calculated with her eyes. "I thought you tried to say you were not really one of those guys in there." Those wealthy men who wanted to purchase me." I tucked my key away. “No. I stated that I was attempting not to be one of them. People aren't up for grabs. Regardless of just how much money you have." "And you have it," she said, sceptical and dissatisfied. Not at all predatory. I lifted one shoulder and then let it fall. "I try to do the best I can with what I've got." "You've got a lot." I nodded but didn't want to get into an argument. Now that I was all alone her, I had to confess that I wanted her, that I really want her so bad that I couldn't keep my hands off of her. So I didn't try again. I reached out and immediately grabbed her hand, yanking her closer to me. She stumbled into me, her cheeks flushed with a dark blush. "I'm sorry," she apologized, embarrassed. "I'm not," I said, touching the back of her neck and kissing her passionately. She moaned... That sound made me want to consume her... and she gripped at my shoulders, kissing me back. It was only a matter of seconds before the elevator door dinged and it slid open. I raised my head. "We're here," I announced. I knew that wouldn't be long. I simply had to have her. "Home sweet home," they say. I took her hand in mine and guided her into the main hall. "Are you home, sweet home?" " She said, her heels tapping on the marble floors. "I think this is a palace in the sky," she said, coming to a halt in front of the painting that the interior designer had created as the centerpiece. "Is this..." she asked, pointing to the scenery. "Does this seem like Rousseau?" ” "You understand art, then." "Just a little, but..." she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows in astonishment. I preferred her without the red lipstick. “Rousseau. That's, uh, it. That's extremely spectacular." "It was also inherited." "Ah," she admitted. “Penthouse. Rousseau..." she said, looking across the living room at the expansive views of the Manila Skyline. Everything mentioned money. There was no way to conceal it. She didn't appear to be fascinated. She really shouldn’t have been. "I think you might have been a king, Martin," she teased, but not in a flattering way. It felt even worse. My stomach churned. "Do not even call me that," I told her, a dark rage rising within me. She noticed it. She witnessed everything. “Hmm. Maybe we don't discuss about ourselves hmm?" “No?" I was still regaining control of myself – and the frustration that had been stewing for a while." She shrugged her shoulders and approached me. she started to stalk me . Then she came to a halt, out of my grasp. “No. As I previously stated, this is not really me. This is not something I do." “This?” “I don't go home with attractive and stylish billionaires I don’t know.” “Good. You really shouldn't." I knew quite a few of them. They were filthy. "I understand. And I'm not supposed to be here. But I'm allowing myself to. Only this once. "Because I want to," she swallowed, as if it were a difficult thing to admit. "Because I'm interested in you." "You're welcome to have me," I said. I already felt like I belonged to her. "Just for one night." "For one–" It hit me square in the gut. I didn't want to limit myself to just one night. But she remained standing, her emotions in her eyes, ready to flee. She didn't do this very often. She was not the graceful queen from the bar. She'd sent out all those men with ease, but now there was only hunger and yearning and...sadness. I took a step closer to her. Feelings of emptiness. I wanted to make her feel less lonely. "Only for one night," I said. I'd see if I could persuade her otherwise. For the time being, I'd agree. "We can do one night," I said with a smile. "It's going to be a fantastic evening."