It took Olivia some time to reboot herself, and when she did, Sylvester glared at her impatiently.
Her anger spiked but then collapsed right back into despair. Within minutes of their argument, she felt herself go through all stages of grief.
She staggered backwards, nearly stumbling down, which was ruthlessly ignored by Sylvester.
This bastard… didn't love; he just played games.
"So what do I…" she whispered incoherently.
What now? She couldn't make head or tail of what she felt. This bedazzling feeling that came with the understanding that all hope was lost… this hollowness… devastation...
"You'd have to leave." Sylvester's words snapped her out of her daze.
"I'll also be getting a restraining order so that the next time you try something stupid like this, you'll take a timeout in jail cooling off."
"Ah…"
Having spoken his last words, Olivia watched as the black shoes spun around, ready to leave.
Then what…? She'd just have to suck it up? The lies? The treachery? The absolution of her human pride?
The… maddening love she still had for him?
No fucking way!
"Sylvester!" Indifferent as he was, he blatantly ignored her as security closed in. "I will tell them everything! I'll have you destroyed! Contract? NDA?! What's that?? I'll ruin you then go to jail! Turn back now, Sylvester, you better…"
She grinned crazily, "...Come back to me, or I'll make sure to ruin you!"
The male paused and, with a spin, smiled an expression sweeter than cotton candy but more poisonous than nightshade.
"Go ahead."
"You—!"
With that, Olivia was swept out of the Stallone household, and everyone knew peace.
***
Clink!
A beautiful silver watch slid across the glass table, and with a loud sigh, its owner slumped into a wide sofa.
Sylvester reached into his pocket to access his phone, and with a bit of clicking, a video recording soon emerged on his screen.
Within it was a sleeping male curled up flexibly like a fetus in its mother's womb. Behind him was an open book lying on its front, and before him was a charging phone.
A small smile filtered across Sylvester's face, and the video was soon turned off. What a pity… He had wanted to have lunch with him to wash off the infuriating feeling that clung to him, but far be it from him to intrude.
"I should give him those chocolates when he wakes up."
After a few seconds of rest, Sylvester stood up.
His firm hands made their way to his buttons, slowly and leisurely undressing as his mind drifted to Olivia.
This wasn't the first time, and most probably wouldn't be the last.
The worst part of this ridiculous play was how fast it staled—the excitement, that is. The hollowness that came after was triple the amount of joy he gained.
If there was one thing he came to realize from this boring play, it was that humans were more similar than they believed they were.
Each to his own, and yet everyone was the same.
"It started with freedom wrapped with exclusivity," he muttered lifelessly.
'And then acceptance. Then came provision, which they all equally fell for… Before love.'
He carefully placed his jacket on the glass table before making his way to his shirt.
At the end of the day, once they fell for him, he distanced himself—enjoying the fleeting yet ravishing joy of being sought but not being found.
And then it went stale—more bitter and disgusting than the joy he once had. Then he'd break up with them and savor faintly the desperation of their pleas.
But Olivia… that proud fuck dragged it out for far too long. Now he was annoyed, and she'd pay dearly for it.
At least she served as confirmation of his most recent consideration. Indeed, he needed a break from all this nonsense.
Soon his shirt was off, followed by his belt, and with a zilt his trousers slid down, revealing a dark pair of boxers which clung loosely to his lower hips, showcasing his well-toned mermaid lines.
He picked up his phone, alerting the butler to have his meal served in the penthouse dining room before leaving with his clothes.
After a neat placement of his clothes, he walked into his bathroom, slid into the water-filled large bathtub, and with his large figure fully encompassed, he drifted off to a peaceful rest.
***
Days came and went after the explosive argument with his rather obsessive ex, and Sylvester, having confirmed his free schedule, pondered if he should throw a party, make an official introduction of Vale to high society, and finally begin his socialization.
During those days, nothing in particular happened except breakfast, lunch, and dinner became a daily occurrence between the two of them, and sometimes Vale would approach him to talk about the books he read.
Though most of their associations were watching movies together, which ended with a discussion session, Sylvester couldn't help but admit he enjoyed it very much. Sometimes, Vale initiated their hangouts on his own and spent the time talking about his newest read.
At first, Sylvester wasn't interested and merely humored him, but with time, he found the talk time becoming more and more interesting, so much so that they did it more than watching movies.
That was when Sylvester noticed that Vale had grasped his favorite tropes and centered all discussions around them. It was quite a marvelous discovery, especially since he could have sworn he had no favorites and simply watched whatever interested him—only to be proven wrong by Vale's incredible observation skills.
His goal had been to at least familiarize Vale with socialization with one person before moving on to the outside world, only to realize that when it came to the art, Vale was beyond a genius—he was a monster.
He was perfectly versed in the art of socialization that even Sylvester didn't realize when he genuinely started having more fun spending time with him rather than for the sake of socialization.
Then he introduced him to his workers and realized he crashed whenever it wasn't him—or to be exact, whenever it wasn't a fork.
But since he hadn't yet confirmed the fork aspect, he decided to believe it was only him he could associate with… for completely logical reasons!
After much contemplation, he decided to talk with Vale.
"You want me to be more sociable with them?" Vale spoke with a questioning gaze.
Sylvester sighed, "I know it'll be dif—"
"It won't be," Vale cut him off with his reply before beaming him a cute smile. "If that's what you truly want, I'll do it."
Sylvester was a bit confused but waved it off as Vale trying to please him by making baseless claims. He did that a lot... always wanting to please him, that is.
And so he laughed playfully, "I'd love that."
It only took him three days to understand that Vale was anything but joking.
After their discussion, he disappeared into the first floor, and when he returned the next couple of days, he had memorized all the names of the workers, already had piles of stories about the short time they had spent together, and had everyone who came to serve Sylvester with a stiff attitude relax with noticeable cheerfulness whenever they caught sight of him.
Sylvester was stumped. What faulty?! The rehabilitation center were horrible liars! This man was even better than him at socialization!
This served as a confirmation that Vale was indeed ready for introduction to high society, and so in less than three weeks after his arrival, Sylvester readied him for the main lessons.
The day was fast approaching, but just as it was about to arrive, Olivia fulfilled her threat in a most drastic manner.