The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon)

Chapter 19

The Art Of Revenge

Brandon’s Pov

I pretended not to hear her yelling, “What’s wrong with you? Learn to respect women!” She kept yelling,

she was so uncomfortable and on the verge of panicking.

“I merely came to make sure you didn’t use my towel,” I explained as I took the towel from the corner

and began rolling it out.

Her expression of disbelief was priceless. To be honest, I kind of enjoyed bullying her, she was like a

little sister that I never had. I wheeled myself out of the bathroom but before I could disappear, she

called;

“Brandon Brandon!,”

I rolled in with a smirk on my face

“How am I supposed to dry myself?” she asked.

“Oooh, I’ll fetch you your towel,” I murmured, a grin on my face as I wheeled myself out. I was

disappointed, somehow I expected her to be in the shower and not the tub but it was fine. I grabbed her

a new towel.

The second time I knocked, and she told me to throw it in, which I did as I rolled back to the bedroom,

convinced she was breathing fire while bathing.

She was out with a scrubbing brush in minutes, yelling at me, “What did I say about the rules!”

“I’d like to see the sunset,” I said, oblivious to her question.

“Brandon, no. Respect me as a lady in this house; I require my privacy,” she cried out.

“I forgot you were bathing; my illness causes me to lose track of time,” I lied. I asked in a serious tone

as I wheeled myself out, “Can you dress up, I want to watch the sunset. I’ll be waiting for you outside,

so you can enjoy your solitude.”

I went out of the room after adding. I could tell she was pondering whether or not to believe me. I

began counting down on my watch, and she was out, enraged, in ten minutes. And without saying

anything, she led the way to the beach. From NôvelDrama.Org.

“Thalia, I didn’t notice your vaginal area,” I stated as I followed her.

She finally said, “I thought you wanted to nap.”

“As soon as I lay down on the bed, my back started paining,” I explained. She locked her gaze on me

and drew closer as if she was going to slap me in the face. I swayed but she placed her hand on the

side of my cheek.

Her hands were so gentle as if she had never carried a hefty object before. “Brandon, your temperature

is high, how are you feeling? Where is your medication?” she asked.

I considered telling her she was my new medication, but I decided against it. I had already spoo ked

her enough with my prying eyes. I had noticed how when she was around I forgot I was doomed to die.

I cleared my throat and said, “I don’t take any medications since, as we all know, the medicine causes

another ailment.”

“But what exactly were those tablets I discovered on the floor?”

“Pain reliever,” I replied.

“Brandon, oh my Go d! I’m so sorry,” she said. From being mad at me just a second before, she was all

caring and concerned, “what should I do, what do you do when the temperature rises?” she inquired.

“Take me to the water,” I ordered and told her to relax; it was all normal for my temperature to shoot up

all of a sudden; I had grown accustomed to my melancholy disease. We were at the beach, and I got

up and walked to the water with her help. “What are you up to, Brandon?” she inquired.

“Simply dipping my toes in the icy water allows me to unwind,” I said, but instead of standing on the

water, I sat down, enjoying the small waves crashing against me. As I gritted my teeth and waited for

the episode to end, the cold wind also provided a shield.

“Brandon?” She spoke in hushed tones and attempted to touch me, but I stopped her. I was quiet, my

muscles felt as though they were being stretched with a pressing iron. “No,” I answered, oblivious to

the fact that she was standing next to me.

She could see that I was in pain, she sat down on the water and did not mind that she was going to be

soaked. I slid my head over her thighs without permission and told her to pour water on my back.

“Oh, now I get it,” she said as she realized why I had entered the bathroom.

“I would have let you in the tab if you had explained yourself,” she remarked.

I grinned, “You wouldn’t, you were naked,” I replied.

“What’s so difficult about you simply asking politely? I would have put something on,” she stated.

“You’re causing a ruckus, Thalia.” I closed my eyes and said, “I’m going to take a nap.” I couldn’t tell if it

was the cold water or the soft thighs lowering my temperature. I called out her name.

“Yes,” she replied.

“We have exactly twenty-seven days until our meeting tomorrow, so please promise you won’t be

nervous,” I said.

She said, “I…will do my best.” But her voice was not convincing. As she continued to slam me with the

cold water, I shrugged and drifted off. It was already dark when I awoke, and we were being battered

by large waves, and she was sound asleep as she rested her head on my back.

“Thalia Thalia?” I called as I pushed my head from her lovely thighs. She jerked awake, her eyes

darting around as if she’d seen a ghost.

“It’s time to get up, it’s getting dark.” As I stood up, I told her to carry my wheelchair for me. I felt OK, so

I relied on my legs. She pushed the wheelchair behind me and didn’t complain.

Inside, she offered to cook me a delicious meal, but I declined and went directly to bed with my tablet. I

needed to be aware of Josh’s and his father’s every move. She returned in half an hour with lasagna

that landed squarely on my nose.

She set the dish in front of me, crossed her knees, and dove in, just like breakfast.

“Please refrain from making any amusing noises,” I warned her.

“If you do not join me, I will,” she said.

I didn’t want to cross the line, so I said nothing, knowing that if things became heated, I’d send her

running. I took a small mouthful and waited for something to happen, but nothing did.

The woman in front of me was either a witch or an angel sent from hell to fatten me up for the hereafter.

I took another scope, then another, and by the time I looked at the plate, everything had vanished.

“When am I going to get a thank you?” she began clapping excitedly.

“In your dreams,” I replied.

“Jerk!” she replied.

“Thank you,” I said as she walked out the kitchen door with the dishes. I put the finishing touches on

tomorrow’s project and called it a night. Even though I had napped for a few hours, I was exhausted.

I had already reclaimed the bed by the time she returned, she was going to sleep on the couch until

she felt comfortable with me.

As I awoke, I found the couch deserted, my heart began beating for no apparent reason. However, the

door opened, and she entered wearing a tight latex pencil skirt that exposed every curve of her body.

She wore it with a white cross crix blouse that revealed her exquisite breasts pressing against each

other forming the most stunning cleavage I’ve ever seen.

Her hair was pulled back, displaying her lovely face, which she had always hidden behind a veil of

misery. I was so taken aback by her beauty that I merely glanced at her when she opened her lips and

murmured something. I could only look at her with my dry cracked lips open.

She smashed her hands together forcefully, jolting me out of an R-rated vision that had begun to shape

in my mind.

“I got up early and finished my final touches,” she remarked, before going over what I taught her the

day before. To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention at all, and I had to pinch myself to get my bearings.

Crossing the line was the last thing any of us wanted to do. I had no trouble admiring her physical

features because I was always a first-mover, eat-and-run type of person who wasn’t emotionally

invested.

But it seemed to me that I had begun to look past her outward looks. I reminded myself of the elderly-

looking Thalia I met on the bridge with her hideous sweater.

It was probably for the best because I was dying, and putting my heart into a last-minute love affair was

a formula for disaster. It was not fair to both of us, even if she linked me, I would only shatter her heart

with my death taking her back to her suicide.

“You look dreadful,” I said and stepped back.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling.

I hurriedly grabbed my phone and dialed my pilot. The main office was located in the big city and

traveling by helicopter was the only option. She remained silent and began staring at me with her big

brown eyes.

I suppose she was sad that I didn’t pass on my per vert remarks. But now was the moment to take

things seriously. I pulled a listening device from my suitcase and requested her to approach closer to

me while I carefully placed the wire under her shirt and connected it to a transparent cable that ran to

her ears.

She kept her gaze fixed on me the entire time, while I avoided making direct eye contact.

“Everything is in place,” I said something in my little microphone, and she clamped her eyes shut,

indicating that I was too loud. “All you have to do is follow my instructions and you’ll be OK,” I said, to

which she accepted with a simple nod.

“Where is my breakfast, by the way?” I inquired.

She grinned and walked into the kitchen, bringing a dish of pancakes, syrup, and juice with her. She

said, “You may have this,” and placed it on the table.

I double-checked that her earpiece was in working order; she needed to be the first person in the

meeting, which would give her more confidence than being the last.

I informed my pilot she was ready, and he arrived to pick her up. She waved goodbye, but I simply

nodded. I observed a tinge of disappointment on her face, but I ignored it and went to the table to eat

my breakfast while waiting for her to arrive at the office.

I took one bite of the pancake and everything appeared to be fine for a minute, nothing was coming up

but when I tried again, my entire intestines tightened up, as if two people were pushing from different

ends.

After a few minutes, I felt waves all the way up to my throat. I tried to sprint to the bathroom, but my

legs gave up on me, and all the pancakes and lasagna from the night before landed on the floor.

My chest squeezed and clots began to come out of my mouth and nostrils after my digestive system

had given up. Unlike most days when I simply threw up, they kept coming out with every cough and

lasted an eternity.

By the time the episode ended and I got my breath, I was very weary and had lost all of my strength.

My head began spinning and I felt like the room was moving in circles.

I tried to get up but I was pulled down by an unknown force. My body felt heavy as if I had swallowed a

stone, slowly I landed on my vomit, “Thalia,” I said as l lost consciousness.