Chapter 3 Episode 3

I park my Tesla in front of the newspaper, and there she is. She is standing over a man slumped on the sidewalk. I can only see her from behind, and it's a fantastic view.

Her hair is long and straight, reaching halfway down her back. She puts her hands on her hips, emphasizing her little waist. Her ass is still apple-shaped. The tight black skirt hides neither it nor her lengthy legs.

I've always been fond of her behind. That includes everything else about her. The moment I saw Ana in that University of Miami class, I was hooked. She provoked in me feelings of wildness, sensitivity, and overpowering emotions. All together.

Her treachery stung so severely because I had never felt that way about anybody else.

The reason I'm no longer in love with her.

Still, my gaze moves over her body possessively because that is how I see her: as mine. By current standards, my sentiments are sexist, incorrect, and improper. I know this without a doubt and would never confess it to anyone. Except I would have told Ana long ago. She would probably have reprimanded me and then laughed.

I don't think of her as property. No, she's more like a primitive extension of me. Even after all these years. She is as much a part of me as my arms and legs. Though I am not here for pleasure, I can't help but smile as I watch her tap her foot. I think she's still impatient. When she was younger, she always want more. More encounters, sex, and accomplishments throughout her career.

Wait. Is she kicking the person on the ground? No, it looks she's nudging him with the point of her shoe. I grimace and take my foot off the brake of my cutting-edge automobile - the Tesla is electric and requires no ignition key - and I'm ready to bash the guy senseless. I go to unbuckle a cuff link so that I may roll up my shirt's sleeves.

I didn't expect it to be like this when I finally saw Ana after all these years.

She takes a step back from the person who hasn't moved and throws her hands up in the air, frustrated. I stop removing my cuffs. Is the person really gone? I reluctantly remove my gaze from her and look at the man on the ground. No, I can see him breathe. He's most likely a bum.

My gaze return to her. Now I can view her profile. I sat in the driver's seat of my Tesla, admiring her little nose, the familiar line of her jaw, and her pouty mouth. She seems much more gorgeous today than she did when we were in school. Part of me wished she'd let herself go, that she'd become awful in the years since I last saw her.

I'm afraid to confess that I still want her kiss.

The air inside my car is ice-cold after I turned on the air conditioner during my five-hour journey from Miami. Nevertheless, I'm sweating because I'm frightened. That is what Ana does to me, Luiz Menendez de Aviles, the wealthiest man in Miami. It makes me feel like a college student again.

I'm not sure whether I'd spoken to any girls before meeting Ana. If I had, I'd have forgotten about them all. There was nothing before Ana, and the years after have been the same. The same woman, repeating the same sentiments with a phony chuckle. All in the hopes of getting me as a spouse, or at the at least, a steady hookup with Ben. Despite this, or because of it, I've never moved on from Ana.

When I realized she hadn't been in class at UM, I had no idea how I'd had the guts to talk to her. She was the most gorgeous female I had ever seen, with bare legs, plump lips, and large eyes. My memory quickly rushes back to a few of my recollections. The excellent ones.

Hugging her for the first time and feeling her shake in my arms. Rafa, she'd add with her southern accent, "I was scared at first because you are." After all, you were taller than me, and you drove a motorbike because you appeared to want to eat me.

Her eyes were the color of sea glass when the setting Miami sun struck them just so.

I'd wake up with her in my arms, and her gentle, pleased sighs in her sleep would make me feel whole.

I watch her walk down the sidewalk and she seemed to be really upset. She's gnawing on her bottom lip, her eyes are squinted, and I'm guessing the nostrils on her lovely little nose are flaring. She runs her hand through her hair, beginning at her forehead, allowing the strands to stream down her fingers in a torrent of chestnut hues. I nearly groaned aloud. The free hair looks great on her. It wasn't this long in college, and I see myself grabbing it in one hand, wrapping it around my fist, and tugging.

I nibble her neck, cup her breasts, and kiss her deeply.

Because that's why I'm here: retribution.

And then forget her.

Finally.

Sure, I'm here for money, too. I don't do anything that doesn't generate a profit.

Ana turns toward me, and I reflexively fix the collar of my shirt. She can't see me since the car's windows are tinted. She didn't hear me pull up, possibly because my electric car was as quiet as a panther. Her face is little broader than when she was younger. It's still the most stunning face I've ever seen, with a mouth designed for sin and eyes as big and innocent as a doe. At once angelic and demonic.

Ana was once my Madonna and whore.

She scowls. A strand of hair falls over her eyes, and my first inclination is to whisk it away.

And kiss her. One final taste...

When the newspaper door opens, Ana whirl around to see a pregnant lady emerge and move toward her. The pregnant woman appears somewhat familiar. Yes, this is Diana, Ana's best friend. She also works at the newspaper. I had read all I could about the article before I arrived.

I stare up at the newspaper building, a massive, historic landmark that will require extensive renovations before becoming a gorgeous condominium. The real estate market in downtown St. Augustine is thriving, and I'll profit handsomely from this transaction when I convert the property to residential use.

I believe I'm here to discharge a karmic obligation to her racist, deceased father. I plan to acquire the Lavoie family newspaper, run it lean and mean, and then sell it for a profit. The business is failing horribly, and I will buy it for a song.

Ana will sing this song as I do anything I want with her. Now that I've seen her, I believe it won't be long before I get her into bed. I check my Rolex. It's nine o'clock now, and if I were a betting man, I'd wager that in twelve hours, they'll both be nude.

We'd be done sooner if we didn't have to pretend to be serious. I look at the structure and have an unpleasant recollection of her father. I grimace with disdain.

Edward Lavoie cherished two things in life. One was the St. Augustine Times. The other was Ana.

I will win both.