Chapter 10 - Give Me Self-Control!

Selena's POV:

I take my car to a coffee shop halfway to my home. It’s one that I always go to when I want to be alone. I’m still annoyed by that asshole who grabbed my ass. I feel bad for Don. He was sincere to me. I guess he does like me more than a one-time-sex encounter. But I don’t feel anything for him on that. I do appreciate him a lot. He’s always been a best friend that I could lean on in times when I was a mess.

I remember when we were kids. First time we met. Someone bullied him. He was a weak boy back then. Not the bull you see now. He can kill someone with his bare hands. That strong he is. But then, I was the one who saved his ass. Two bigger boys picked on him, beating him. We were both eleven. He was a transfer student to our class. I saw the fight and him wronged. I yelled at those guys; two years older than us. They didn’t cease with punching him while he was on the cold ground in the school’s backcourt. I threw my schoolbag and jumped on those guys. I kept him behind me and put those guys at their places.

I’m good at fighting since a child. Never officially trained for it. It’s just inside of me. Mom and Dad didn’t take me to martial arts lessons as they feared I might kill someone with my temper, if I got skilled in moves. Don’t think I’m a monster or love to hurt people. No. But when someone is in danger or someone breaks some limits that puts me or my loved ones in danger, I take a stand. I never provoke a fight. Along the years, I learned how to use diplomacy instead of reacting with violence. It’s a safer route. However, these last years called the devil in me, and when I’m provoked, it gets difficult to control.

Since the day I was there for him, we became besties until high school. He was the hot guy, most popular in school, and me the nerdy one. He started girls; I was on home problems with mom that almost died. I had to take control over the house at 15, because she was bedridden with sickness. So, I didn’t have time to understand why other girls were so in love with dating and having boyfriends. At 16, I discovered my diabetes because of inner sickness and tiredness I had, that landed me in the emergency room, right after my mom got a bit better and could walk alone without help. Messy years.

All these broke us apart for some years, but we would still talk and stuff. I never fell for him. He was like a brother to me. I think I was too, a sister to him.

When I would get into arguments that could potentially lead to physical fights, and he would be around, he interfered and took the problem into his hands. Yeah, he is one that I care about and thankful I know him. He’s my brother to go to per say. Among all the people in this world, he knows me the best, and I know him the best, too. But that’s all I feel about him. Nothing more. Him being a player, doesn’t help a change in feelings on me. Not happening.

I take a seat in the empty corner of the coffee shop, after I order a latte, and start writing on my phone my resignation from Derek’s company. I tell him that the things happening in my personal life would keep me too long from my job and would affect the company. I truly apologize for the situation. I tell him that I will send him the signed one as soon as possible and try to put in a good word for Marta. I really love that kid. She’s all over the place when it comes to work, but she’s a good kid. She deserves her job and she learned a lot in the month she has been my secretary/assistant.

I scroll over my social media messages when Marta’s PM pops.

‘Where are you? Everything alright? I’m worried! Please, say something! Hope you’re not hurt!’

I have to say that Marta right now is my best friend. I talk everything with her. Well, not my personal life. I didn’t want her to know. But everything else is on subject. If they kick her out, I’ll help her find something new. I never stand for people to get hurt or out of job, especially if it’s because of me.

I start writing her a reply.

‘I’m fine, sweetie. Just family problems. Miss you. Honestly. I’ll call you later. Promise.’

The moment I hit send, I hear a strong voice calling my name. It’s a man. I turn around to see who that is and just stare at the guy after I say ‘yes’. He seems familiar, but with my dizziness, I can’t see clearly and put a match to his face from where I know him. Then it hits me. The client from this morning for whom I worked a whole week on a project that others would take one month to do it.

“Mr. Rodricks?” I look at him, surprised to see him here.

Wasn’t he supposed to see a land with Derek? Maybe it’s around here. Don’t care anyways. I hope he’s not with Derek. I can’t face him right now.

I take my professional attitude.

“Yes. Strange I meet you here.” He says, staring at me with a look into his eyes that isn’t professional at all. His eyes say he wants to have me right here.

Is this guy crazy?

I stand up. I can’t stand that look. What am I? A whore? I’m in a coffee shop, not parading to have a man. I keep my cool. I don’t want to fuck things up for Derek. I’ve already done damage with my resignation. Maybe he’s got other things in his head and I’m just hallucinating. My blood sugar levels are high. I can feel it. That’s the point when I get irritated, not necessarily because someone does something to me, but because my diabetes overruns me.

So, I have to keep it in and not ruin things. He would think I’m crazy. I’m not his type anyways. From how he looks and from how all men want, Jesse is the type of women they crave for. And you can’t blame them for it. It’s just the right thing to do.

“Yeah. Well, I live around here.” I casually say as I start having a blurred vision.

Man! I hate when this happens! Hope I don’t have it too high.

I might collapse if my body can’t handle the level of blood sugar. I attempt in controlling my inner state. I keep it steady.

Thank God!

“Are your problems solved now?”

He wants a conversation with me while I gather all my strength to keep standing? I already can’t see his face clearly. Not that I’m interested in him, but it’s a bad sign for me.

I would want to pinch myself to get to my senses and not faint, or to shake my head to stir my body up for a bit of adrenaline. I can’t do that with this man standing in front of me. I need to cut the conversation and walk away while I can still feel my feet on the ground. I can’t afford getting into the emergency room. There are a lot of things everyone needs me to do.

“No, sir. I’m afraid I have sent in my resignation. I have problems that interfere with my time working in New York. I’m sorry, but I won’t be working on your project anymore.” I’m amazed I can speak strong and clearly. It seems I’m not lost in my state. The poor man would think I hit on him or that I’m crazy. Which both situations aren’t valid.

“Call me Eric. Can I sit?”

Call him Eric? What does he want from me? When he motions his hand to the other chair, I get dizzier. God! Don’t let me collapse right now! I need to get away now! At least until I reach inside my car! Please, God! I accept collapsing in my car! Don’t leave me here! Jesus! Help...

My veins are pumping blood so fast. The rush makes me feel weaker and weaker.

Selena! Get the fuck out! Now!

“I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Rodricks. I’m sorry.” I shoot him a fake smile as he doesn’t seem to see I’m having a hurricane over me. That’s good it doesn’t show outside.

My blurred vision is still on, but my voice and speaking are intact.

“Oh! I was just finishing. I have places to go unfortunately.”

Get out, Selena! Now!

I take my purse and say the final greeting to walk the hell out from here. He’ll think I’m crazy or rude but it’s way better than see me on the floor.

“Wish you a wonderful day, sir! I have to go now.” I walk away, but not too far, when I feel a big hand grabbing my arm.

What’s happening?! What’s he doing?!

A fight starts in me, between fainting from what my diabetes does to me and the adrenaline I get from the anger that hits me from his action on me. My body tenses up in fury. At least I have that pinch of adrenaline that gets my being back to my senses for a bit.

“Selena? Please. Sit down.”

Is he for real? What does he want from me? Grabbing me?

I look at him with killer eyes. Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s his fault. I’m not one to do such things but that’s considered assault. At some degree.

“Mr. Rodricks? Would you be kind and take your hand away from my arm? Like, now.” I refrain from getting physical. He's a hot shot businessman. I don’t want any problems.

Give me strength, God, to not punch him, right now!

“If you promise to take a seat, I will.” He doesn’t want to let go.

Through my blurred vision, I see him glaring at my lips and it seems like he wants to…

Kiss me?! Is he insane?! That’s my limit! I thought he wanted to speak business! You are hitting on me?! Who the fuck do you think you are?!

“What are you doing? Let go. Now.” I’m trying to keep my control, still thinking about the contract he has with the company. But I don’t know for how long that thought will make me hold it in.

“I want to speak with you. Please. Sit.” He doesn’t let go of my arm.

Derek, I’m sorry. It’s his fault, not mine!

“Boy, I think you’re crossing some lines. I advise you to listen and let go.” He needs to back off now.

“Sit.”

Who are you? My owner?

“Why? Do I owe you something? Let go! Right now!” I start taking his hand off me, but his grip is strong.

Shit!

“If only you would sit.” He makes me sit down, keeping his hands on my shoulders.

You’re dead, boy!

I get dizzy again. Yeah.

Thank you, God! Among all the moments in time, you chose to make me like this now while this lunatic goes against my will! Peaches!

I try to force a stand up and go but he puts me back on the chair.

“Give me five minutes of your time.”

Oh! I would give you five punches right now, if I weren’t in this shitty state! Damn you, diabetes!

“You’re really out of line. I’m trying hard to not make a scene because you’re a client at the company. That’s the only thing keeping your face in one piece.” I narrow my eyes at him, trying to see his face. Luckily for him, I don’t gather his expression as I would die happy to destroy that face. “Speak.”

“Selena?” I hate my name from his mouth.

“It’s Miss Dutchmond for you.”

If you think you’re above me for having money and high social status, you’re wrong, boy!

“Selena.”

God! Give me self-control!

My vision gets a tiny bit better. About one percent better.