Strawberry Kisses by Phavy Prieto (always you kirsty moseley .TXT) 📕

to tell. I started fidgeting because I knew what he would say next. "As I already told you, our friendship is long-standing, and Michael has always been like a brother to me. My mother is also very fond of him, despite the distance created when she learned about his relationship with Rebecca. That's why she didn't go to the ceremony. I would say that my mother is probably even more resentful than I am about what happened in the past. The fact is that Michael told her about my future bride and, according to my mother's words, his exact words were: "She's charming. I'm very happy that Damian has finally found his sunshine."

"What a gaffe!" I moaned, putting a hand to my chest. "What did Michael say when he found out there was no fiancée?" I asked anxiously and cursing that bleached busty woman who had reached her goal.

"My mother thought it was all true."

"No!" I screamed as I realized that I was in a public place with other people that noticed our presence.

"She was so excited that I couldn't tell her the truth."

"How could you do that?" I asked lowering my voice.

"You will just need to pretend to be my fiancée for a few weeks and that's it. You were very good this weekend. I don't think it will be very complicated," he said with such self-confidence that I believed it too.

"That means lying to your mother! Isn't that supposed to be wrong?" I asked, trying to figure out what kind of woman Damian's mother was.

Usually my relationships didn't go that far as to know my supposed mother-in-law. If she was like one of those portrayed by most of my friends, I would better run away.

"After what happened with Rebecca, believe me, she doesn't have great expectations," he replied with a devilish smile that made me think the worst. Why did Damian's mother still take into consideration the busty giraffe?

If she is expecting a Barbie-like daughter-in-law, you’d better go to a toy store, because I don't think I look like her, not even with pink nail polish.

For the rest of the afternoon I couldn't stop thinking of that pantomime. Me, the mister-muscle-boss' official fiancée! Everyone in the office would know about it soon. For sure they would know! It was a family business. My already indispensable role in the company would fade and, together with it, my conscience. I had to lie to an entire family and, even worse, to my alleged mother-in-law who seemed happy to meet me.

I angrily threw my pen against the table because I could not focus on work. I went through my planner in which I had just deleted all the tasks already accomplished. That’s why I liked to have a planner, to cross out something that I had already achieved with great pleasure. Maybe my desire not to waste time, to control everything and leave nothing to chance came from the fact that I had had the ambition to overcome my limits, to stand out and be the best in everything since I was a child. Maybe being a know-it-all at school didn't help: when I was a child, my best friend was arithmetic. As I grew, my breasts developed and that was when I started getting attention of the boys despite the pimples on my face. I had never been bullied, I was a normal child, a bit introverted, who excelled in her classes, but who could not fully fit into a group, perhaps because I was too rational.

As time went by, things got better. I met Nerea with whom I still got along despite our very different characters and made new friends at university, although I almost never managed to create strong and lasting bonds. I thought things would change at work, but apart from one of the accountants who unfortunately went on a leave due to the risk of miscarriage and who never came back, I could not maintain a friendship beyond the office environment with anyone. Maybe I was the odd one who did not allow others to build enough confidence and start a relationship with me. In my favour, I must say that I had almost always found myself in predominantly male contexts and, as I made my career, my role led people not to get too close to me out of fear.

The point is that of all the possible women Damian could marry, I wasn't one of them. I didn't know how to deal with people and I wasn't a model. My qualities could be reduced to a brilliant résumé and a certain eloquence. Maybe I could add that I was funny sometimes, but not much more.

"Miss Acosta," Ingrid's voice brought me back from my impromptu musings.

"Yes, Ingrid," I replied a bit dazed.

"I'm leaving an hour earlier as I told you this morning. Do you need anything? Otherwise I'll see you tomorrow."

"No, I don't. Don't worry, you can go," I said distractedly. "Well, yes, I actually do need something! Can I ask you something a little out of the ordinary?"

I didn't know how long Ingrid had been working in the company. She was young, with straight, neatly combed blond hair, and wore glasses that made her appear more intelligent. She would definitely represent a better profile of a possible daughter-in-law to Mrs. Devoir than I did.

"Of course," she replied immediately, "if there is anything I can help you with, you can count on me."

Her availability surprised me and made me think that we could become good friends.

"Have you ever seen Mrs. Devoir around here? I mean Damian Devoir's mother." I observed Ingrid's face to see if I could draw any conclusions from her expression.

"I've only met her twice. She is a very polite and elegant lady, but I didn't have the opportunity to deal with her personally, since she comes here only for the