love and demons.

While the rhythms danced across the plains, the wind flowed, carrying whispers that formed dissonant languages. Billy held Mónica tightly, completely drenched in sweat; his entire body was moist, while Mónica only grew more anxious, longing for time to stretch out. Deeply. Their bodies were united by an animalistic passion, filled with desires and sighs, expressing thousands of sentiments—anger, rage, deceit, love, disillusionment, and the unique scents of each other, different yet now entwined by an apparent, foreign, and colorless essence that felt natural.

Only the movements of their intertwined pelvises created a murmur, but she felt utterly defeated, extinguished, and claimed. He finished inside Mónica; she wrapped her legs around him and pressed against her.

—More, we need more, my love —Mónica remarked, watching as he withdrew from her; it was her way of urging him on. They became liquid from that moment onward.

Mónica turned to Billy and reached out her hands to grasp his flaccid penis, filled with fluids. She lowered herself and took a long suck for five seconds. At that point, he was as hard as a rock; watching Mónica as she rose and fell, rising and falling again, then pressing her hips against him in friction as she moved fleetingly from side to side.

—It has been weeks, forgotten weeks; it has been weeks and weeks in which human warmth was minimal —Mónica commented, absorbing every detail and taking in the aspects of their disconnection; it was precisely what she needed.

Billy turned to Monica and kissed her lips fiercely while she placed her hands on his shoulders. Billy stood firm, trying to maintain his stance as she bit down hard on his shoulder while he gripped her backside tightly, going up and down. It was the decision he had been anticipating and holding back.

A gentle slap—a moment to catch her breath.

—I think you won't be sleeping much tonight —she whispered.

…

Billy woke up the next day at 11 a.m. Monica lay curled up beside him, both in sync with their breathing. She always slept hugging him, resting her head, and using one hand to get comfortable. She slept on her side, and it was practically an insult to her if she wasn't allowed to sleep that way.

The door was knocking.

–Love, the door is knocking,– Monica mumbled, her tone slightly annoyed.

–I'm on it,– he whispered.

He got up, trying to take a long step, and realized he was completely naked, covered in what could only be described as a misguided premonition. And that premonition felt like a sign.

–I'm coming!– This time, he shouted louder than usual, Monica's groan signaling her relief when the knocking stopped. He quickly slipped into a pair of shorts.

When he opened the door, it was Kate. She saw Billy standing there, still completely disheveled. The room reeked of sex, his hair tousled, his lazy, smoldering gaze almost hypnotic. Kate, visibly nervous and shy, stuttered out a few words.

Monica heard the young Brit's words, irritated and eager to end the conversation. She grabbed Billy's shirt, slipped it on, took a deep breath, and walked over.

–Love, is something wrong?– she asked, marking her territory with an air of casual dominance, placing her hand suggestively on Billy's backside with a mischievous grin. Kate was utterly flustered at the scene.

–I-I'm so sorry to bother you,– Kate stammered, her voice trembling, her nerves taking over.

–We need to be on set,– Billy said calmly.

Kate nodded, her anxiety bubbling over. She had knocked repeatedly and even shouted a bit, but she hadn't anticipated such an awkward encounter. The sight of an intimate couple threw her off so much that she had to bite her cheek to stop herself from laughing. Trying to say something coherent, all she could think about was needing a boyfriend—someone who could whisk her away to an island.

–I'll be down in a moment,– Billy said, closing the door.

Monica sauntered back into the room, her hips swaying provocatively.

–Join me in the shower, darling,– she said with a teasing smirk.

***

Everything was already in motion. Amelia Donner Rockefeller was turning 18 in November, marking the perfect time for everything to fall into place. For five years, every detail had been scrutinized—photos, bribes, thefts, and embezzlement. They had enough ammunition to bury the boy under a landslide.

–I expect everything to be in the position we desire in the coming days,– declared William Donner Rockefeller.

For fifty years, the Rockefeller family had been fighting to stay afloat. However, a series of mistakes slowly eroded their empire. The Great Depression, strikes, and antitrust issues had taught them that being a society's focal point was a double-edged sword. Selling off their stakes, they now survived by acquiring large shares in major corporations.

They held 15% of Ford Motor Company, 35% of General Electric, 42% of Target, 32% of Coca-Cola, and substantial holdings in American investment funds involved in trafficking. But their most significant power lay in their 27% ownership of Bank of America.

Their first attempt had been an alliance with the Mars family, but their offer had been deemed insulting and was harshly rejected.

Now, only one option remained—a handsome, wealthy, and talented American face to rejuvenate the family and propel them to unprecedented heights.

–Yes, sir, we have everything in hand. But the beauty pageant issues are proving to be quite complicated,– said Charles, the family's butler.

Amelia was undeniably captivating, a beautiful young woman with exceptional qualities. Among her strengths was her refusal to abandon her granddaughter when faced with challenges. However, their latest plan seemed naive and ambitious, driven by a need to succeed.

–Every one of my demands?– William inquired, his voice carrying absolute authority.

–Yes, sir. She has the best diet, and the finest tutors, and her mother has filled her head with fantasies of modeling. When she comes to us seeking a place in the competition, we'll act according to the plan. Recently, she watched the boy's movie and cried. She believes she has evaded us, but I fear she is still under our watch. Her desires have been planted, and she will yield to our demands, either through her mother's influence or your word.–

William nodded in agreement, his expression cold and calculating.

Maximilian had graduated with a degree in business administration and completed a master's program, but he lacked the instincts of a seasoned entrepreneur. He was a fool, lacking the cunning needed for success.

–His graduation is in a month. Tell him he can ask me for anything, and I'll grant it, as long as it's within limits,– William said, manipulating his family like pawns on a chessboard.

–Understood, sir. I'll make sure the message is delivered,– Charles replied.

The family's influence, though waning, still extended far. Despite their struggles, they held on to their legacy, investing in entertainment as their next gambit. Observing the boy's clumsy but talented maneuvers, William saw potential.

Studying photos of young Amelia, her beauty was undeniable, though he noted she needed eyelid adjustments and a stricter diet. Everything would be taken care of.

...