No, girl, of course I'm not joining some group of delusional billionaires who think they're the Justice League. I'm not playing vigilante. That shit scares me. I know I want to see them again, and freeing those women filled me with pride, but there have to be people way more qualified than the five of us to do something like that.
Oh no… As soon as I say it, I realize they must know there are victims out there right now, praying to be rescued… Damn it. I know myself too well. That thought is going to keep growing in my head…
Luckily, a message from Evangelina pulled me out of that spiral: "Irina, tomorrow morning. You're going to love it, I promise. In two days, you'll be a pro."
I fell asleep watching a documentary about Mr. Longfield. They weren't kind to him. They claimed all his good deeds came from Diana, his wife, and that she was tired of the marriage, had cheated on him, and hated being pushed aside from decisions just to raise the kids. They even suggested her death in that horseback riding accident happened because she was drunk. It made me furious that they would invent so much garbage just to force the Longfields to come out and deny it or to squeeze money out of them in exchange for silence.
But only three minutes later… the journalist, visibly nervous, had to publicly apologize and admit the information wasn't true. He thanked the new Longfield-Bance empire for their patience in allowing such a serious mistake to go without consequences. Then he was forced to read a statement that said:
"We, the new Longfield-Bance Corporation, were born from the joint struggle to free women who are victims of evil. We have put our own lives and the lives of the people we love at risk to protect the innocent. We will not allow our legacy to be tarnished by a coward's need to make easy money through fabricated scandals. We know how to forgive, but we also know how to pursue justice, as we have already proven."
I knew right away that something had changed. I don't know much about love, but Carol taught me the hard way how the world moves with money and power, and it was crystal clear to me: the second people find out Lucius is aiming for the presidency, the media will sell themselves to the highest bidder and say whatever garbage they want. This move, and that statement to the journalist, was a clear warning to everyone.
A message from Killian made me fall asleep with a smile on my face.
He wrote: "Hey baby, remember when I used to jump onto your balcony? I did it again today, hoping I'd find you there… By the way, your dresses and everything else will arrive tomorrow. You'll also find a gift for you inside the box. My mother made it while she was still alive. You can love it or throw it away if it doesn't suit you."
After breakfast, Irina arrived. I opened the gate for her, and she drove in with a military-style truck painted bright orange and covered in decals. She was a woman around fifty-five, strongly built, blonde, with dark eyes and a crooked smile. She spoke like a military lieutenant. In fact, the first thing she said was:
"I'm Irina Castel. I'm here to train you, Miss Carmilla. We leave in fifteen minutes. Find comfortable, breathable clothes because we'll be using a special driving suit. Leave the rest to me."
I asked her, "Have you been a driving instructor for long?"
She stared at me like I was an alien and said, "You really don't know who I am, do you? I'm 'The Castel.' Paris-Dakar winner, professional racer since I was a little girl. I also train drivers for military assault vehicles, served in war, and was decorated for bravery in combat. Recently, I made headlines for stopping three armed attackers using only my fists and feet. I hold instructor ranks in four martial arts disciplines. There's a movie and a series about me. Both called 'The Castel.' You seriously don't know who I am?"
I apologized, showed her my library, and told her I loved romance novels. She smiled, but I felt it wasn't enough, so I mentioned I wanted to learn how to drive the car they'd given me and opened the garage door.
She cried. She dropped to her knees and hugged the car. She asked permission to open it and look at the engine, then stayed silent for about five minutes… like she was trying to process that the vehicle was really there in front of her.
I saw an opportunity and told her, "Irina… if you can teach me to drive this without wrecking it or killing anyone, I promise I'll let you take it out for a spin…"
It was like lightning hit her. "What the hell are we waiting for?!"
We cut through the crowd of journalists and curious onlookers in her truck, and forty minutes later we arrived at a racetrack where there were only mechanics and six prepared cars. She told me:
"First, warm up. I want you to lift your right knee fifty times in a row, like you're trying to knee someone."
She showed me the exercise and I repeated it until I was exhausted. Then she made me do the same, but throwing a punch forward and upward first, followed by the knee strike.
I only spent twenty minutes in a regular street sports car with automatic transmission, weaving between orange cones at low speed. Then she said that was "for babies" and moved me to a manual coupe, warning me:
"This is an older vehicle, the closest I have to your Mercedes. It's not as fast, but it'll give you plenty of trouble if you don't listen to my instructions."
After three hours, the racing suit and helmet were melting me alive. All I had learned was how to accelerate down a straightaway up to fifth gear and how to reverse while turning my head without using the mirrors.
I thought it had been a complete disaster, but Irina congratulated me and told me to come back tomorrow…
Okay, I stayed there waiting for her to take me home, but she said:
"No, no. You're driving back yourself. You'll take this car. It's a 1970 Corvette. Go slow. I'll see you here at the same time tomorrow."
Yes, girl, just like I'm telling you. She set the GPS with the quietest streets all the way to Mary Garden and ordered me to leave. I drove so slowly that a cyclist passed me on the left. Everyone stared at the car, but I made it. When I finally got home… I cried with joy like a teenager. I felt free and powerful.
I took a shower, and once my body cooled down, I realized everything hurt like I'd been in a boxing match.
I put on a white blouse and comfortable pants, thinking I'd collapse into bed, but they told me a huge wooden crate had arrived for me from the Longfield mansion. They set it down near my door and gave me the key to the padlock.
I opened it with so much excitement, not only because I'd see my beautiful dresses again, but because Killian had mentioned there would be a gift inside that his mother had made while she was still alive. The hangers with the dresses were at the front. I slid them aside to look in the back and there… I saw it.
Killian was inside the box, sitting on the wooden floor, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses… with that bright smile of his.
I said very calmly, "Give me what you have in your hands…"
He handed them over and I set the bottle and glasses on the grass. Then… I ran to that box and threw myself into his arms. God! How much I had missed him.
I kissed him a thousand times and told him the truth—his visit was the best gift he could have given me…
He replied, "Hey, baby, I love you, but let's get out of here. This box is way too small for me."
I took him by the hand straight to the bed. We left a trail of clothes behind us. I bit him, hugged him with all my strength, and dug my nails into his back when he entered me. I didn't just want to make love to him. I wanted to keep him forever. I wanted him to never forget me for even a second. I cried from love while he moved inside me. He kissed every inch of my body, like he needed to confirm I was real. I came on top of him, watching his muscles flex as he lifted and lowered my weight, setting the rhythm.
I cried again… I don't know if it was from love, relief, or everything all at once… while he held me, while he told me without words that he was there, that he wasn't letting me go…
When I reached my climax, I looked at him… I needed to see him… I needed to know he was real, that he wasn't going to disappear again.
Afterward, exhausted, I stayed on top of him, breathing slowly, while his hands roamed my body with care, almost tenderly… like he was suddenly afraid of breaking me.
"I have to confess something, girl," I told him while he massaged me to ease the pain from my driving lesson. I told him what had happened with Evangelina, that we had kissed in bed and almost gone all the way. To my surprise, he didn't seem jealous at all. He said:
"At some point you'll have to understand that you're the ultimate beauty in this world, not her. If it were up to me, I'd live inside you, watching you tremble and tell me you love me right before you come. Of course Evangelina wants to sleep with you."
I opened up to him and told him something that had been on my mind:
"Look, if you had been there with me, two things would've definitely happened. First, she and I would've had sex, because I know it would turn me on so much if you were watching. Or the other way around. I loved that time when we were playing and she was watching me. Am I crazy? Is something wrong with me?"
He got serious and said:
"Of course you're crazy. The three of us aren't fitting in this bed. I'll send you a bigger one. Wait, no, no. You can buy it yourself. That perfume you made is breaking sales records worldwide. Did you check your income account? Come on, baby, do it. I guarantee at this point you must already have a couple million in there."