THE OTHER WOMAN
2231 Words
How can another woman same as her be present there? It was unusual that she found herself following the sound where it was coming from. The laugh lead her be to a garden where the roses blooms as it bathed towards the golden array of the sun.
When she woke up the next day, Italia was alone. The sun was already shining brightly, and the empty space beside her was cold. The traje de boda was nowhere to be seen, and everything seems to be already neatly arrange as if yesterday were nothing, but all dreams of l**t, and repine longing that Gustavio could still be soften by her.
She sighs.
The double doors of her room opened.
“Miss.” It was Tristan, her personal butler. “Mr. Salvador ask me to send you at the dining table.”
“Tell him that I wasn’t in the mood—”
“It was an order, Miss.”
Her fist curled up, and clenched.
“An order, huh?”
Italia doesn’t like the sound of it, but what can she do? Whose fault was it to be here kissing Gustavio Enriquez Salvador’s a*s? Probably hers.
“I’m coming.” Italia pulled her robes to hide her bare shoulder in sight. “Wait for me outside—”
“I’m sorry, Miss.” Tristan sounded apologetic this time. “But Mr. Salvador emphasize that I must not leave your side and quickly fetch you in a minute. He does not like waiting, Miss Italia.”
“That prick!” Italia’s teeth gritted.
Left with no choice, she found herself marching all the way behind his tail. She was frowning. Her forehead cease depicting how annoyed she is. Nobody dare get on her way. The maid greeted her, but Italia did not utter a single word not until they finally reach the marvellous staircase.
Tristan stopped, when another butler same as him walked closer.
“Tristan.” It was a middle age man, who also acknowledged her presence.
“Sir, what may be the problem?” Tristan was quick-witted.
“Uhm...” Unsure, the man glance at her for a moment. “Can we speak for a moment?”
Tristan nodded before he faced Italia.
“I’m sorry, Miss, but it seems urgent, “ he said.
“That’s alright.” Italia waved her hand. “I can take care of myself here.”
With that said the two male discus things that she didn’t want to involve herself with.
Italia sighs.
“Well, I guess I’ll be on my own.”
It doesn’t bother her anyway. The entire mansion may seems enormous, but she’d been there for how long she could remember. She memorize all the rooms, and stairs except for that one—Gustavio’s room. He’d forbids her to lay a hand on his door, but it wasn’t fair! He could do whatever he wanted, and even more than what she was least expecting to. The memory of last night came back.
Italia quickly shake her head, flustered.
“Focus, Italia.” She castigated herself only to get stopped, when she heard giggles.
A woman laugh, which does seems odd.
The sky is clear that day, the clouds seems blue, but her eyesight—is it playing tricks on her again? Baffled upon the scenario unfolded. Gustavio was having a breakfast with a beautiful woman she had never seen on her life.
“Oh God, you’re so funny.” Her laughter were soft.
And it was no denial that she was an epitome of Venus.
Clad on a peach coloured dress, which proudly show off her bare shoulder, she move with grace as her long silky black hair bounce back freely behind her. She look so delicate, a tulip among a sea of roses. For a moment, Italia was stunned. She couldn’t move, but how can she explain the pang she felt that drive inward to her core?
Why...why does she felt hurt unknowingly, when she saw that Gustavio was staring tenderly at that woman?
Is it his own way of punishing her?
“Bastard.” Unaverred feelings, Italia cursed him.
Perhaps, Tristan was wrong, Gustav do not really need her to accompany him. Bitterness swept her on her feet. Italia turned her back. She was ready to leave, but all luck seems to be out of her sleeves this time, she stepped on a twig, which snapped and who knows exactly what happened next.
“Oh, I didn’t know we have a guest, Gustav.” It was the voice of the same woman she caught a glimpse with. “Miss Mercedes, I supposed?”
Frozen, she remain still.
Her chest set ablaze with fury and something far more than she hated the most. Envy. Jealousy.
“Italia.” Her name rolled out of Gustavio Enriquez Salavador’s lips.
Begrudge resentment dispersed. Her heart fluttered.
Italia cleared her throat before facing the pair.
“I didn’t know that you have a company here,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ll quickly leave the two of you—”
“But I didn’t tell you to leave, didn’t I?” His tone were much chillier than before.
“Oh god, stop being so stiff, Gustav.” The woman tenderly touched the male’s shoulder as if it was enough to comfort him.
Her eyes followed her hand—Italia’s face hardened.
“By the way—” Smiling, the woman glance back at her. “—my name is Samantha Montreal, CEO of Montreal Group of Companies, it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mercedes.”
‘Nice to meet you?’ Italia thought.
Samantha was smiling sweetly, her words are sugar-coated, but Italia knew woman like her.
She did not return her smile ‘stead of she looked back to Gustav, whose eyes seems to be warning her not to do anything.
‘Oh, watch me,’ Stubborn, she thought.
“I am not needed here.” Her face was stoic.
“Italia.”
Hard headed as she is, Italia continue.
“May you have a great morning, Mr. Salvador.”
With that said, Italia turned her back and leave.
‘Huh! Enjoy your lunch, my a*s!’
“Enjoy your lunch?” Disgusted, her nose scrunched. “My a*s!”
She was grumbling, and her stomach in synch does not seems to help lightened up her mood.
“As if I was really happy to wish you a great day! Tch.”
Why is she so bitter anyway?
“Oh, it doesn’t seems to be a good morning, does it?” Zamiel appeared on the kitchen.
“And you’re too early to be here.” Italia rolled her eyes at him. “God, another Salvador.”
“Why? As if you didn’t miss me, Italia.” The latter chuckled.
Zamiel Eric Salvador, Gustavio’s cousin was a total opposite of the older one. Both our handsome, but Zamiel is more carefree. He smile more often. He talks loud, and he is the only one who treated Italia far more different than Gustav.
“I didn’t miss you.” She made a face.
“Shesh, don’t be too harsh.” Zamiel placed a hand on his chest as if he were hurt.
“Whatever, Zam.” Italia rolled her eyes and chuckled.
She busied herself with her freshly brewed coffee, when the two person she wish she hadn’t seen showed up.
“Oh, hey Zamiel!” Samantha’s voice came ringing across the entire kitchen.
“I didn’t know you were here.” Zamiel frowns, before something dawn to him. “Oh, right....” He added and trailed off before giving Italia a look as if he knew something that she didn’t.
“f**k off.” Italia mouthed without a sound.
“Well, Gustav invited me here after our dinner last night.” Samantha chuckled.
Her laughter added to the fuel of fire. It made Italia’s blood to boil for no apparent reason, but she already gave her a root of hate.
“So, you were on a date last night, huh.” Zamiel grins. “Now, that made me wonder whether the two of you are a thing or not.”
“Well, that depends whether I agree on your cousin’s proposal, I supposed.” Samantha matched the Salvador’s cheekiness.
On the other hand, Italia couldn’t being herself be happy.
How can she smile knowing that her throat was slowly tightening, her chest beating so loudly as it pounce for what the woman mentioned.
A proposal. A f*****g proposal.
Lost, the mug on her hand slip.
Crash.
“O—oh!” She jerked off awake upon hearing the loud crashed on the floor, each fragments scattering, when all eyes dawn on her.
It was Zamiel, who first join Italia’s side.
“Are you okay?” Worried, he asked.
“Y—yeah.” Italia cleared her throat. “I—it had slipped from my grasp.”
“Was it too hot?” Zamiel frowns.
And all she was left to do was to nod her head as if she couldn’t bring herself to speak and tell him so.
“You should had been more careful.” Zamiel grabbed her by the wrist. “Let’s go, let me see if you have some scratches—”
“N—no, I’m fine—” Italia tried to free her hand, but he wouldn’t budge.
“That’s nonsense.”
Persistent, she was pulled by him, and not even once Italia had bathed a glance towards the pair.
“I hope she’s okay, don’t you think so, Gustav? Hmmm.” It was Samantha.
The ghastly noxious inflamed inside her chest—Italia closed her eyes, and wished, hoping to be that woman. What was it like to be up so close, and to see Gustavio’s smile even for a minute?
A memory slipped past, and flashed before her eyes.
“Oh god, what a jerk!” When Samantha arrived on her office that early morning, she was furious.
Her face was red, and her entire being depicts how mad she had become. In fear, nobody dare approach her, the staff avoided her like a plague, because they do not wanted to have her outburst be pour on them.
“Bad day?” Jerome grins.
“Don’t even start it.” She glared at him.
“Let me guess.” Her cousin chuckled with her temper. “I might guess that it have something to do with a Salvador?”
“Jerome!”
“Fine.” He only laughs in spite of her threats.
“If you are going to make fun of me then get out, asshole!” She was gritting her teeth.
“Woah, why are you even mad.”
“It was because of that b***h!” She couldn’t contain her anger.
“b***h?” Jerome’s furrow his eyebrows in confusion.
“Italia Mercedes.” She was gritting her teeth.
“For real?” Jerome sounded surprised. “That Mercedes? Gustavio Enriquez Salvador’s fiancé—”
“Ex-fiancé.” She put an emphasise on her words. “I didn’t know why she’s there! She isn’t supposed to be there! That damn butch ruining our moment!”
“This is a news!” Her cousin’s surprised turned into amusement. “Oh god, this would caught the media’s attention—”
“Don’t even try.” Her lips pursed. “Gustav warned me to not even tattle or else....tch.”
“I didn’t know that the great Samantha Montreal is being threatened, hmmm.”
“Hmmp, I just don’t want to be on his bad side, beside as you know that I am still courting him regarding the merge of our company.” Samantha crossed her arms above her chest. “We needed his power to rise up in the market.”
“That would technically lead to marriage.” Jerome hums.
“But I needed to erase Italia Mercedes in the picture first.” Her eyes darkened.
“Want me to play with her?” Jerome suggested.
“No.” Her lips protruded into an evil smile. “I am going to play with that damn bitch.”
**
“OMG! Editor-in-chief! Ms. Minchin!” A young journalist at the age of 23 rushed.
He was sweating. His clothes are already damp with sweat as he pant, but he seems not to care. All of his colleagues stared in confusion, but they didn’t have the chance to ask as he was already gone in a flashed towards Minchin Torres door.
“What it is, Ivan?” Minchin furrow her eyebrows.
She lifted her head to look at the latter.
Minchin Torres at the age of 25 is already the head chief of the Torres Company, which personalise itself towards TV stations that became infamously known across Europe, and all around Asia. She is a small woman, petite as the long-sleeves polo hug her physique. At first glance, she may look stiff and stern, but she was far more than the impression that may assumed she was.
“Y—you wouldn’t believe it!” Ivan’s orbs were wide.
That grab the latter’s attention.
“Enlighten me,” she said.
“T—the news!” Ivan was spouting the words rather in a hurry. “You need to watch the news!”
“What?” She frowns.
- Writer
