02

Lázzaro couldn't deny that he felt a strong and strange connection with that girl, which he had never seen before, it was just a girl in his vision, however his treacherous and womanizing body didn't think the same way when he got excited touching only inches of her. Lia's soft, warm skin.

On the other hand, he immediately tried to scold himself. She was a beggar, a wanderer or even a call girl. What would a "decent" girl be doing on the street at such a time and alone if it wasn't something like that? Besides, her torn clothes also revealed the critical state of poverty in which the girl lived.

He was indignant when he realized that he had been thinking too long about Lia Hamilton as he drove home, still swallowing the doubt of not knowing why she was there, alone, in the street, at dawn... He felt almost worried, and again he was angry with himself.

However, it had been a lot of fun the way she reacted to his presence. For a few minutes Lázzaro even forgot to feel anger or bitterness inside himself, nor did he treat her rudely, which was a characteristic and personality of him.

But once and for all he would forget all that.

Upon getting into the car all his demons came back and he needed to face them.

He already had enough problems on his mind. Lázzaro was a wreck inside, the day before he had received the worst news of his life, a damned lump between his lung and his heart, well hidden and that's why there were never any symptoms before, it was only possible to discover it after he felt sick in a family dinner.

— I'm sorry, Senhor Bartolomeu, but you only have one year left until the lump grows. The swelling will cause severe pain and may even lead to a heart attack.

The doctor's words still resounding in his ears as his heart gradually tore apart, his world closing in, engulfing him in the same intensity as his ground was being pulled away and his pain seemed greater second by second.

He would probably die in a year. An emptiness greater than he had felt since he was little took him completely and he didn't know what to do to change something in his life, except to close himself in a cocoon and wait for it to happen. There was nothing to be done.

— Good morning, Mr Bartholomeu. Miss D'Ávila is waiting in the office. — Magdalena, the housekeeper, told him when she entered the hall.

Lazzaro snorted in stress.

"Soon?" I wanted to at least lay on my fucking pillow with no one to give me hell. One day at least! he grunted and stomped to the office.

When he entered the rustically decorated room, he looked at the black woman with perfectly manicured skin, tall and with curly hair in an impeccable hairstyle, dressed in elegant social clothes.

— Good morning and before you start ranting, I'm here to talk business, although I'm very worried about you, I know how much you hate displays of affection. - the girl spoke in advance.

“Okay, Marjorie. Tell me, what are you doing here? He rolled his eyes as he sat down in his chair, removing his tie completely and then lighting a cigarette.

The woman walked away grimacing at the strong smell of smoke.

— Your stepmother and children have filed a lawsuit to ask for half of your assets. she expounded.

He sighed, not being affected as much as Marjorie had thought, he already expected an attitude like that from his damned ex stepmother who never got along with the fact that Leopoldo had left only Lazzaro all the fortune and not a penny for her and the children.

— Damned bitch. he said through gritted teeth. Why can't she accept that my father left this rubbish money to me, and me alone? I don't intend to share something my father fought so hard to have, his leaving everything he had to me, it just makes me think of how he trusted my potential to take care of something so important and valuable to him. Lazzaro said with little emotion but anger.

“She keeps claiming that Hayden is Leopold's son, even though the DNA test says otherwise. You even asked her to choose the clinic claiming that you and your employees are falsifying the tests. - Marjorie revealed and then the tired and stressed man lit another cigarette when the first one was gone too quickly.

“I hate all that shit. I didn't ask for any money, because I made my own fortune. My dad just left it with me so it wouldn't go down the drain with bullshit, which is what Joyce is capable of doing if she gets her hands on the money. He took a drag on his cigarette.

“But the main reason I had to come so early is the fact that she's in great danger of getting it this time. The judge granted her the chance to have her son's DNA tested at another clinic, even if it's under court supervision, you know how Joyce is capable of anything to get what she wants, I don't like to underestimate her. Beautiful Marjorie had a mixture of worry and fear in her eyes.

Lázzaro clenched his fists too angrily to say any words but endless curses.

"And what do you think I should do?" he questioned pouring himself a full glass of whiskey.

“Maybe you won't like my idea very much. However, for the moment it is the most appropriate. she warned before saying.

“Speak up, Marjorie. You know I hate rodeos. Straight to the point, let's go! he rudely urged her on.

— Temporarily you should transfer all your assets, yours and those your father left you, to the name of someone else, someone who is not your family circle. — launched the resolution.

He could explode with rage at that moment, there were so many bad things happening together that maybe dying would really be the best option.

- This is impossible. I don't trust anyone to that extreme. - He commented indignantly.

“We have a week before Joyce Gomez's next petition hearing with the judge. Hopefully by then we'll be able to resolve this issue. — Marjorie D'Ávila picked up her bag and walked towards Lázzaro — I'll do my best to help you, but it also depends on you. — With a lingering kiss on his cheek, the woman said goodbye.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he yelled, throwing his empty glass of alcohol away.

"Lazzaro?" Marjorie returned as if she had remembered something.

- What is it? Forgot something?

- No. But I just remembered that clause in the will. —he looked at her in disbelief —which says that the new lady Bartholomeu could also be the mistress of everything in her place.

— The new Madame Bartholomeu?

"I think the booze and cigarettes are making you stupid." she exclaimed impatiently. That means you must get married! Your father really wanted you, his only son, to own everything and build a legacy, a legacy is only made through a family, something you don't have since every day is a different one in your bed.

“Don't say that word again with me. Marriage? Are you crazy? Lazzaro snapped as if Marjorie was bluffing.

“You don't have to love someone to get married. It's just for convenience.

— Which amounts to the same as the first option, since I don't trust anyone to the point of marrying to deliver my father's legacy.

"Sometimes it's so hard to help you!" We are back to square one. I'll try to think of anything else, however I can't do it all myself. See if you can make an effort to help yourself .

Marjorie is gone. Then he felt his face boil with hatred for everything. Lázzaro felt lost, failed, bewildered and with no more apparent reason to live with all his problems gradually swallowing him up as if at any moment the universe was ready to finish him off.

Going to his room with hatred burning in his chest, he found one of the maids cleaning a piece of furniture in a completely exposed position, when he saw the boss approaching she pretended to be surprised and straightened her posture.

— Good morning, Senhor Bartholomeu... —he greeted him biting his lips. It wasn't the first time she'd made advances to him.

- Good morning Nadia! he answered and went into his room.

He had so many women at his feet, all the ones he wanted, of all types and varieties. Sometimes the slightest grace no longer existed, everything was always monotonous and the same. Why would he waste time getting involved with a maid?

After feeling his chest calm the hatred, he went to the bathroom where he took a long cold shower and then walked to bed with only a black robe. There he tossed and turned in bed for several hours before falling asleep.

Half an hour later Lázzaro woke up sweating after having a strange dream about the girl he almost ran over earlier. In the dream he touched even more intimately the smooth skin of the girl who purred in satisfaction. He tasted every bit of her and he didn't remember if he had even tasted someone so tasty – he was scared. He looked at his bottom and it was very, very hard.

Cursing he went to the bathroom to take another shower, he would refuse to touch himself thinking of a beggar and strange nymphet. It was almost three o'clock in the afternoon when he decided that he was going to take a drive through the streets of the city, he needed to breathe some fresh air and get drunk again like there was no tomorrow.

He wore a long-sleeved black button-down shirt, since he often refused to go out without social clothes – even for casual encounters –, black jeans and also social shoes, taking the path through the city streets. With no clear direction of where to go.

Lázzaro had been driving for two straight hours and the next thing he knew, he was passing by the place from earlier again, where he had almost run over Lia.

Driving some more, his crazy heart couldn't keep from skipping a beat when he caught sight of the same dark hair and slim body he'd touched earlier in the morning. It was her, Lia Hamilton was sitting there on the sidewalk of a street, almost dusk and... She was crying, crying a lot.