Chapter 10
“When would I have to start?” I ask, trying my best to sound natural.
I haven’t been able to process everything he’s said yet, but I won’t act indifferent. I’m not the luckiest person in the world, so now that life is giving me an opportunity, I’ll seize it.
To be honest, I’ve been lost, not knowing which path to follow, so it seems like a dream come true—a very crazy dream because last night, unknowingly, my future boss gave me a wonderful orgasm—to have him now offering me a job.
I’ve done the math over and over again, and without the tips and with all the debts I have from my mother’s treatment, there would only be two options if I hadn’t received this offer: either find someone to help me with the rent for this tiny room—which would be practically impossible because I can barely fit here, let alone another person—or I would have to sleep in a homeless shelter every night—which would decrease my chances of getting a job, as interviewers ask for a fixed address and in those shelters, you never know if there will be a vacancy.
How do I know this? Because in the first month after my mother’s death, I slept in several of them. After paying all the expenses for the funeral, there wasn’t a penny left, and I had no choice.
People were nice enough. It was just annoying to carry my suitcase wherever I went.
I raise my head to look at the man who seems as out of place in my home as a prince shopping in a fruit market.
Yes, I know. I’m terrible with analogies, but I think you get my point.
Guillermo Caldwell-Oviedo doesn’t act as if he’s uncomfortable here, even though I’m sure he’s never entered a place even remotely like this in his life. But come to think of it, I guess a man like him wouldn’t be uncomfortable anywhere.
“Today,” he finally answers my question.
It’s not the urgency or the commanding tone in his voice that surprises me—since that first day in the cafeteria, he made it clear that he’s used to giving orders—but because suddenly all of this becomes a bit too much.
I feel like pinching myself. Just half an hour ago, I was wondering how I would manage to eat next week, and now he’s not only offering me a great-paying job but also a place to live.
“Why me?”
“Your coffee—”
“I got that part already.” I interrupt him this time because I’m not going to leave behind the life I know, no matter how poor it may be, in the blink of an eye, without being sure of what I’m stepping into.
Looking at his masculine face, I feel ashamed for even asking if there was another interest behind his offer other than just hiring me for the job.
It’s not just because we live in different worlds but also because men like him aren’t interested in simple women like me, not even for casual sex, I don’t think.
“Look, I’m just asking for an honest answer. As I said, I’ll accept your offer. I just want to understand.”
“I want to help you. Besides liking the coffee you served me, I want to help you. This place isn’t suitable for a young woman to live alone in.”
He speaks as if he were a hundred years old. I’d guess he’s in his thirties, but still, he’s a good few years older than me.
“It was the only place I could afford,” I reply without any embarrassment. I’m not ashamed of being poor. I’ve been like this forever, and I’ve never stopped being happy because of it.
“Okay. I’m not criticizing you. Just stating a fact. How much time do you need to move?”
“I have to notify my landlord.”
“Did you sign any contract?”
“No. It was all informal. It’s easier to evict tenants that way, I guess. Turnover here is high . . .”
He looks away, seeming embarrassed. “How much time, Olívia?”
“About two days . . .”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“No, meaning I won’t allow you to spend another night here.”
How can he be so annoying?
I have the response on the tip of my tongue. I’m dying to say that he doesn’t have to allow anything, until I remember that I’m talking to my future boss.
“I think I need at least two hours. I’ll have to clean the place and go to the landlord to make the final payment.”
“Forget about the cleaning. I’ll arrange for someone to take care of that. Let’s talk to your landlord first. Then, you’ll only gather your personal belongings. You won’t need everything else.”
“I’m not leaving my coffee maker behind.” I look at my beautiful coffee maker, and he follows the same path.
“I could get another one for you.”
“Thank you, but no. This one has a unique value.”
“Why is that?”
“I had to save a lot of tips to buy it. I dreamed about it for months.”
“Alright, take it.”
“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t asking for your permission to take it. It was just a heads-up.” I can see from his astonished look that he’s not used to being confronted, but I won’t let anyone control my life, no matter how rich or powerful they are.
“Are you a rebel?”
“Not usually, but just because I’m accepting your offer doesn’t mean I’m selling my soul. I’ll continue to decide what I should or shouldn’t do.”
He falls silent for a while, confusing me even more. “I feel responsible for bringing you to work for me, so I intend to look after your wellbeing.”
“Why?” I ask again.
“Can’t you simply accept being taken care of?”
“No. I want to be in charge of my own life.”
“That’s commendable, but keep in mind that I’m offering a helping hand. Will you let me be your friend, Olívia?”
What the hell is happening to me? I’m usually not so standoffish about friendships. So why does an internal alarm warn me to be cautious?
I’m not sure, but I think maybe it’s because of the physical attraction he stirs in me. Guillermo is a lot like those sexy romance novel heroes I love so much, and I don’t want to make the mistake of falling for him.
“I accept your offer of friendship, although I don’t think it’s appropriate since you’ll be my boss. I’m sorry if I seem suspicious, but I learned a lesson when I left the cafeteria.”
Guillermo gets up, and I think he’s about to leave. Strangely, I don’t want him to go yet, and I find myself saying, “I didn’t even offer you water or coffee.”
He looks at me in silence, and just when I think it was foolish to say that, he sits back down. “A coffee would be great. Then you’ll pack your things and we’ll leave.”
“I thought . . . I was going to take the bus.”
“No. As I said before, I’m taking you away from the world you know, so it seems fair to help you in the beginning.”
Nervous to the last hair, I decide I need to keep my hands busy and get up to prepare the coffee.