“Okay, just tell me when you get here so I can open the garage door.” Slowly rising out of my bed with a groan, I snatch my laptop and a highlighter, making my way out the door as she proceeds to speak into the phone.
“Okay. But before you hang up, I have something to tell you.” Lauren pauses, as I am skipping slowly down the steps.
Then a statement I thought I would never hear flies out of her mouth. “Luca Donatello is coming to your house right now to discuss your pending contract.” I stop dead in my tracks.
“What?!?” Just as those words come out of my mouth a knock is heard at the front door.
Shit.
ChapterFour
Maria Alejandra
Iwatch in shock from my place on the stairs as Nieves walks into the living room. She looks up at me as I peer down at her.
“¿Quien lo dejó entrar?”She doesn’t even take a second to respond.
“Yo señorita, tú me dijiste que ibas a tener unas personas de tú trabajo y me dijeron que un trabajador de Elektra estaba abajo.”
Nodding, I go to open my front door. As I walk through the main entrance area, the sleek white lighting beams down on the gray concrete slit in the wall. The slit is about 12 inches wide creating a curve with enough space to place a few items inside. I have a few things placed neatly along the opening, mostly trinkets that I have accumulated over my years of traveling. I own a few Mayan and Aztec artifacts that I won in an auction, as well as some traditional indigenous South American tablets.
As a history freak, it was a no brainer on my part. All I can remember from my childhood was the idea of the history of my homeland. Every year during the Mexican Grand Prix, I take a trip around Mexico to see the historical sights again. Being able to learn my own culture and the history of others is a privilege. The fact that you can retrace the steps of some of the most important events in our history is enthralling and provides a sense of adrenaline.
Continuing down the hall toward the door, I turn the black lock, reach for the doorknob and turn it slowly.
As the door passes my view, it folds towards the wall, and I’m met with hazel eyes. My breath catches as I try to form a sentence.
Reaching out my hand to shake his, I say, “Hi, I’m Maria Alejandra, it’s nice to meet you.” I smile and give a friendly nod. He returns the gesture with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, signifying that it isn’t genuine. I don’t really care if it’s genuine or not, as long as he isn’t a dickwad.
“Hello, Miss Castillo, I have heard great things.” His tight lipped smile still plastered on his face and even though its emotion is nowhere to be found, it still takes over his face. His thick Italian accent is prominent in every syllable of his pronunciation.
I drop my eyes, trailing my gaze anywhere else but to his stare. To say that he’s beautiful would be an understatement. His face is rugged, with stubble adorning his jaw. His jawline is sharp; it clenches while he’s looking me up and down, which I don’t like, despite him being gorgeous. But I can’t complain, I’m checking him out too.
He places his sunglasses in his hands, his fingers clenching around them. His tall frame is styled with perfectly tailored Hugo Boss hugging every single muscle and crevice.
A black sweater graces every muscle on his chest and his thick thighs strain against the slacks he’s wearing. It’s a weird combination, but it works very well on him. A little too well. God definitely took his time on him. I look up as he looks behind me, expressing his demand to enter my apartment.
I move to the side, welcoming him into my home, and as he passes, I see his watch. It’s a DATEJUST 36 Rolex. It’s what a man with expensive taste would wear, which fits exquisitely with his facade.
Not only do I know he probably has a whole collection of them in his closet, but I also know that this man makes bank. Which I don’t doubt, not even for a second.
Walking down the hall, I trail slowly behind him as he takes in his surroundings. So far, my first impression is that he doesn’t have the best manners. He didn’t introduce himself, but he also walked past me like a damn bullet, walking into my home acting like he owns the place. He knows who he is, that much is clear.
Following him further through my apartment, I examine his backside. I don’t like the man, but his butt is really nice. It’s literally like a melo—
Alejandra, stop!
“Your apartment is very sleek. I like how untraditional it is.” His compliment shocks me. Because I was not expecting a comment, much less a compliment to come out of his mouth.
Well, at least I think it’s a compliment.
“Thank you, I designed the layouts myself.” He turns around and just stares at me.
What’s his problem?
I literally just met the man, and I already know I don’t like him. I shoot him a questioning look, trying to say, “what are you staring at?”
“I know I came last minute, but that sweatshirt isn’t my idea of a way to meet your new boss.”