Chapter 3: The Bitter Draught of Your Betrayal.

The journey was calm, with three stops: one to buy some delicious chocolate desserts, which Adara loved, although she tried not to eat them too often; the second stop to buy a lovely bottle of red wine; and the third to buy two dozen red roses. He wanted to surprise her with those beautiful details that his dear Adara cherished.

Her apartment was beautiful, very elegant and strategically located. He went up to the fifth floor, followed by his men, inserted his key into the door, and then took the roses and the bottle.

—You all wait here.

—Of course, sir— they replied in unison. He entered, closing the door behind him, headed to the living room to place the roses, and then went to the kitchen for a couple of glasses. His beloved had told him she was trying to rest, so she was probably asleep.

But no.

No.

It was not possible.

Upon arriving at the elegantly and well-decorated living room, he stopped, along with his breath and heartbeat... that was impossible. Adara's apartment was spacious, elegant, and luxurious, but not that big. Alexander looked down at the floor, where a red dress lay, a pair of men’s shoes, and a tie.

Damn, it couldn't be!

Anger and pain mixed in his chest. How was it possible? How? He wanted to explode in fury when feminine moans reached him; he cursed inwardly, his eyes filled with tears, and he closed his eyes to breathe and try to calm the urge to go back and ask one of his men for a weapon to deal with his unfaithful girlfriend and her lover. In the pocket of his jacket rested the velvet case that contained the ring he was supposed to give her, in his left hand the bottle of wine, and in his right hand the twenty-four red roses. He couldn't explain the pain that coursed through him.

Why?

Why was she cheating on him?

No, he couldn't let himself be dragged by anger, hatred, and despair. He couldn’t commit a crime; they weren’t worth it. He had a daughter to think about, a sick mother waiting for him. He couldn't do something stupid. Breathing several times, he walked to the elegant sofa, where he set down the roses, and quietly made his way to the kitchen, where he uncorked the bottle and poured himself a glass of wine, followed by the moans from the bedroom. He returned to the sofa and sat down, with the glass in front of him, as he tasted the liquid he enjoyed so much, but which ironically tasted so bitter at that moment. There he stayed, drinking from the glass, waiting...

He sat there for what felt like hours until the sounds ceased. He wanted to enter the bedroom but had made the decision not to move. She would come out at some point, and he wanted that to be the image she found: him sitting on the sofa in her living room, drinking wine while she was rolling around with someone else after offering him a romantic night. He felt disgust. How many times had that happened? Her having encounters with another man and then offering him her body... he felt repulsion towards that woman to whom he had given his heart. He pressed the glass tightly, as well as his teeth... he was an idiot, a complete idiot...

When he thought she would never come out, and he had drunk half the bottle, Adara appeared from the short hallway that led to the bedroom, her hair damp, her body covered by a silk robe, barefoot. When she looked up, she met his cold gaze. She stopped abruptly and then took a step back, her hands hanging at her sides, looking at him with wide-open eyes that immediately filled with tears. Alexander looked at her with hatred, feeling so much anger, but he suppressed it almost immediately.

—A... Alex...

—I thought you would never finish, you know... with whatever was keeping you so busy— the woman’s cheeks became wet.

—How long...?

—How long have I been here?— he smiled mischievously— long enough, believe me— he pointed at the bottle of wine. The woman looked at it, then observed the roses beside him on the sofa, her silent tears sliding down her face, replaced by new ones.

—I can... explain, Alex... ander.

—Surely you can— he took a sip of wine— a glass of wine— he looked at the dark liquid— for the bitter drink of your betrayal, Adara...

—Alexander, listen to me...

—What are you going to tell me? That it’s not what I think? The damn cliché phrase that all cheaters use as an excuse. — Although his words had a bitter and painful tone, his voice was firm and calm.

—Baby...

—I swear if you call me that again...— he tightened his jaw— this will end in tragedy. —Simply, if he hadn’t seen it, he wouldn’t have believed it— he shook his head— Oh my God, Adara! Do you think I’m an idiot?

—No... Of course not... this has... an explanation Ba, Alexander— she tried to get closer.

—If you dare to take another step towards me, I’ll break your neck— the woman stepped back and placed a hand on her chest at the strong threat, pronounced in that soft and calm voice— I suppose there must be an explanation; it will surely be very good, but I’m not going to listen to it— he placed the glass on the table and then stood up.

—Please... please...— Alexander reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet case, showing it to her.

—I came like an idiot, wanting to surprise you and ask you to be my wife— the woman cried, and her face distorted with tears, then Alexander put the box containing the ring back— but you don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve my love, my respect, you don’t even deserve my considerations.

—Let me explain, please...

—I'M READY TO EAT SOMETHING!— a shout in a male voice was heard. Alexander tightened his jaw and looked at her with disdain— What happened...?— the question remained unfinished when James Miller appeared from the hallway, his hair also damp, and the lower part covered by a bath towel— damn it...— he whispered as soon as he saw Alexander.

—With James Miller? This must be a joke, Adara— the man frowned— with your manager? Now I understand the long “work” hours, the many trips together, and... all that crap you said. I’ll leave the roses and what’s left of the wine here for you two to toast after such a steamy encounter— he smiled and turned to leave, while he heard the woman’s weak sobs.

—Alexander, please wait... give me the chance to...— Alexander turned to them, looking at both of them; the woman had taken a couple of steps to approach.

—Don’t even think about it, don’t you dare touch me, don’t come near me, don’t look for me, leave me alone or... I warn you, as for you, — he said to a silent James— if I see you again, I’ll kill you— and with that said, he walked to the door, slamming it shut behind him, listening to her cry.

—Sir...?

—We’re going back to the office, Jones.

—As you say, sir— the man replied.

—I’ll go ahead to get the car.

—Yes, Davis— he looked at his other bodyguard— I want to get out of here soon...

As he traveled back to the office, he thought about the mix of feelings inside him; rage, anger, hatred, disgust, revulsion... he had never imagined that Adara could do something like that to him... she hadn’t just broken his heart; she had shattered his pride, ruined his plans for a family... Regina, Regina wouldn’t have the mother figure she expected, his sick mother would feel disappointed when he told her he wouldn’t be getting married, and if that wasn’t enough, he would be caught in the middle of scandals, gossip, rumors; he would surely end up in tabloids, everyone trying to figure out why he had suddenly separated from the model.

He wanted to curse, not once, not twice, but a thousand times; everything, everything was ruined, everything had gone to waste. He closed his eyes, avoiding the tears of humiliation that threatened to escape, feeling too humiliated. All his life plans were ruined. How would he overcome this blow? After Iliana, he hadn’t loved anyone else. After seven long years of loneliness, with the occasional adventure, he had finally found love, only to end up like this; hurt and humiliated. He cursed the hour when Adara Black had entered his heart.

He could already imagine his mother lamenting, Regina, during all the vacations, lamenting once again her luck of having no one, but above all, he could imagine himself feeling pity for himself when he looked in the mirror and saw the face of a foolish man in love who had been cheated on.

Damned woman!

His vengeful vein activated; there had to be a solution, something he could do, something to regain his pride and deal a low blow to Adara and that idiot James Miller... but what?

—Sir, we are arriving— he heard Davis’s voice, one of his men. He opened his eyes and found him looking at him through the rearview mirror— I’ll enter the parking lot.

—No, Davis, drop me off at the main entrance.

—As you say, sir— the man said after nodding. After a few minutes, he parked the vehicle, and Alexander got out, followed by Oliver Jones.

—Go and park the vehicle— he said, speaking to the driver— I’ll go with Jones; you can catch up with us upstairs.

—Yes, sir. —Alexander sighed; he was supposed to have said goodbye to his secretary until the next day. The good thing was that he was the boss; no one would dare to ask anything or question him. Alexander began to walk up the stairs that would lead him to the entrance of his company, behind him and at a reasonable distance, Jones followed him silently. He saw someone approaching quickly towards him; he encountered a young woman who was crying and seemed oblivious to the fact that she was heading straight for him. The woman didn’t stop, and he braced for impact, receiving her against his chest. Jones moved closer, but with a gesture, he stopped him.

—Miss... are you okay?

—I... I’m sorry...— Gianna looked up to see the stranger who had spoken to her; she had crashed into him— I’m really sorry— she whimpered with despair— I’m sorry— she said again, sobbing. Alexander looked at her horrified by how the woman cried and by all the pain and anguish locked in her gaze.

—Calm down— he whispered— everything is fine.

—Nothing is fine!— she wailed, crying harder, before hugging him and seeking refuge in his chest to continue sobbing. Abundant tears slid down her cheeks. For a moment, Alexander didn’t know what to do, and Jones looked at him as if waiting for instructions, feeling pity for the woman and his own pain. He returned the gesture, wrapping her in his arms, holding her against him, feeling confused. The woman clung to him as if she