Chapter 3: New For A Moment

6:45am, next day

 Mario shielded his eye from the lights seeping in through the blinds. His alarm clock rang at the same time, and he yawned shamelessly. 

"Wake up, queen, it's morning." He grumbled sleepily. "I've not woken up feeling this good in years, you know."  

He waited for for answer before slowly turning around. "Belle?"

Without touching his side, he knew she was already gone.  

"Fuck me." He cussed, above his breath. If only he had not fallen asleep immediately after, he would have at least got her number. 

For a second, he wondered why he had done the opposite of what he should have done. 

And it was only after he woke up that morning, that he realized- she had completely given him her innocence. 

"She must have hated the domination." He found himself second-guessing. Did she let him only because he said it was a comfort? Had she felt tricked by him?

He rubbed her spot on his bed, and smelt it. Her rose-scent cologne still hung on to it like a second skin. It was heavy in the air, but he knew it was only a matter of time that it'd disappear, like she did. 

"Belle...Belle." He repeated, dreamily. 

As Mario stretched his limbs, he started to wonder about every thing that might have gone wrong last night. 

He had lied to her about his non-existent  job, his age inclusive

Now he hadn't even told her how old he was, yet it felt like he lied about it, because he was meaning to, in case she did ask. 

"Est-elle fâchée contre moi?"   Mario found himself wondering, as he brushed in his bathroom much later. 

He wondered if she was fine too. "Did I hurt her? Is she regretting this?" He had a brief memory of last night, how incredibly passionate the moment had been, and a smirk played on his lips. 

She wasn't just cool; she was downright his best since the history of one-nights. 

 He decided to pay her a visit at the bar, but secretly. 

So, it was definitely a bad idea to drive.

"Now, Shall we?" Mario chuckled, warming himself up before the mirror, an hour later.

 He had on a pair of joggers and his favorite red sneakers. He was going to use the excuse of a jog to spy on her. 

Just as he stepped out, excited for the day, he strangely realized that life was beautiful. 

"Hey, good morning. Slept good?" He said to one of his neighbours as he jogged past her. The woman looked at him as though he were a ghost. 

Even he knew that he was a different man.

His satisfaction was soon interrupted by a buzz on his phone, as he rounded the bend that led to the lone bar, where Belle worked. 

"Hello?" He stopped to catch his breath. 

"Mario..." Once he heard the voice on the other end, his smile vanished. He should have checked the caller first. 

There was a pang of hurt in her tone, but he ignored it. 

"Listen, Annette. I have work to do right now. You should give up phoning me." He said blatantly, and made to hang up, but the next statement he heard caught him unawares. 

"I am not calling because of the engagement. I..I've got bad news, Mario, Très mauvaise nouvelle." 

Mario scoffed. "What is it?"  

Ever since his parents introduced Annette to him, saying she was the one for him, his life had taken a turn for the worse. 

She was bad news. Something about her unnerved him. 

He wondered why they couldn't see it. They had only dated for six months, and he was never happy in all those months. 

He had had to escape that life, and resorted to alcohol, and now he was a chronic alcoholic. She had been his reason for drinking, and his reason for not knowing how to stop. 

"I don't know how to tell you...I..." She swallowed, her voice fading into the background.  Fear gripped him briefly, but then he braced himself for the worst. 

"Just say it. What happened?" 

She sniffed, and started to stutter. "I'm sorry...I..."

Annette was not the vulnerable type. She was the man in their short relationship; solid and firm in her decisions. She never for once broke down in public. 

Even when he had told her she was not marriage material in the presence of her parents, she had waited until she was alone, before letting out the tears. 

After their parents' attempt to reconcile them, they had spent the night together in her parents' hotel, making unholy, passionate love, that Mario thought would change how he viewed things, but unfortunately, it didn't. 

He had only hated her afterwards. 

"Get yourself together. I will call you back." He said, bringing himself back to reality. 

But He was not going to call her back. 

Maybe this was her new method of getting him back in her miserable life, and he would not be blind to it. 

Mario stopped, when he reached the bar. He was sweating, and needed something chilled at least. 

Walking into the bar, his eyes roamed around every table for her.  But, she was nowhere in sight. 

He didn't want to rouse some attention or he'd have asked the bartender her whereabouts straightaway. 

Mario considered stopping at her house- the one she had refused to go into, last night, but he wasn't sure if it was a very good idea. It seemed too forward. 

Despite they sharing something raw and passionate, they were just two strangers who met briefly. 

"Hey, the big guy from yesterday, yeah?" Mario heard someone say to him, as he raised his head. There was a brunette before him, pulling out a seat, and wearing a rather sly smile. He was sure she meant to be coy and adorable, unfortunately. 

 If only she looked at a mirror before leaving her house that morning. 

"Can I sit with you?" She said again, and Mario just stared blankly at her. She had on a little pink dress, that hugged her voluptuous bottom firmly. The shape V on her neck, exposing her cleavage was clear as crystal. 

What's with girls in the bar looking like retired strippers? 

"I'm Bianca. I saw that scene of yesterday...you handled it quite well really." She giggled, rather slyly, enjoying whatever fun she was having, but Mario's head was travelling back to the issue that brought him here.

 "What's your name?" 

He downed the rest of his coffee, and burped loudly, on purpose. 

"Woah, that was a sexy burp from you...I didn't think someone would sound so good burping." She laughed heartily, and blew him kisses. It was starting to weird him out, but he sat there, wondering what kind of reaction he should wield out on this intruder. 

"Tu ne comprends pas l'anglais, est-ce que vous?" She tried again, in French, but he simply shook his head. 

"Well.. if you do understand English, I am sorry about the harassment from that girl yesterday, once again..." 

Mario cut in immediately.  It was high time he retorted, "Why are you sorry?" 

She smiled, looking so pleased that he spoke back. "I mean...no one should treat a god like that. Ever. Pardon the silly Belle." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, when Mario gave her a deathful glare. 

"Don't you dare call her names!" He whispered, but firmly, stamping his hands on the table. 

"Woah, I was only trying to make you feel better, okay?" She yelled back, but soon cautioned herself. "I learnt she was fired this morning. That makes this place safe for you to visit." She added. 

"What? Are you the owner or something? What do you mean she was fired?" Mario was taken aback by this news. If Belle was indeed fired, then he'd never have to visit this bar. Her home would be the only point of contact for him.

But for what reason would she be paid off? She literally just got the job.

He got up swiftly, and lazied out of the bar. The lady followed after him, grinning from ear to ear for no rational reason. 

Mario stopped to lean on the rail outside the bar where he had first spoken to Belle, hoping he would feel some sort of connection again, or make it stay. 

He had no idea Bianca was right behind him. 

"If you don't mind," she muttered, seductively, causing him to flinch briefly , "I can help you release, being the pro that I am. You just seem very tense." 

He was going to answer her rudely, when his phone beeped in his pockets.

"Hello?" He answered, agitatedly.

"You need to come home, Mario. There's some really bad news." Her voice was apprehensive. 

"That I don't deserve to know about?" He fired fiercely at his mother's eldest handmaid, Caroline.

 He knew what it was, or at least what it could likely be, but he was not ready to accept it. 

"Is it about Aurelia, I mean Maman? Is she well?" He found himself quietly asking, a second later, because for some reason, he had the fear of losing his mother. 

There was a brief silence and deep breath before her response came. 

"Come home, fils prodigue." She said, whispering the French part under her breath. Then, she hung up without waiting for his answer. 

But he had heard her.

Prodigal son? How dare she?

Mario was done. His day had already been ruined. Just when he thought Belle was going to be a lasting distraction. 

He tilted the lady's body away carefully , and took off. This had been Annette's bad news, and whatever had happened was most likely the thing on his mind.