Chapter 9 Should I call you Elias or Milena, Emily

And that was it.

Bash left his seat so abruptly that his chair nearly dropped on the ground, and the cutlery and spoons scattered all over the table. He could barely control his anger, and when he found Emmanuel looking at him strangely, Bash gave him a tight-lipped smile, saying, "Sorry, My girlfriend has a conference tomorrow in Milan. I have to drop her at the airport right now. Hope you won't mind if I. . ."

"Oh, that won't be a problem." Emmanuel smiled softly at Bash, holding mischief in his eyes that Bash missed noticing fast. "Bring your dad and brother to Brazil next time. I want to apologize to Andrew for that blunt rejection from Milena. Eriberto spoilt her, you see. I need to make sure your family isn't holding any grudges against me when we have to work together for the time being."

The only thing that man cared about was Bash's family, who Bash had as a backup that he would never use, even if his company went bankrupt. Emmanuel wouldn't care if Bash failed to bring him the money he demanded at the end of the year, as there would be the Millers to take it over after Bash, firing him from his position. How did Bash miss seeing through this cunning man's act?

Forcing a smile, Bash said, "Sure, Mr. Iglesias. I will bring them here soon."

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Bash wasted no time leaving the Iglesias estate and climbed into his car to drive off. He sent Julian to Elias's apartment when Bash couldn't reach the bartender to talk about the event in LA, where he planned to propose to his Eline.

But now, he needed to talk with his father first, which he couldn't do over a phone call.

Julian couldn't make it here quickly to pick him up, so Bash decided to take the cab or any available public transport with fewer people. Not many people live in this area of Sao Paulo. . .only billionaires, affluent socialites, or political figures who could afford to live here. Bash wished to buy an estate for himself in this city, but he wouldn't want to stay anywhere close to Emmanuel Iglesias.

On his way to the main gate of that colony, he heard voices coming from the dark corner of the alley where the entire estate was under construction. The floors were already booked by those who wanted to have their penthouse, and Bash was late in the sale.

"I know, Millie. I know. Please don't cry like that."

"I need to see him. Please don't stop me today. You won't lose your job for me. Please, Robbe. I don't have a choice."

Bash frowned when those voices sounded familiar to him. He knew he could leave, but his legs had a mind of their own. Making sure no one could see or sense his presence, he moved slightly closer and tried to hear them clearly or at least see their faces.

"You have, Millie. You always have one, but you have to go back home. This place is no longer safe for you. Please try to unders- "

The girl's voice wavered. "T-they are making up stories now, Robbie. Cheryl is my blood. How. . .how could he pay millions to others to be my sister's parents? He took my parents from me, and now he wants to take the only reason I still didn't give up on life?"

Bash went stiff, and that man cried out, sounding terrified, "No, don't do that. I am begging you. Please don't talk like your mother."

"I won't ask for his signature anymore, Robbe. He can keep my mother's share, but dad...? I want to see him. I don't know where he is. It has been over a year. I have been looking for him, but- "

Suddenly, Bash got a call on his phone and was late to turn it into silent mode as their conversation ended, and he heard footsteps approaching him. The female voice he found familiar earlier turned hard, "Who is there? Come out right now!"

His heart dropped in his stomach, and he had never felt so terrified in his life that he turned his heels and took off running when the voices and the sounds of heels hitting the concrete road got louder behind him. He was new in that place. He left his people in the hotel for Madeline. Then there wasn't a vehicle on the road. What should he do when he has no guns with him?

A bead of sweat dripped down his face. His right leg was killing him because of the pressure he had to put on his already wounded leg. He hurt himself during his exercise before coming to this city, then that girl kicked him exactly where he was hurt, and now, he had to run. The only thing he could do was not to put too much pressure on his right leg, but getting hurt there was inevitable.

Looking over his shoulder, Bash didn't see anyone, but he didn't stop running down the quiet street with no people around.

He halted in his pace to catch some breath when he reached the backstreet with people around. He thought he was safe, that nothing could go wrong with him and that the stalker's heiress had already lost him in her sight or, for whatever reason, she had chased him so far. It had to be her, and she couldn't be any different from her grandfather, who used him for his benefit. Fuck! He should have listened to Kennedy and Julian. He shouldn't have tangled himself and given in to his ambition, ignoring the signs.

Not a single bus passed on that road, or even the trucks stopped when Bash waved his hand at them. He saw many empty cars and hoped they would stop, but the drivers didn't roll down the windows even in that hot summer and drove off with their non-ac cars, looking a bit off, tensed. What the hell was wrong with these Portuguese people? He pressed his lips in a thin line, enraged.

Bash couldn't be any more annoyed with their behavior. He started regretting his decision to stop on that street crowded with druggies, drunkards, and homeless people, who seemed like they couldn't keep their eyes off him. And they were not his fans or had never heard of him, but a few of the tall figures stumbling towards him with nasty grins, putting their hands in their pockets.

"New here, sir?"

Bash's back stiffened when one of them asked in their language. He learned Portuguese before coming to Sao Paulo, so it wasn't hard to understand what they asked. Keeping his mouth shut, he thought about walking away, but he bumped into a druggie behind him.

"My brother asked a simple question, sir. Why do you ignore him?"

That man slurred and let his gaze trail on the clothes Bash had on with visible greed and violence in his eyes.

Bash stiffened even more when that man, who didn't look like he had taken a shower for over a week, raised his hand and touched the suit jacket he had on that he would never wear again. "This one set must have cost you a fortune. Didn't it, sir?"

In this situation, Bash knew he should keep his mouth shut, but before he could stop himself, he spat aloud, "You can have it."

The man Bash avoided earlier giggled behind him. "As if we have meetings to attend tomorrow."

In response, the man before Bash sneered at that guy, "Stupid, bitch! Do you know how much we will get if we sell it in the garment store? We don't have to think about buying tokens from dealers over a month." Turning his attention back to Bash, he grinned, "Don't mind him, sir. He can't be nice to anyone like me. Do you want me to help you to take this suit off for you now?"

"No, I will do that." Bash quietly took that off and handed his suit over to them after taking his wallet and phone out of the pocket. And then the disaster happened. The guy behind him snatched them from Bash's hand, startling Bash. "Hey! Give that back to me!"

The man before him suddenly pulled out his gun from his waistband and pushed it against Bash's chest. His voice changed from mild to violent as he threatened the foreigner in their place, "We hate chaos here, sir. Stay quiet if you don't want to die so young."

"Put your gun down."

Bash said in a calm but threatening tone. . .unfortunately, still unaware of where he had run into all the places.

As expected, he got a blow under his chin with the barrel of that gun, and the hooligans surrounded him with their arms in their hands. "I warned you, sir. But you have got to make it incredibly hard for us."

Bash sneered, spitting the blood out of his mouth. "Let the police come here. I will make sure you don't get out of the cell."

"Police? And here?" Everyone around him laughed with a comical look. Bash struggled to get away from them, but their hold was too tight, and they had knives and guns in their hands. The guy who had his gun pressed against Bash's throat stopped laughing and said with a dark glint in his eyes, "Tell me where you live, sir. I promise I will make sure your family gets your body. Y. . .you were nice to me, unlike others I came across. That's the least I can do for you, going against the person we paid us to take your life."

What?

Bash's eyes enlarged to hear him.

Someone paid them to kill him! Is it that ungrateful heiress again?

Bash broke free of their hold and swiftly snatched one of their guns from their grasp, elbowing them and punching them under the throat of the guy in his side. He knew he wouldn't be getting help from anyone, so he had to fight back and did whatever he needed to survive and fired bullets blindly, avoiding the shots they targeted in his direction. His throat dried up when he failed to shoot anyone. Bash didn't have any bullets in that gun, either. Throwing it away, he started running again, avoiding the empty place.

Suddenly, a Jeep pulled over before him, and someone in the backseat pushed the door for him, urging him, "Get in quickly!"

Bash wasted no time in getting in, and he shut the door, and they drove off. The goons fired bullets in the car's direction, but soon the sound faded, and Bash noticed them scurrying away when the police vans arrived as soon as they left that place.

Breathing heavily, he looked up to thank the person who gave him the lift and soon froze in his place when he saw. . .her.

His mouth hung low, and his gaze narrowed at her pale face and then at her extended hand holding a water bottle for him. He looked at her face, and again, his eyes flashed an icy look, seeing the man's clothes she had on, which reminded him of something.

His blood boiled in rage. Gritting his teeth, he glowered, "Should I call you Elias or Milena, Ms. Emily Iglesias James?"