Chapter Seven
Mikkel
“You don’t love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear.”
~ Oscar Wilde
B y the time I wrapped up at the office—confirming fleet checks and schedules, finalizing the start date for Alex’s new driver, and completing three back-to-back interviews with The New York Times , The Washington Post , and USA Today —I was ready to call it a day. But Dillon and Arnoldo had other plans, dragging me to a tech seminar at the Park Avenue Armory.
The moment we stepped inside, chaos erupted. Cameras flashed in relentless bursts, microphones shoved into our space as reporters shouted over each other for a comment. The air buzzed with desperation—like a feeding frenzy, each journalist trying to sink their teeth into the next big headline .
Arnoldo and I exchanged a glance. Unspoken agreement. We sidestepped, letting Dillon bask in the attention.
He thrived on this. Always had. My friends loved the glitz, the spectacle, the constant spotlight. I tolerated it. Avoided it when I could. Perfectionism made me my own worst critic, and the fear of saying the wrong thing—the wrong anything—kept me steering clear of the press. But escaping the spotlight was never truly an option.
“You’re practically hanging on the reporter’s every word,” I murmured to Arnoldo, watching the gleam in his eye.
“She’s good-looking,” he replied with an easy shrug, voice rich with indifference. “That’s all.”
I rolled my eyes. Right. Like it was ever just that with him.
Arnoldo’s reputation wasn’t just well-earned—it was legendary. Women gravitated toward him like moths to a flame, and he basked in their attention without hesitation or apology. It was an art form to him, one he’d perfected with alarming precision.
“Do you ever not think about sleeping with women?” I asked, only half-joking.
He shook his head, expression mock-serious. “All the time.”
I huffed a laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”
His eyes widened in exaggerated shock, lips forming an amused ‘O’ before shifting his attention back to the reporter. The way she blushed under his gaze, the coy smile playing at her lips—it didn’t take a genius to figure out they’d already hooked up.
Dillon wrapped up his interview just as Arnoldo made his move. One hand on the small of her back, a few murmured words in her ear, and just like that, she was grinning like she’d won the lottery.
“He’s definitely fucked her,” Dillon muttered.
I didn’t disagree.
Arnoldo returned with a smug grin—one Dillon and I had seen a thousand times before. We exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the routine.
“You really have a way with the press, don’t you?” Dillon drawled, amusement flickering in his tone .
Arnoldo shrugged, unbothered. “Comes with the territory, Xander.”
Dillon smirked before I threw in a jab. “Manwhore.”
Arnoldo smirked. “At least I’m not alone.”
“Does sleeping around count as having company?” I quipped.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, then leaned in like he was about to share something profound. “And for the record, I don’t sleep around. I can admire a woman without wanting to fuck her.”
Dillon snorted. “That’s a first, and at least we don’t have to worry about catching anything.”
Arnoldo scoffed. “First of all, I get tested every three months. Second, I never go without protection. And third—” He pointed between us. “Both of you are single. Lucio and Alex are the only ones taken.”
“And Bryce,” Dillon added just to push his buttons.
Arnoldo groaned, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s barely our friend.”
Feigning innocence, I asked, “Why do you hate Bryce again?”
He exhaled sharply. “He’s reckless in business and, worse, ungrateful. What rich man complains as much as he does?”
“He’ll always be a distant friend,” I said, attempting to lighten the tension.
Arnoldo shook his head. “Let’s not forget he cheated on my former law student with the girl he’s now engaged to. And I know he’s cheating on her too.”
Dillon raised a brow. “Law student?”
Arnoldo smirked. “You don’t know your friend as well as you think.”
I leaned back, recalling something. “He had a thing for my sister last year.”
Arnoldo’s expression flickered—just for a second. The smugness faded, his face going a shade paler. “He had a what?”
I watched him, noticing how the mention actually seemed to bother him. Not just irritation—something deeper. But I didn’t think much of it.
Arnoldo pretty much hated everything Bryce did.
Dillon, ever the pragmatist, shrugged. “As long as Bryce doesn’t screw up a business deal tied to any of our empires, I couldn’t care less.”
Arnoldo and I exchanged a glance and nodded. “Fair enough. ”
But just as quickly, Arnoldo’s attention drifted—his gaze locking onto the journalist again, lingering without shame.
Dillon chuckled, shaking his head. “I cannot wait for the day you fall flat on your ass in love, Reyes.”
Arnoldo adjusted his jacket with a smirk, confidence unshaken. “Very low chance of that happening.”
I was about to throw in my own jab when a flash of red curls near the bathroom caught my eye.
The color and volume seemed different, but maybe she’d changed it. My pulse kicked up—a sharp mix of hope and nerves tangling together.
“I’ll be back,” I muttered, already moving before they could ask questions.
As I closed the distance, anticipation crackled through me like a live wire. If she was here, this would be the fourth time our paths had crossed—and this time, I wouldn’t let her slip away without learning her name.
“Hey there,” I greeted, keeping my tone easy.
She turned.
And my breath caught—for all of one second before realization hit.
Not her.
Fuck me.
“Oh, I—I’m sorry,” I stammered, heat creeping up my neck. “I thought you were someone else.”
She let out a warm laugh, amused rather than offended. “No worries.”
A relieved chuckle escaped me, and we shared a brief nod before parting ways.
I rejoined Dillon and Arnoldo just as their debate over Arnoldo’s nonexistent love life reignited. The conversation only paused when the seminar shifted to awarding scholarships, then picked up again once the formalities were over.
By the end of the day, we had celebrated with the recipients, participated in a panel discussion, and capped it off by writing additional $20,000 checks to further support the program.
“Let’s get out of here,” Dillon said as we walked to the parking lot.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I glanced at Arnoldo. “Home or your office, Reyes? ”
“My office,” he replied. “I need to go over a case with Melissa for tomorrow.”
Dillon leaned back in his seat. “Equinox for me.”
That caught me off guard. He rarely went there—too many memories of his grandfather. I didn’t push, just nodded and drove in silence, respecting whatever was on his mind.
We barely made it past the receptionist’s desk before chaos erupted. Raised voices. An argument unfolding.
Wait.
Holy shit.
“Isn’t that yo—”
“My assistant,” Dillon cut in, irritation lacing his voice. “I’ll be back.”
As he strode toward the commotion, my phone pinged—a flight reminder. I took the opportunity to check in with my sister.
Me: Have you booked the ticket for you and Eli yet?
Emilia Suarez (Hermana): Elijah isn’t coming. He’s staying with Ashley. Book mine, I’ll pay you back.
Me: Send me your passport.
Emilia Suarez (Hermana): You’re the best big brother when you feel like it.
Me: Te amo también. 8
I shut off my phone just as Dillon approached, a too-cheerful grin on his face.
“Mikkel, let’s go,” he called out, voice light, almost too upbeat.
I frowned. “Weren’t we checking upstairs?”
He waved off my concern. “I’ve seen and done all I needed to.”
We headed to the car, and as soon as we settled in, he let out a deep, relieved sigh.
“I got the girl,” he announced, satisfaction dripping from every word.
I raised a brow. “Got the girl?”
“Azzaria,” he clarified, eyes twinkling. “My intern.”
I shot him a knowing look. “Don’t screw it up.”
Dillon’s grin didn’t waver. “I won’t.”
I studied him for a beat. “How do you feel about it?”
His expression softened, but the gleam of triumph remained. “Accomplished. You wouldn’t believe how damn hard it was just to get her to talk to me.”
I smirked. “Sounds perfect for you. You thrive on challenges.”
“For sure.” His voice brimmed with satisfaction—like, for once, everything in his world had lined up just right.
Switching gears, I mentioned, “I’ll be out for about two weeks starting Friday.”
Dillon turned to me. “Where to?”
“Sacramento. My cousin’s engagement party. Then Chicago for an investor meeting.”
His face lit up. “Investor meeting? That’s huge!” He leaned back, grinning. “I told you from day one that your business would take off. You’ve worked your ass off for this, Suarez.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s not just me. I’ve got a great team. Now, I need these investors to see that.”
“What’s the pitch?”
“Expansion. I want them to see the potential in other cities. We’re changing the way people think about transportation.”
“Morison or Sapphire going with you?”
“Neither. Just Emilia and me for the engagement party.”
Dillon nodded. “Good luck with the meeting, and send my best to your parents.”
“Will do.”
He gave me a firm nod. “You’ve got this, man.”
And for the first time in a while, I actually believed it.