“Your father? I have no idea.”
“My question was rhetorical.”
“I assumed that,” he says, a smile lining his voice.
“What about the sexual assault?” I murmur.
“That happened after the divorce.”
“He assaulted his ex?”
“No. Other people. The man likes to party hard. Among other things…”
My hand sweats around my phone.
“There were two instances,” he continues. “One in Florida. In Miami, in fact. And the other one was in New York. He got the same great lawyers, and the claims were settled outside court.”
He pauses.
“Huh… All right. Thank you for your swift response.”
We end the call, and I set my phone on the nightstand.
It’s way past midnight, and I can’t sleep.
I order room service and spend some time eating and drinking coffee when a soft knock on the door drags my attention to the entrance.
“It’s open.”
Alejandro walks in. He wears dark boxers and a black slim-fit T-shirt.
His eyes go to the food.
“What’s up?” I mumble around my food.
“I thought you couldn’t sleep.”
“You thought correctly. What brings you here?”
He picks up a croissant and wolfs it down.
“There’s more,” I say, pointing to the food tray.
“I thought I saw Francisco. Was he here?”
“No.”
I swallow.
“Where did you see him?”
“On the corridor.”
“What were you doing there?”
“I wanted to go to the gym.”
“At two o’clock in the morning.”