he should have on top of still feeling the residual stress of the day's many events. Now was not the time for him to argue with her, especially since she'd been at that darn chili sauce again. He was starting to see a distinct correlation between her fits of fury and that red devil's brew. He caught the flying undergarments and tried avoiding the issue. His shoulders sagged exaggeratedly and he bemoaned woefully, “I thought we were going to take a shower?”
In her mind Carolina saw herself wearing her wedding dress standing against the backdrop of the lavender field, waiting, growing older, still waiting for him to legally wed her but he doesn't and she dies rooted to that spot, because he'd run off with some other woman. Carolina gave a strangled cry, felt her cheeks burning, her body trembling with anger and fear. She wouldn't let him leave her. Hotheadedly she declared, “I'll kill her.” Snatching the shorts from his hand, she sniffed them, then inhaled deeply and overcome by absolute rage ripped them in two, before shoving past him with a wild howl to hurry into the other room. She felt him close behind her, reaching out to clutch her arm, so she grabbed her robe from the chair and threw it on moving quickly out onto the deck where she jumped with feline ease to the stone patio below. Down the stairs she hurried, then sprinted around the perimeter of the mansion and with every step, she felt more alone and desperate until there was nothing else.
****
Within seconds, she was back indoors, standing inside the music studio with walls covered by countless platinum discs and other various music awards that gave the room an opulent gleam, which was diminished by the reek of booze, cigars and arousal, the low, primal beat of hip-hop music pulsating through hidden speakers further shifting the regal to tribal. She glared at the four men sitting in large brown leather chairs situated around the room and the bare-bottomed women sitting
In her mind Carolina saw herself wearing her wedding dress standing against the backdrop of the lavender field, waiting, growing older, still waiting for him to legally wed her but he doesn't and she dies rooted to that spot, because he'd run off with some other woman. Carolina gave a strangled cry, felt her cheeks burning, her body trembling with anger and fear. She wouldn't let him leave her. Hotheadedly she declared, “I'll kill her.” Snatching the shorts from his hand, she sniffed them, then inhaled deeply and overcome by absolute rage ripped them in two, before shoving past him with a wild howl to hurry into the other room. She felt him close behind her, reaching out to clutch her arm, so she grabbed her robe from the chair and threw it on moving quickly out onto the deck where she jumped with feline ease to the stone patio below. Down the stairs she hurried, then sprinted around the perimeter of the mansion and with every step, she felt more alone and desperate until there was nothing else.
****
Within seconds, she was back indoors, standing inside the music studio with walls covered by countless platinum discs and other various music awards that gave the room an opulent gleam, which was diminished by the reek of booze, cigars and arousal, the low, primal beat of hip-hop music pulsating through hidden speakers further shifting the regal to tribal. She glared at the four men sitting in large brown leather chairs situated around the room and the bare-bottomed women sitting