11. My Heart. My Heart.
The Lamborghini man sat in front of Marti in a corner of the cafe. Their drinks stood before them. A pianist played in the opposite corner.
“You used to challenge me seriously. Now I'm serious, I even divorced my wife for you. But now, you're not serious."
"No one has ever been serious about me so far."
”I’m serious.”
"How serious?"
"Getting married. What could be more serious than that?”
"Why do you want to marry me?"
"What is this question? Why do you still have to ask again?”
"Well, you want to marry me right? Why can't I ask?"
"Should I say 'I love you,' like in the soap operas?"
"Answer however you want. OK, I'm a professional. I’ll consider whatever I give you.”
"Well, I want to marry you because I love you."
Marti took a sip of her margarita, blurring the rim of the glass with her lipstick. Just looking at her lipstick on the glass made the Lambhorgini man felt hot and cold.
"Not because you want anything for free?"
"You are crazy! You want your name listed on all my companies. Is that it? You want half of my entire wealth?”
"Half? You will call me your wife."
"Well. All that’s mine is yours, too. Satisfied? Now, when are we getting married?”
"When? Did I say yes?”
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"You don't want to marry me?" The Lambhorgini man asked with passion.
Marti leaned back, looked up. She closed her eyes, thinking.
"Wait a moment. Wait a moment."
"You haven't decided yet?"
"I told you, I'm a professional. I have to take everything into account.”
“What else do you need to take into account? In terms of income, it is clear that you have nothing to lose. Even more. Now, you will not just have a car, a house with a swimming pool, and a villa. You will also have a bank, a garment company, a farm, a plantation, a forest concession area. Not to mention a car assembly factory, waste treatment companies, and a super mall. Well, what else is missing?”
Marti pointed to her chest.
"My heart. My heart."
"Your heart? You're a professional, aren't you? You just think about loss of profit.”
Marti stared at the man, lit a cigarette, exhaled smoke.
“Even a professional has a heart.”
"So you're not going to make a decision now?"
Marti shook her head, taking another sip of her drink.
”Why? ”
”Because I don’t love you.”
The man looked surprised, but held back his feelings.
“I'm a professional,” Marti said. “I sell my body, but I don't sell my heart. Are we going upstairs now? I have to be in Singapore tomorrow morning."
This article was translated by Hyginus Hardoyo.
