Estela Bremmer brought the glass of sparkling wine to her lips as she studied the shocked guy across the table with an enraged gaze, planning the next delicate spike she intended to launch at him. What had gotten into her tonight—that she felt the need to puncture his façade with such vigor—was beyond her comprehension. However, she had been giving in to the temptation all night, and it had grown more robust with each glass of wine she had consumed.
Perhaps it was because this day was the death anniversary of her husband, and Michael Jensen was the polar opposite of Peter. She felt oppressed by resentment over fate's decision to deprive the world and herself of the gentleness and pleasantness of such a pious man. Fate allowed this one, a tainted sensualist, to live and sit opposite her, emphatically vibrating with a practically disgusting reputation.
It was borderline farcical. Estela needed to get used to thinking more clearly. What did Michael Jensen bring to the table for anybody outside his profane stories of provocative adventurism, which, assuming all records were true, were put together to a limited extent for his way of life? His novels, on the other hand, sold in significant quantities. At the same time, Peter's poetry was hardly circulated and generated so little income that, without her income, they would have been financially doomed.
With gloomy discontent, she accepted that this was always the case. The outstanding ones passed away at a young age, whereas the bad ones passed away at an old age. She saw Michael Jensen’s sly smirk as he lowered his handsome head to listen to the chirping of his distributor's enraptured wife. Estela finished her thought with a mental shrug.
She waited until the chatter at the table had died down for a moment before making a noise meant to be heard. Michael Jensen peered into it, his attractively formed mouth fixating on a small section. His bright, dazzling eyes zeroed in on Estela with an impenetrable glare of courteous attention that teetered on the brink of indicating a discourteous lack of participation.
Estela responded, "Tell me, Mr. Jensen." Her innocent grin tugged at her large lips as her sensible emerald eyes widened in question. "Did you mean for your protagonist in Fierce Captain to be as juvenile in his associations with ladies as he ran over?" She made an immobilizing gesture with her shoulders. "All in all, assuming it was purposeful, I guess I can figure out your inspiration." Estela gave him a swift, knowing look from behind her thick lashes. "All things considered, he was a flippant jerk from every other perspective, too, right?"
Estela felt accomplished since she hadn't failed to notice Michael's minor jaw strain, which was the primary symptom of his annoyance. The fact that Michael Jensen had taken her question in a spirit of agreement was utterly irrelevant to her.
His unflappable sense of humor was broadcast through an alluring gleam of white teeth. "In any case, obviously, Miss... uh." He seemed confused and unable to recall Estela's name, but she was confident he did. He appeared like the type of man who would carefully categorize an obvious enemy down to the last detail to protect himself.
Assuming this was all he could do in retaliation for her taunting, Estela stifled a chuckle at his approach, thinking he had a long way to go to resolve the matter with a commendable enemy. He breezed through the checkpoint, managing to convey the impression that Estela wasn't important enough for him to remember her name but that he would forever be the perfect respectable guy and respond politely to her stupid questions. He droned, "That is the appeal of my legends, you see," allowing other members of the party the opportunity to seem naughtily spiffy. "I have a lot of female readers who will not be thrilled with a grave sort of character who enjoyed perusing a poem to his sweetheart and committed to her eternally. That sounds like it might be rather dull, doesn't it?
He wasn't trying to get Estela's opinion, yet his remarks affected her. Estela realized that her husband, Peter, had been the "sullen" type of person that Michael Jensen had depicted, right down to reading poetry to her (his poetry). The man across from her would never be able to commit to another person with the same level of sincerity that Peter had committed to her.
Estela hung on until the others' pretty tense laughter subsided. Many of them knew Peter and had witnessed the relationship that Estela and Peter shared; consequently, it was only natural that they felt some shame for Estela, guilt, and compassion, but not enough to risk upsetting the wealthy creator.
Then she gave him a bright grin before shaking her head slightly. "Maybe you're correct." She made it seem like she agreed with him. The things that women enjoy in their fantasies are often very different from what they would be willing to accept in real life. As a result, your books will continue to be... well, financially rewarding.
The slight emphasis was almost imperceptible, but Estela felt confident that Michael Halsey had understood. She finally landed the killing blow. However, someone like Neils Andersen from Fierce Captain would be doomed to be a lone wolf in real life. When a woman needs a real guy, she's looking for more than someone who can "swash and clasp" in and out of bed.
After her statements, the room became silent for a moment since everyone present was aware of Michael Jensen’s very precarious position, which served as a model for the male protagonists in his writings.
The flash of wild danger in Michael's bright eyes did not affect Estela; she immediately set out to lighten the mood. Given that she was here as Lars Pederson's guest as the owner of Pederson’s Distributions, she knew the welcome was out of genuine concern for her tendency to be withdrawn after Peter's death.
This was most definitely not a formal business greeting. Before Estela could say she had "any genuine significance on the staff" at the newspaper, there was still a long way to go. Since Lars Pederson was a close friend of Estela’s, she came at tonight's distraction to celebrate the release of Michael Jensen's new book. Estela's only regret is that her words put Lars in an awkward position.
She then offered an unplanned remark to Michael while raising her wine glass and smiling brilliantly, albeit perhaps not really. "Every other person has toasted you this evening, Mr. Jensen, and I might also like to. "Cheers to the brains behind Pederson Distribution's breakout hit!" she cheerily toasted. "May your current book sell one million copies, and may your merited achievement go on into what's to come."
In the middle of the general unwinding that followed Estela's comments and the cheers! Michael smiled endearingly and attentively nodded his dim, reddish head. Estela had to give Michael his due respect because she could see he was going to try to reach over the table and choke her. His little aggressiveness didn't make her feel bad about making fun of him. She considered him a wrecked, self-important, libertine, academic lightweight, and she believed he earned something like one thistle amid the red awards that dependably came his way.
She relaxed back into her chair, having become weary of the incessant chatter around her, the insignificance of her surroundings, and her hypersensitivity. She had consumed several glasses of wine during the evening, and as a result, her head was beginning to ache, and her limbs felt somewhat numb. She wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl under the covers of her lonely bed, but she had ridden to the restaurant with Lars and his spouse, Anne, and was thus stuck there until they were ready to leave.
She was looking disdainfully around the table at the women as they stared entranced at Michael Jensen when she happened to catch Henrick Larsen’s eye. Henrick was strange in that he was Michael's manager; even though he and Estela were longtime friends, it was clear that he was bummed out with her at the moment.
She smiled wickedly, winked lazily, and almost laughed at his frown, even though she couldn't say she blamed him. Tomorrow morning, she would have to reconcile with him, but right now, she just didn't have the energy. When Lars suddenly came to her elbow and asked her to dance, Estela let out a muffled sigh since she knew she wouldn't have time to calm down around him.Estela, expecting the reprimand she knew was coming, rose up to accept his offer, then felt a little worried at the knowledge that she was on the verge of intoxication. Even though she rarely drank and probably knew her limit, the fact was nonetheless mildly bothersome. She had no idea why she had become so drunk so quickly this evening, but she suspected it had something to do with being bored to tears by the endless praise for Michael.Estela paid Lars's expected reprimand for her misbehavior scarcely any attention. She felt lightheaded and disoriented, and it was everything she could do to keep up with his simple dan
Michael grabbed her arm in a painful grasp and steered her in the direction of her flat despite her protests. I don't care what you're feeling," was his equally icy response. "I want you to sober up; this is as good a way as any."Instead of responding angrily, Estela bit her tongue and let him drag her down the street. In fact, she didn't have much of a say in the issue, as breaking his grasp would have required someone far stronger than she was. Estela failed to consider it challenging to go home without his help. Her mind was clearing slightly in the night air, but the rest of her body was still in the grasp of the booze she'd consumed, and her legs were a very wobbly support for the time.The journey was completed in eerie stillness, and by the time they arrived at Estela's building, she couldn't wait to get inside and escape Michael's presence. She attempted to free herself from his grip by pulling on her arm once again. She said coldly, "This is my building, and I can make it on
Michael's persistent mouth assaulted her lips, stifling a gasp that sprang from her throat. To get away from him, Estel put her hands on his shoulders, but he took this as an opening to run his palms down her sides, across her thighs, and finally to her buttocks. He hoisted her into the grinding rhythm of his hips, his fingers curving over the rounded bumps of skin.In response to Michael's assault, Estel experienced a disturbing, purely bodily sensual reaction that got entangled with the nausea and headache she was feeling. She was unable to process the whirlwind of sensations bombarding her. For long stretches, she just floated along with Michael's passionate kisses and the shaping of her body against his.When Michael finally backed off, she was vaguely startled to realize that he had been breathing harshly and that his body had tightened as he tried to excite her. It appeared that he was becoming engrossed in his own game, which only heightened the already high-risk profile of the
When he bent down even more and put his tongue on her pink nipples, Estel tensed. The seductive sensations of his sucking gave her outrage, even as the warmth it produced in her thighs and belly made any lingering sickness go away as if it had never been there. When Michael first started caressing her, she resisted the alcohol-induced weakness in her limbs as fiercely as she battled his seduction. "Damn you, Michael," she said under her breath as she struggled to free herself. I don't want you. I can't stand you! You self-centered jerk, how can you not see that? Michael's eyes blazed with desire as he dominated her, and his clenched teeth formed a ferocious grin. To which he said, "You may not like me, Estel, I'll give you that," ground out with a cruel chuckle. "but I can prove that you want me." Michael grasped one of Estel's arms in an iron grip and threw the other beneath his body to immobilize it. Then he placed one of his legs between her thighs so that she couldn't move anyth
Peter's lovemaking had been beautiful, delicate, and entirely acceptable to her in her limited experience. Still, it couldn't compare with the overwhelming force of Michael's.While lying exhausted in Michael's arms, her skin sticky with perspiration and her pulse hammering from the intensity of her exertion, Estel recognized that Michael's performance could not be described as loving. Michael had treated her like she was nothing more than a means to his own ends, and he had gotten much more pleasure out of humiliating her than from making her happy.He propped himself up on his elbows and grinned lazily down at her. Still, when he saw the cold venom in Estel's eyes, his grin twisted into sarcastic disdain."Get up!" Estel spat the words out, expressing her desire to use physical force for the first time in her life. "Get up and get out before I-" She couldn't finish her sentence, since she didn't want to talk to him anymore.Michael deliberated on it for a while. He looked at her for
Estel called in sick the following day. Not only did she have a terrible hangover, but her mental and emotional despair was on par with what she'd felt following Peter's death. Then, at least, Estel might have attributed her misfortune to a random chance. This was the first time she'd ever been so severely let down by something she'd done, and she was entirely unprepared for it. Her face was strained and pale as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, and she thought wryly and bitterly that thirty was much too young to accept that she was just as flawed as everyone else. Until last night, she had been the epitome of the good girl archetype in every aspect of her life. What in the name of God had happened to her suddenly? Her countenance hardened as she recalled what had happened to her in Michael's hands. She went from being a catty bitch—not her style—to questioning her long-held conviction that she was a person possessing all the finer qualities that went hand in hand with a
His thick brown locks fell across his forehead as he shook his head, giving him an intriguingly helpless appearance. Before continuing, he said, "Sorry to get off the subject," apologizing to the interviewer, Mark. I have no plans to apologize for the quality of my work. It can stand on its own merits. People either appreciate it for what it is and pay for it, or they don't. Since it sells, many others believe it satisfies a need for amusement. Estel looked surprised by this. It was a statement of fact, but the simplicity of its reality rattled her. When she turned on the TV, the last thing she had anticipated was that Michael Jensen would make her feel better about herself. She hadn't bargained for an introduction to a worldview she'd never thought about before. But again, she had never been broken enough by her own failings to require pity. She had always met her own or anybody else's high standards. As her worldview shifted, she became temporarily bewildered and missed a few seco
“Good morning, Henrick,” she murmured. When Henrick saw Estel, he said, “Morning, Estel.” His keen eyes took in the pallor of her face and the way she nervously twisted a pencil in her fingers. Typical of him, he asked me straight out, “Are you recovered, or have you brought your germs into the office to infect the rest of us?” Estel relaxed a little, a slight grin appearing to brighten her features. It was the other way around, she remarked wryly. “Someone else brought the germs in, and I gathered them up and took them home with me.” Henrick gave a casual shrug. “Part of the job,” he remarked in a callous tone. “At any rate, it saved you from getting your tail chewed royally yesterday. I was in the mood to eat nails.” Estel's eyebrows went up in curiosity as she waited for Henrick to mention Michael. Though she could have followed Henrick there, she was no longer capable of doing so. The sarcastic tone in Henrick's voice was clear as he warned Estel, “Don't look so innocent.” And you