A shot at Love

Nicole's Point of View

It was a casual Saturday morning in April, just after the Easter celebration. The days were becoming longer, temperatures were rising, trees were sprouting new leaves, and it rained frequently.

My family and I were seated at the dining table. There were only five of us: my mother, a typical housewife; my father, who had been unemployed since the oil company he worked for went bankrupt; and my two brothers, who were twenty-five and twenty-four, respectively. Both were jobless and lazy, passing time gambling with neighborhood hoodlums and gangsters.

At twenty-two, I worked at a well-known and busy restaurant in downtown San Francisco. I had taken the job two years ago after completing my computer course. Ever since, my family's situation had changed-things had become hard. Every day, I brought home two hundred dollars and two full plastic bags of food, drinks, and cake. However, the two hundred dollars wasn't my daily income. It was merely a portion of the numerous tips I received from lustful older men and thriving young guys who admired my beauty. On a good day, I could make up to seven hundred dollars from admirers. Even the manager, Mrs. Alberta, often praised me for attracting more customers with my striking appearance and undeniable politeness.

My colleagues were envious and dreaded seeing me, but I couldn't care less. They weren't going to foot my bills for Harvard, where I planned to pursue a bachelor's degree. I vividly remembered the day I fell terribly ill and had to take a break from work. The manager called me, kindly asking me to show up at the restaurant-even if just for two hours-because sales had been unimpressive. I did, and guess what? The food sold out within those two hours, and I earned a thousand dollars just for being there in a pathetic state. I set aside eight hundred dollars, depositing it into my savings account, which was locked to prevent me from tampering with the funds, and took two hundred dollars home.

My mother was surprised and asked how I had managed to work only two hours and return with so much money. I dodged her question, went to my room, and slammed the door behind me. I couldn't imagine being in my mother's position-getting pregnant at sixteen and giving birth to my first brother at seventeen. A mistake she called "careless," caused by a huge crush she had on my father. Ever since her first child, she had been a housewife, taking care of chores while my father worked and provided for the family.

Now, twenty-five years later, she was forty-two with three kids. My father, six years older than her, was nowhere near his former self, having lost his job a year ago. A job that once paid him an impressive seventy thousand dollars a month had vanished like sand washed away by the tide due to bankruptcy.

Luckily for me, I had already finished high school and my course, or things would have been much harder. Two weeks after my father lost his job, I heard about a vacant position at the restaurant where I now work as head waitress. I quickly went for an interview. Boom! I got the job without any hindrances, and that was how I helped my family avoid eating from hand to mouth.

This Saturday, after breakfast, my father announced that he had an important message to deliver, so we sat attentively. His sharp voice cut through the anxious silence.

"As we all know, Nicole has been assisting this family with the most important things-feeding, rent, and transportation-ever since I lost my job. Taking up the role of a father in the family, despite being the last child, is a brave step, and I will continue to appreciate and hold her in high regard."

My brothers exchanged puzzled looks, trying to restrain themselves from bursting into laughter. They had a habit of finding amusement in serious moments. My mother nodded and smiled at me, the smirk on her lips filled with motherly love and concern.

My father continued, his voice a little calmer now. "Last week, I ran into a well-known investor from my former workplace, and he offered to help get me out of my current situation."

I widened my eyes, suddenly more inquisitive than ever. My mother leaned back in her chair, focusing her attention on him, while my brothers, for once, remained quiet.

"He said he'll give Anthony and Alfred job opportunities at a huge tech company in New York, with a hundred thousand dollars in weekly pay. He'll set up a fashion store for my wife, give me a fleet of cars, a huge mansion, millions of dollars, and connect me with influential merchants-if only I..."

He trailed off, his voice laden with sadness.

My head spun, and for a moment, I thought I was dreaming. But just as my fantasies began settling in, he made the unbelievable announcement.

"All this he's willing to do for me-if I allow Nicole to be his wife. That's the only condition. He will help me only if I agree."

My father bowed his head in guilt.

The room fell silent. My mother opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. My brothers, usually indifferent, were now more stunned than ever. As for me, I was shaken to my core. My thoughts stood still. I felt dizzy.

How could a man I didn't even know come up with such a ridiculous proposition just to help my father? It was absurd. It felt like something straight out of a novel or a movie, except this was my reality-and it was terrifying.

My eldest brother, Anthony, broke the silence, his voice tense.

"And what did you say, Father? Did you agree to his proposal?"

My father remained silent, avoiding eye contact. My anxiety hit rock bottom. My heartbeat quickened as we all waited for his response.

Still, he remained quiet-his head bowed, face gloomy, body covered in sweat. I was running out of patience. The suspense was suffocating.

"Father, please say something! Did you agree? Keeping quiet won't help anything," I pleaded, my voice thick with anxiety.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"I agreed. Not long ago, I received an alert of twenty million dollars, along with a text confirming Anthony and Alfred's employment status."

He took a deep breath before delivering the final blow.

"Nicole, you're getting married next week."

My head pounded. The world stopped spinning as tears of frustration filled my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. I refused to find solace in their presence. I stood up from the dining table and walked straight to the door.

I heard my father, mother, and brothers calling me back, but I didn't look. I crossed the main road without even glancing at my surroundings and kept walking toward the restaurant where I worked. Though it was Saturday, my day off, I needed to be alone.

With every step, my tears fell faster. Strangers stared, some whispering, others shaking their heads sympathetically. Some even laughed at my misery. After ten minutes of walking, I arrived at the restaurant and collapsed onto an empty chair at the entrance.

Then, I let it all out.

"I have done nothing but good. What have I done to deserve this? My dream of becoming an estate attorney-what will happen to it? My aspirations of being the most influential lawyer out of San Francisco have been swept away like dust in the wind. Oh Lord, why have You forsaken me? After supporting my family, this is my reward? Why? Why? Why?" I sobbed.

My father's unshaken words-You're getting married next week-echoed in my mind. The weight of his betrayal crushed me. I felt suffocated, trapped in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. My innocence, my freedom, my dreams-all stolen in a single moment.

Alone, in that quiet place, I longed for escape. But the reality of what was coming felt like an inescapable storm. My tears fell unnoticed as I whispered into the wind, "Please... someone help me."

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?"

Nicole's Point of View

I looked up to see who knew it was that cared for my attention.

Lo and behold! I couldn't believe my eyes. This man standing before me was a majestic figure; he had smooth, pale warm skin that complimented his piercing, ice-blue eyes, giving him a mysterious, majestic look. His thick black curly hair stood with much grace on his head, his sharp jawline couldn't be ignored, his face so chiseled and muscular like those models on the runway. Standing at 6'3", his tall, built frame exuded both composure and elegance.

"I heard you crying from a distance. I was about to get into my car, but you're too beautiful to be in this condition. Is anything the matter with you?" he asked curiously, breaking the awkward silence between us.

I quickly dried my face with the back of my palms. I feigned a smile and blinked quickly twice. "It's nothing, I'm fine, by the way." He was taken aback.

The smirk at the corner of his lips told me he didn't believe a bit of what I told him. "I refuse to believe that it's nothing. I mean, I've been watching you from afar until you came and sat at the front of this lonely restaurant. What's the matter? I'm willing to help."

"I'm fine. I'm just overwhelmed by family issues. I needed to clear my head, hence my presence here at this place," I murmured quietly, hoping I would be able to convince him this time around.

He looked at me for a few seconds and nodded gently in an amusing manner. "I'm so sorry about your pain. If you don't mind, why don't you hop in and let me take you somewhere nice?"

I responded almost immediately. "I don't want to go anywhere with you, and I can't be seen in public with you."

His expression changed immediately. The look of inquisitiveness turned to confusion. I was grateful for his willingness to help me, but I was scared my brothers would see us together, and that would add more salt to my already broken heart.

"How about my house? It's just down the end of the town towards Golden Gate Bridge. Do you mind coming with me? My car is just over there," he said calmly, pointing towards the car. I thought over his selfless proposal

. In as much as it made sense, I was scared. What if he did something terrible to me? What would be my fate? How would my family locate me and come to my rescue?

As different thoughts pounded in my mind, his thick voice cut through my head again.

"Thank you, sir. I will be fine," I said convincingly. He was not having it. "But I insist. What if some hoodlums come and do something bad to you? This place is lonely and dangerous. Please, permit me to be your guest and take you out of here." Seeing that he wasn't backing down a bit from letting me be, I agreed.

Together, we walked to his car: a black sleek Mercedes Benz jeep with tinted windows. While he drove, he cracked jokes that brightened my mind and got me out of my moody demeanor. I

couldn't help but think of myself in his huge arms while he cuddled me-if perhaps my fantasy ever happened. "Stupid Nicole, you are such a bitch," I cursed myself in my head. Having such desires for a man I hardly knew and had just met was the beginning of delusion at its peak.

After ten minutes of peaceful driving, he made his way into a huge gated estate and parked in the garage. Immediately, the car came to a halt. He got out quickly and opened the passenger door for me. I was stunned by his gentlemanliness.

As if that wasn't enough, the huge, episodic mansion and its compound serenity hit my eyes in full reality. The flowers bloomed in their glory, complementing the spring weather. The house was adorned with white and gold paint, and two molded lion heads stood at the entrance of the house. Complementing its undeniable beauty were two huge pillars standing strong above the tarred ground.

The rose family scent from the corner hit my nose just before he spoke. "Do you like the place?" I smiled gently and nodded in approval.

The sitting room boasted a stylish white and gold color scheme, with adorable gold molding framing the ceiling and doorways. Posh white velvet sofas, accented with gold finishes, were arranged around a grand fireplace, which sparkled under the glow of the crystal chandelier. Everything about the sitting room screamed class, luxury, and old money aesthetics.

"You may make yourself comfortable while I go get you something to drink. Do you take whiskey? I'll add some ice," he inquired. "I don't take alcohol, sir. I'd prefer Malta and ice," I responded.

He nodded and walked towards the extreme end of the sitting room before diverting. Shortly after, he returned with a tray, and on it were a glass cup and two bottles of Malta Guinness. I swallowed hard at the sight of the Malta and ice. My thirst was so high that I almost lost my cool. In no time, I opened the bottle of Malta and poured it into the glass.

The cold sensation washed down my anguish as I took a sip. So soothing, so rich, so chilled-just how I liked it. "So if you don't mind, tell me about yourself. I want to know some things about you," he whispered calmly, as he stared at me with keen interest.

I took a deep breath and looked at him.

His blue eyes seemed more interested than usual, his face red and still, and his arms were folded as he awaited my response. I began, "I'm the last child of three children. My parents are unemployed, and I happen to be working in a restaurant. That restaurant you saw me crying in before you approached me-that's where I work!"

He was puzzled and opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. I didn't know what to call the expression on his face: surprised, unsure, or disbelief.

I continued, "I've been supporting my family for a while now with crucial needs-feeding, rent, and transportation. I thought my efforts were being appreciated, but it's a lie. My father met with an old investor from his previous workplace who offered to help, on the condition that I become his way... And, you know what... my father accepted. Now my life is about to be given away, just like a pawn, a mere slave with no value. That's how my father regards me."

After I finished my statement, I looked up to see his reaction: his eyes wide open, his brows furrowed, and his mouth wide open. I knew he was searching for the right response, but no words came.

The weight of what I just said lingered in the air, and all he could do was shake his head pitifully, concerned and caught off guard. It was as if the ground beneath him had opened, and he was struggling to find his stand.

After an awkward silence that almost seemed like eternity, he spoke, "What do you intend on doing now? I can assist you with some money and see how I can be of help to you. But promise me you'll always stay in touch. I will be heading to Japan tomorrow for a very important business meeting and return by next weekend. Before then, let me see my capability. You don't deserve this; it's sad and pathetic."

I knelt down and thanked him profusely, but he asked me to stand up, saying he would do more for me if he had the opportunity.

My tears were flowing without ease, and my feet were sore from my racing mind and uncalm demeanor. He requested my account number, and shortly after, he showed me the receipt of his debit transaction. He had just transferred a hundred and fifty dollars into my PayPal account. I was marveled at such kindness, and my knees fell on the ground again, thanking him profusely.

After talking for some time, he led me upstairs to a master bedroom and showed me the shower. I took off my dress and went in, allowing the water to wash away all my bitterness and developed hatred for my father. I came out of the bedroom with a towel wrapped around my body and met a clean robe on the bed with aloe vera gel.

I quickly dried my body, applied the gel, and put on the robe. The air conditioner was acting on the highest intensity, and it made me freeze. Just as I was about to turn it off, he opened the door and walked in slowly. I was stunned. He wasn't wearing a shirt; he only wore loose pajama trousers, revealing his huge, erect package.

His shoulders were broad, and his biceps, toned muscles, and pecs couldn't be ignored as he stood still. The passion in his eyes burned with maximum intensity. One thing led to another, and I let him into my body, riding me to climax, coupled with pain and satisfaction. My moans filled the room, and he rode me harder, increasing his pace.

The evidence of his thrusts took a toll on my body. It didn't take long for him to break my hymen and deflower me. When he noticed the blood on his dick, he asked if I hadn't been touched, and I told him, "Yes." I could see the proud look on his face.

After about thirty minutes of pleasurable sex, I collapsed on the bed and fell deeply asleep.

Nicole's Point of View

The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache and a sore throat. My joints ached, and confusion blurred my vision. Then, the memories of last night came rushing back-the way Sylvester had taken me, the passion between us still fresh in my mind. As I struggled to get out of bed, my eyes landed on a white envelope tied with a red ribbon. Curious, I picked it up and read it aloud:

Nicole,

I may have met you just yesterday,

But,

What we shared yesterday was beyond passionate.

I hope you wake up with the biggest smile on your face after your sweet dreams.

I did not want to wake you up, which is why I left.

Miss you, and just so you know, I will never,

Ever leave you for anything in this world.

With love,

Sylvester.

A huge smile spread across my face. How could a man I had only met yesterday make me feel what my family, whom I had known all my life, never had? I dropped the letter and stood up, but a sharp pain from last night's experience shot through my hips, making me stagger toward the bathroom.

As the water cascaded down my body, I couldn't help but think about Sylvester-his touch, his deep moans, the way he held me. His grip had been both strong and tender, and I craved it again. When I stepped out of the shower, a loud knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. Quickly adjusting my towel, I walked to the door and opened it.

An elderly man stood there, dressed in a white shirt, blue pants, and a hat. "Good morning, madam. Boss asked me to drop you off at your house."

"I will be with you shortly," I replied gently.

He nodded and left. I turned back inside and got dressed. As I opened the wardrobe, a red gown caught my eye. What was a red gown doing in Sylvester's wardrobe? Without thinking much about it, I slipped it on and packed my previous clothes into a plastic bag. One glance at myself in the mirror, and I was ready to go.

The moment I got into the car, reality hit me again. How could a father sell his daughter like a pawn, like a useless slave, just for money? No integrity whatsoever. I had come to believe my father was not just a fool-but a very stupid one for dictating my life.

The car came to a stop at exactly eight-fifteen. Standing on the veranda were my father, mother, and brothers, looking more stunned than ever. As I stepped out, the driver sped off, leaving me to face the four of them.

"And where do you think you are going, young lady?" my mother asked sarcastically.

"That car that dropped you off belongs to whom?" my father added.

I swept my eyes over them, irritation clear on my face. "Why do you care? It's none of your business."

My father's eyes widened, and my mother's mouth fell open in shock.

My eldest brother, Alfred, stepped forward angrily. "Since when did you have the guts to talk to Dad and Mom that way? Have you no regard, Nicole? Or has something gotten into that stupid head of yours?"

Fury boiled in me. "Since when did my movements become a problem in this house? Please, you all should let me-"

Alfred cut me off before I could finish.

"May maggots feast on that flirty mouth of yours! Are you insane? Are you aware that you are standing before Mom, Dad, Anthony, and me?" he yelled, sweat dripping from his forehead and soaking his singlet.

I had had enough. For too long, I had tolerated their nonsense. It was time to speak my mind.

In a loud voice, I screamed, "What do you know about anything, Alfred? And you, Anthony-what do you know besides wasting your life, screwing every girl in the neighborhood, and being a complete nuisance? The both of you sit around while I-a woman-work tirelessly, and you feed off my hard-earned money. And now you think you have the right to comment on my life? Oh, please! Shut the fuck up and get out of my sight. I need some rest."

Anthony wasn't having it. His anger was palpable, and as he raised his hand to slap me, my mother quickly stepped in and stopped him.

"Go on, hit me! That's all you're good at-hitting women. I pity the woman who will bear your children. Rubbish!" I spat with a smirk.

"Mom, Dad, can you hear what Nicole is saying?" Alfred turned to our parents, disbelief in his voice.

My mother tried to calm the situation. "Have some regard, Nicole. Don't let-"

"Oh, please, Mom! You should be saying that to Dad. After all, he sold me off like a pawn," I muttered arrogantly, cutting her off.

The shock on their faces filled me with satisfaction. This was the first time I was standing up for myself. Even though I knew I was being arrogant, I didn't care-I was finally speaking my truth.

"If you all don't mind, excuse me," I said, brushing past them.

I stormed into my room and slammed the door shut. The moment I hit the bed, the tears came. What pained me the most wasn't just that my life was being taken away from me, but that I could no longer chase my dreams, my ambitions. And worse, I was supposed to marry a total stranger.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the pain away.

A loud bang on my bedroom door startled me awake. It was my mother. She stood there in a beautiful gown, her face glowing with an unsettling smile.

"He is here already, Nicole. Pack your things," she said, her hands clasped behind her back.

A big yawn escaped my lips. I was still groggy, and her words barely made sense to me.

"I mean, your husband-to-be is here to pick you up. His entourage is waiting outside," she clarified, her voice firm.

Sleep vanished from my eyes in an instant. My stomach churned, and nausea hit me like a wave.

"What? I don't understand, Mom. Why so soon?" I asked, my voice laced with confusion and anger.

"I have no answers to your questions. Pack your things and get dressed," she ordered before walking out of the room.

Tears streamed down my face, fast and unrelenting, like the spring rain. My life was about to change forever, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.