VERONICA 'S P. O. V.
I was sitting in front of my vanity. It was a mess.
The makeup and skin care I used was scattered. I forgot to close the lid of my concealer, but why would I worry? All these beautifications are made for him.
I need to be perfect for this night. Because tonight, I will meet his only son, officially and formally.
I stood up and took a quick glance at my whole body. From head to toe, I prepared. I'm wearing rose-gold over the knee gladiator heels. Wearing the Versace silk dress in the color champagne paired with a pink Birkin bag from Hermès. All of these coming from him. My boyfriend, Joaquin Gutierrez.
I spun around one last time and smiled with so much joy. I never knew someone would take someone like me seriously. Like I have nothing. And Don Joaquin have the world in his hands.
Using my right finger, I took the highlighter palette and applied it to my collar bone and to my cleavage, accentuating my selling points. The more shiny it goes, the more glowing the night will be. I need to calm myself. I'm not nervous but I'm restless.
What if Joaquin's son doesn't like me?
What if Joaquin and I don't stay together until the end?
Joaquin's son might think that I made his father my sugar daddy. Because of our age gap.
Well, to start off, Don Joaquin is twenty years older than me. Basically, Don Joaquin is forty-three years old. While I, on the other hand, is twenty-three.
I will go ahead of you. Yes. Age doesn't matter.
My heart was pounding. And every beat of it calls out the name "Joaquin,"
Even though there is a gap in our ages, I don't see it as an obstacle to love him. Well, his looks are a bonus—I mean, let's not kid ourselves.
At the age of forty-three, you can't detect the signs of aging in him. Literally, his features were frozen to how he was before. Don Joaquin still carries charisma, his oozing sex appeal, and most of all, Don Joaquin is suavemente.
He's like a vampire. His beauty is unmatched. And his body can still take me to the seventh glory.
Don Joaquin is kind. It is his nature to be helpful. He has a charity he funds for street children. He is a prominent business tycoon at the age of twenty. He dropped out of school due to poverty, but look at him now, most people look up to him.
One thing that I like about a man is hard working. Sometimes figurative but most of all, literal.
And Don Joaquin is hardworking in bed too.
I sat on my barbie pink bed. Yes, I love pink—all the shades of 'em, but not the neon one. It hurts my eyes too much. Don Joaquin is so generous, he spoils me a lot. I love the fact that he loves me but as much as possible I want to avoid people's gossip. So there are times, I refuse to receive his gifts for me.
Even though their tales are not close to the truth, I still don't want their mouth blabbering about me. I am Veronica Walter. A former supermodel. And I am independent.
Before I met Don Joaquin, I already had the things I wanted and needed.
Am I rich? Of course, not! I am contented and that's what makes me rich.
In life, even if you have all the diamonds and fortune in the world, and if you can't find contentment, you'll see yourself being lonely and displeased.
When the clock ticks exactly seven in the evening, I heard a knock on the door. I stood up and adjusted my clothes. I carry my pink Birkin bag. To have a quick bag raid, the inside of my pink Birkin is my pink stun gun—just in case I'm in trouble, a mirror, lipstick, my favorite perfume, and of course, alcohol.
When I opened the door, my smile reached my ears. "Don Joaquin," I bit my lower lip. I pulled out my imaginary bangs even though I was wearing a half-up space bun. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me closer to him.
"Damn. You looked so fine, darling," he pressed our forehead together. I closed my eyes when his chapped lips touched my pointed nose. I could smell the mixture of nicotine and mint scented mouthwash from his breath.
"Thank you, Don Joaquin," I fluttered my eyes open and whispered to him.
Using my lips, I wet his dry lips. His kiss slowly moved down to my neck. I opened my eyes and laughed softly. "Don Joaquin, we better not do it this time. We'll have to meet your son for dinner, right?" his hand traveled on my body until he found my ass. He kneads it like a dough. I gasped.
I was tickled by his beard hitting my neck as he kissed me. "D-Don Joaquin," I said.
I'm just human too, led to temptation. I can't help but enjoy what he does. I bit my lip and clung tightly to both of his shoulders before I pushed him away.
I catch my breath. Our vision met. His chartreuse-green eyes are glowing, flickering with lust. His smile is wide. I look away from him so that I won't be more tempted. I lose my mind every time our eyes meet.
Jesus!
What he did left a red mark on my neck. "Can't help it. I want to eat you up like a cannibal. I'll savor every ounce of you, Veronica," he said in a hoarse voice.
I fixed my dress in the back which had a little crease caused by the travel of Don Joaquin's mischievous hand.
"I didn't know you wanted to eat me whole, Don Joaquin," he laughed. "Anyway, I need to cover the redness you placed on me," I pointed to the part of my neck that he made hickeys.
"Why do you need to cover? Is it bad to mark what I already own? You won't hear a single complain from me if you put hickeys on my neck. Hell, I'll even flag it to my fellow businessmen," he responded confidently and put his hand in his slocks pocket. My face turned red from embarrassment.