Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Rafael drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the open window. The address he had scheduled with the realtor was saved in the GPS: a new building, a single tower of glass and steel, named “Residencial Horizonte.” Duplex penthouse, 180 square meters, 360-degree view, private pool on the balcony.

Perfect.

He parked in the reserved spot in the underground garage; the realtor had already granted access. He took the private elevator straight to the top floor. As soon as he stepped out, she was already there, waiting in the apartment’s entrance hall.

Camila, 32 years old, tall blonde, gym-sculpted body, tight dress and blood-red high heels that left no doubt about her intentions. The smile was professional, but her eyes said something else.

“Mr. Valença,” she said, extending her hand with perfectly polished red nails. “How punctual. I love men who keep their schedule.”

Rafael shook her hand without smiling back.

“Let’s see the apartment.”

She wasn’t shaken by his coldness. On the contrary, the challenge seemed to excite her. Her hips swayed deliberately as she walked ahead of him.

“Of course. This way.”

The duplex was exactly what he had asked for: master suite with a whirlpool tub, double shower, and private balcony with an infinity pool, built-in jacuzzi, and gourmet area with barbecue grill.

Camila stopped in each room, gesturing with exaggerated elegance, leaning a little more than necessary to point out details.

“Here in the living room, the modular sofa is retractable and can turn into a king-size bed… in case you need extra space for… guests,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder, lips curved in a mischievous smile.

Rafael didn’t respond. He walked to the window, evaluating the view. The building was five minutes from the holding’s headquarters. Perfect for Maitê to come and go without wasting time.

Camila approached from behind, her sweet, expensive perfume invading his space.

“The pool is heated,” she continued, lowering her voice. “At night, with the city lights down below… it gets romantic. Very romantic.” She lightly touched his arm, her fingers lingering a second too long. “I imagine you enjoy… making use of these spaces with someone special.”

Rafael slowly turned his face toward her, removing his sunglasses. His green eyes met hers without blinking.

“I’m buying it for a woman,” he said directly. “Not for me.”

Camila blinked, surprised, but quickly recovered her smile.

“I see,” she said, subtly positioning her neckline within his line of sight. “Then she’s going to love it. The master bedroom has mirrors on the ceiling… and on the wall opposite the bed. Some clients say that… enhances the experience.”

She lightly bit her lower lip, her gaze sliding down his chest before returning to his face.

“If you’d like, I can show you how it looks at night. With the lights dimmed. Just the two of us… testing the space.”

Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Do you always offer a ‘test drive’ to clients?”

Camila laughed softly, unashamed.

“Only to the ones worth it. And you, Rafael Valença… are very worth it.”

He stepped slightly away from her.

“The apartment is perfect. I’ll close the deal today. Send the paperwork to my lawyer. I want the keys delivered tomorrow before noon.”

Camila nodded, a smile still on her lips despite the disguised frustration.

“Of course. I’ll prepare everything.” She took the tablet from her purse and began typing. “Can I send the contract link by email?”

“Yes. And Camila…” He waited until she looked up. “No ‘test drive.’ Not now, not later. The woman who’s going to live here is mine. Exclusively mine. I don’t need anyone else.”

The message was clear. Camila swallowed hard, the professional smile returning to her pretty face.

“Understood, Mr. Valença. Message received.”

Rafael put his sunglasses back on and walked toward the door.

“Send the keys to the address my assistant will provide. And congratulations on the sale.”

He left without looking back. She remained standing in the middle of the spacious living room, staring at the closed door. She sighed, shaking her head.

“What a shame…” she murmured to herself.

Meanwhile, Rafael went down in the private elevator, typing a quick message to Maitê:

“Address of the new apartment. Bring only the essentials. I’ll take care of the rest.”

He sent it.

Everything ready to have her exactly the way he wanted.

Inside the Mercedes, he started the car. He set the air conditioning to maximum, but even that couldn’t lower the heat rising inside him.

During the week, Maitê would be only his. Exclusively his. No long shifts, no idiot neighbors knocking on the door, no cramped studio apartment. Just her, in the new place, waiting for him whenever he wanted. Whenever he needed.

Rafael Valença was used to women who approached him out of interest: status, money, and power. They all knew who he was before even getting close. But Maitê didn’t. She had looked at him as if he were just another handsome man at the counter. And when their eyes met, she smiled.

He felt himself harden just from that look. And that never happened. Never.

Since then, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way she moaned softly when he thrust deep. The scent of her skin. The way she bit her lower lip when she was nervous.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly. He was already half-hard just remembering. He imagined her in the penthouse pool: her naked body with water running down her breasts, over her hips, between her thighs. He imagined her on all fours on the king-size bed, the mirrors reflecting every angle as he took her from behind, watching her face twist in pleasure in the reflection.

A low groan escaped his throat. He took a deep breath, forcing his mind back under control.

“Easy,” he thought. “You have a whole year. You don’t need to devour everything at once.”

But the truth was that he wanted to. He wanted to devour her. He wanted to mark her in ways no other man ever would. He wanted her so used to his touch that, when the contract ended, she wouldn’t be able to imagine another hand on her skin.

The phone vibrated on the console. It was a message from her.

“I got the address. Thank you for the apartment… I still can’t believe it.”

He smiled sideways, typing quickly when he stopped at a red light.

“You’ll believe it when you walk in. And when I walk into you in there.”

Sent.

Monday.

11 a.m. at the office to sign the contract and 2 p.m. at the apartment to hand over the keys.

And after that… he would show her exactly what it meant to be his.