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In love with the Bad Guy

In love with the Bad Guy

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Lauren is a brilliant journalist, but her curiosity puts her in danger when she begins to investigate the steps of a feared Italian mobster. Vicenzo is cruel and calculating and makes Lauren his new obsession, he begins to control her steps for a personal vendetta for the story Lauren published about him. However, when he kidnaps her, he develops deeper feelings for the woman he plans to kill. The feelings the two create for each other are hot, overwhelming, and dangerous! [...] "He looked me in the eye and I felt myself flooding inside, my heart was burning and everything inside me was starting to make sense. The anger bubbled up in the same way as my desire that flowed through my legs without me having any control. He looked at me and said, "You are my Lauren, I don't make a point of being seen as a good guy, I would burn all of humanity to have you with me".

Chapter 1 - Perfect Life?

I got up one more day to work, and despite loving my job more than anything, sometimes I felt so suffocated within that parallel reality where I lived.

I took a sip of coffee so as not to be late, it certainly wasn't easy to see things in such an equal light, but I tried to remain optimistic.

I barely got to the damn office and my desk was already full, thousands of crimes that needed to be reported anyway, thousands of advertisers needing approval, and my editor-in-chief turned a blind eye to these urgencies.

A specific article has been on my desk for at least two weeks, the person who was killed in that barbaric crime has already had his body veiled and buried without what happened ever being made public. It filled me with hate to a degree that I couldn't even think straight.

I have this flaw, and the worst of all, I can never keep my fucking mouth shut!

I knocked on his door a few times, hoping to be answered as soon as possible.

"Goes into"

Said he was always in a bad mood, somehow he knew I would complain about something.

“Good morning Christopher... Well, let's go”

“Calm down Lauren! Always this fast... Man, I just woke up and I have a fucking hangover so please take it easy!”

My boss was a complete idiot... A creeping worm who only held that important position (which should have been mine) because he was the son of someone important, a piece of the worst kind.

I could barely look at him, that smell of strong drink and those who didn't shower mixed with the sweet smell of some prostitute made me nauseous.

“Christopher... the article about the bandit I want to know why it hasn't come out for approval yet! I sent you the two week"

“Speculation Lauren... Pure speculation, everything the newspaper simply can't have right now. You don't even know anything about this "bandit" you painted as a murderer, not even a linked photo, you have nothing! Just interviews and stories!”

"You are kidding? What can you tell me about the photo of the bodies? People clearly state that there is such violence over there! It's not a common drug dealer... Analyze the guy! It's international trafficking, and who knows, something worse! That was file burning I'm sure! I did my job man, I checked sources, did research, interviewed people, and delivered a pretty damning file! Why are you ignoring all this? I thought our role as journalists was to deliver the truth of the facts! And not selling a cookie ad in the paper!”

“And of course…of course it is! But still, we have to pay the newspaper bills at the end of the month Lauren, and I bet your story won't do that. And another, you're messing with heavy people! It guides you! You always cross these limits... So no! This article cannot be published, write about something more down-to-earth, more feminine... How about if I give you an article about fashion to write?”

Sexist from hell!

“But Christopher”

I said trying to be something I wasn't... sweet!

“There's no more Lauren, forget that story and forget any other stories you're thinking of tying to this case. You understood?"

I didn't even bother to respond, I was so irritated and frustrated... All my work well done thrown to the moths, simply by a bug-eyed opportunistic bum.

But I have bills to pay, and keeping quiet was essential. I sat at my desk so sad, I felt insignificant at that moment.

When I graduated in journalism, I was severely criticized by my family, who considered any profession other than the financial area to be something aimless and shameful for society.

Sad and real.

And every time I was faced with that, with that raw reality of my profession, I felt like I was going to drown in my tears.

But I had learned since I was a little girl not to cry on the outside and always let myself be flooded inside, showing any reaction of weakness was forbidden for someone like me.

So he dealt with it however he could.

I had such latent anger towards any drug dealer, that I came to gasp with hate, I couldn't believe that I would ever be able to put anything against that damn patient!

When the day was finally over, I went to the bar in front of the service, the atmosphere was friendly, I loved going there, and I could gossip with people who were not close to me about the unhealthy conditions of our trade. And while I drank something, the words came out of my mouth without me noticing, I was becoming less and less inhibited.

I don't know if I draw attention or not, I never stopped to notice it, it wasn't exactly my main focus.

It was just something that went haywire in my mind when I took a man to my apartment, usually, they left in the morning without remembering my name. And that to me was perfect, emotional involvement sucks, and it ruins what's good: sex.

Although, I didn't know what that was for a while.

Ah, I had a boyfriend one day, a major idiot, one of those who prefer to have a woman in the kitchen and not in bed. And after him... Nobody else! A void that I filled by working non-stop, maybe one day I would make my star shine, even if everything else was empty and emotionless.

I got to my apartment that night, staggering a bit, I turned on the television to watch something that was on at that moment, something comfortable just to fall asleep cuddling my cat.

Just the way my mother told me a thousand times I would end up, while she threw in my face my older brother's successful life, and the good marriage my sister had achieved with an "accidental" pregnancy.

Everyone lived in complete harmony, within this bubble of lack of knowledge and comfort.

But I, Lauren, was not like that! I wasn't born to be one more in the world, and like any self-respecting woman, I have the biggest mouth in the world to say whatever I want, whenever I want. But of course, being strong all the time had its pitfalls, and she had to overcome them.

I went through the channels without much fun, the truth is that I was looking for a background for my sleep. When I finally fell asleep, I couldn't rest, and how could I?

My mind revolved around that cursed matter! I'm sure that poor bastard was involved with the militia, and that he would kill even more people! It plagued me, would I ever get to see this bastard behind bars?

I never had a feeling of hatred, but the feeling of powerlessness in the face of money and position drove me to extreme madness!

I got up with an ache in my stomach, maybe it was hate, or the cocktails had gone down badly, and when I looked over my briefcase and saw my article lying there... I felt a chill run down my spine.

"Perhaps this is your first impotence Laren, you will have to accept it" - I thought.

But what I liked was to challenge myself, and this time it would be no different.

I confidently got ready for work, the other day was there, beautiful and full of possibilities, which I would not be able to live inside my glass box, for at least nine hours of my day, in front of a computer, for sure. They wouldn't let me investigate further when I suggested that story, I knew it would be boycotted on all sides.

Maybe I should have thought about all this shit beforehand, maybe I should keep my mouth shut a little more, maybe I should just disappear.

That's what I thought while answering my emails, my lack of ability to hide what I feel was terrible.

I went home, slept, and woke up and nothing changed.

What a fucking ostracism!

Chapter 2 - Getting to know the enemy

The other day was inevitably bad, a day where I would have to go to my parents, pretend they never told me a load of shit, and hug my arrogant brother and his sly wife, who just went on and on about how he had renovated the goddamn kitchen.

Or watching my sister's husband, a shit heir, rub her perfectly round belly.

And of course, I would sit there through this unfortunate occasion, to listen to my father say that I should get a real job.

“Writing is not a career!” he would say, while fully supporting my sister's submission to her goofy husband to achieve a social status of successful and happily married children in the family.

I was a side effect of that perfect life, the middle child who didn't thrive and blossom as she should have.

It was my mother's birthday, I bought her some perfume, I got tired of trying to give her something she might like because whatever came out of me wouldn't be good enough.



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