Chapter 8
I’m so shocked when I open the door that I can’t speak. I’m sure my mouth is gaping open like a tunnel.
My new avatar for hot nights—for the past three hot nights, to be completely honest—and also the one inadvertently responsible for my dismissal, stares back at me.
It takes me only a few seconds to become aware of how we must appear, of the differences between us, real life screaming and demanding entry into my fantasies.
I observe the impeccably tailored and clean black suit, just as sharp as the first time we met.
The stern and unfriendly face. You can almost smell the power emanating from him.
However, there’s another thing that makes my face burn, and it’s not the realization of that beautiful man just inches from my body.
He’s not looking me in the eyes now, but over my shoulder, and I have no doubt what he can see.
In my one-room space, he wouldn’t take more than a minute to inspect the entire area.
The small bed in one corner.
An open coat rack with the only two coats I own.
My suitcase, which also serves as a dresser, a portable electric stove, some groceries, and the only truly luxurious item I own: my beloved De’Longhi coffee maker, which I saved up tips for over three months to buy and gave myself as a belated birthday present.
Oh, I can’t forget my well-worn books, read so many times they’re practically falling apart.
I really wanted to buy a Kindle so I could get free novels on , because even though I don’t have internet at home, the café did. But that’s just another project to be postponed. After losing my job, I need to save every penny to get by and pay the rent.
“Olívia.”
My cheeks are now truly burning as I understand that this is real. The man with the billionaire politician look is at my doorstep.
“What are you doing here, sir?” I don’t want to be rude, but right now there are so many different things running through my mind that I can’t sort them out. Unfortunately, none of them are very pleasant to think about.
I wonder whether he might have come to say he left the tip by mistake and, as Thomas said, really felt ripped off, or worse. Maybe he wants something in return for the money, although he doesn’t seem like that kind of man.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“No.”
His eyebrow rises, and I wonder if he’s ever heard a ‘no’ in his life. “Why not?”
“Sorry if I’m being rude, but serving you at the café doesn’t make you my friend, and I don’t let customers into my house. I don’t even know your name.”
His eyes widen in surprise, but he recovers quickly. “You’re right. You shouldn’t let just anyone in.” He speaks as if he’s patting a child on the back, which annoys me. “My name is Guillermo Caldwell-Oviedo. I have a job offer for you,” he says, without reaching out to shake my hand.
I’m shocked not only by the surname but also by what he just said. The Caldwell-Oviedos are practically American royalty, although I only know the faces of two of them: the golfer, Rafe Caldwell-Oviedo, and the actor, Gael.
What kind of proposal could a man from a family like his have for me?
I analyze him again without reaching a conclusion.
I may be inexperienced, but I’m not stupid. My mother taught me very well to be cautious when alone with a man.
At the café, I felt relaxed because I thought no one would try to force anything on me—which turned out to be a mistake after Thomas’s attack—but here at home it’s different. He’s a total stranger, and this is my territory.
“What kind of proposal?” I ask, suspicious.
“Invite me in.”
“I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“Olívia, I’ve come here to help you. You can trust me.”
More than the words themselves, it’s what I see in his eyes that seals the deal.
Despite the obvious aura of wealth, and even though he can be quite intimidating even when speaking softly, I don’t feel threatened by the man I now know as Guillermo. Still, I don’t see a single reason for him to come looking for me.
“Are you offering me a job?”
“I heard you lost your position at the café,” he begins. “The coffee you served me that day impressed me a lot. I would like you to come work for me. Your coffee has a unique flavor.”
“As some kind of maid?”
“No, as an assistant. A jack-of-all-trades in my office, and maybe also for some tasks outside of it.”
“And does that include making your coffee?”
He nods, agreeing. The man rattles off all the information at once, as if discussing the menu for his next lunch, not talking about a nobody like me being invited to work for a Caldwell-Oviedo.
“If this is some kind of sick joke, I’m not in the mood,” I blurt out. “How can I be sure you are who you say you are?”
Seemingly irritated for the first time since he arrived, he searches for something in the inner pocket of his coat, and I see him pull out a business card from inside a small black leather wallet.
Awkwardly, I take it from his hand when he offers it and quickly check the name.
Guillermo Caldwell-Oviedo.
“I don’t know what to think.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Sir, these things don’t happen in real life.”
“Can we talk inside?” he asks for the third time, and I suspect he’s done that more times today than in his entire life. Guillermo seems like the kind of man people obey with just a glance.
I finally relent, stepping aside. “Yes.”
As I close the door, I gesture for him to sit in the only available chair. I go to my bed and put as much distance between us as the small room allows, settling in as well.
“What doesn’t happen in real life?”
“Huh?”
“You said these things don’t happen in real life.”
I twist my hands in my lap. “Sir, if you’re here, you must already know the reason I was fired.
Yet here you are, offering me a job. Fairy godmothers don’t just show up at my door and solve my problems.” As soon as I finish speaking the words, I want to die.
Nothing could be less like Guillermo than a fairy.
The man has mesmerizing strength and masculinity.
There’s not an ounce of softness in his body.
I look up, afraid I’ve said too much. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Surprisingly, his face is more relaxed. “I’m not offended, even though I’ve never been called by such a nickname,” he says. “How long have you been living here?” He changes the subject, catching me off-guard.
“I won’t say anything about my life until you properly explain this proposal.”
“Fair. I want to hire you. And I need you to start working for me immediately.”