Chapter 2
Katarina
“Oh my god.”
I groan as I free my hair from the tight pony-tail that’s been burning my scalp all morning. I massage my poor head for a bit before washing off the thick makeup on my face and yawn.
God, I miss my bed.
I haven’t gotten enough sleep these past few days, thanks to that awful vlogger who has been spreading nasty rumors about me again. Last time, he told everyone I got fired from a show because of my terrible attitude, when in reality, my contract simply ended because I’m set to do other projects.
Now, he’s accused me of sleeping with a politician named Alfonso Cruz.
Of course, it wasn’t true.
We’ve been photographed together at multiple charity events and afterparties, but that’s about all my interactions with him. The rumor is getting out of hand, though, and it has been everywhere these past few weeks. One tabloid even claimed I might be pregnant with his baby.
It’s freaking ridiculous, really.
But what pisses me off is that my own management team won’t let me address it, saying it should be him to deny it first. Why? Because even bad publicity is publicity.
When I step out of the bathroom, the crew has already packed up and left. Only Sol, my manager, and Julian, my bodyguard, are left in the hotel suite.
“Done for today,” Sol says, knowing that’s my favorite line of hers. She barely looks at me as she keeps busy typing on her phone.
She and I have a weird relationship. She’s done a good job managing my career, I don’t deny that.
After all, no one knew my name four years ago.
She discovered me after a random post I made went viral.
It started with some modeling gigs, and now I have millions of followers on social media, and I get job offers left and right.
Three years ago, I made my acting debut, which catapulted me to even greater fame.
Still, I hate it when she forgets I’m human and that these false narratives about me feel like an injustice, even more so when I’m not allowed to defend myself.
“Do you want to have lunch with me at the poolside restaurant?” I ask.
“You go ahead. I need to meet with the publicist, see what we can do with that vlogger,” she says, frowning at her phone.
“I really can just go online and clear it myself,” I say, rummaging through my bag to find my sunglasses.
“No. He should say something about it, not you.”
“Why?” I ask despite knowing the answer. She just wants to drag it out so the media keeps talking about it.
“Because you need not speak his name or bother about this. You focus on doing your best, okay?” I sigh, knowing nothing I say will change her mind. So I put on my sunglasses, grab my bag, and leave the room.
I’m lost in thought as we make our way down the hotel lobby, Julian falling a step behind me.
“Do you want me to hunt that stupid vlogger down? I’ll find him and give him the beating of his life. That’ll straighten him up.” Julian says with a serious expression that makes me chuckle.
Bless him, he really goes above and beyond doing his job. He’s made it his mission to always make me laugh, too. Although I’m not really sure that last one was a joke because he doesn’t laugh when I do.
It’s been almost a year since Mateo hired him to be my bodyguard. When I crashed my car after being chased by the paparazzi, Mateo became even more paranoid about my safety and put Julian in charge of my security.
Since then, life has gotten a bit easier. Not because he shields me from the unwanted attention from the paparazzi, but because he became my friend in the process. Someone I can really be honest with.
“Where should I take you?” he asks, his dark brown eyes gleaming at me.
He is a good-looking man. Tall, muscular, olive skin that makes him look like he spends his days at the beach.
A literal epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.
His playful brown eyes and boyish charm make it easy to like him, too.
In fact, at one point, he went viral online after getting caught in paparazzi photos with me.
“The most handsome bodyguard in Argentina,” the posts read.
That said, he can be scary when he wants to, mostly when he’s scaring off paparazzi and rude people who try to harass me.
“I’m really hungry. Poolside restaurant? I smile at him.
“Sure thing. It’s almost happy hour now. Should we get you some margaritas? You worked hard today,” he says, putting his hand on the small of my back as he opens the door that leads to the pool area.
“That actually sounds really good right now,” I say.
“Hell yeah!” He chuckles.
As we walk towards the restaurant, I spot a familiar pair of broad shoulders and a buzzcut from across the pool.
That’s Mateo.
Feeling like I haven’t seen him in a while, since we’re both busy working, I start to smile, until I notice who he is with.
Damiano.
My ex-fake-boyfriend.
Shit. I pause for a moment, take a deep breath, and fix my hair. I walk slower, dreading the interaction.
Damiano is wearing an expensive suit as always. He has on his face a bit of a frown, but it only makes him look hotter. His long, wavy, dark-brown hair is slightly disheveled, like he’s been running his hand through it. Even so, he still looks like a GQ model on his day off.
“Otra vez este cheto.” Julian scoffs. For some reason, he’s acquired a particular disdain for Damiano in the short amount of time they’ve mingled.
“I know, they’re always together these days,” I try to act nonchalant so he doesn’t notice how bothered I am by the man’s presence.
When we’re close enough, I call Mateo’s name. Both their heads pop up to look in our direction.
Mateo smiles as soon as he sees me, but it’s replaced by a questioning frown immediately.
I shake my head. He’s already suspicious of why I’m here, just like the most ridiculously overprotective sibling in the entire world.
I hug him, ignoring Damiano.
"What are you guys doing here?" I ask.
“Lunch meeting,” Mateo says.
“Your brother likes to take me out every once in a while,” Damiano chimes in, so I don’t have a choice but to finally look at him.
Then he winks.
That flirtatious, stupid wink he does to charm everyone.
Then his gaze trails over my body with enough practiced charm to make my heart skip a beat—purely out of annoyance, of course.
Jerk.
"Oh dear—my ex-boyfriend is dating my brother? Now that’s a scandal," I say, feigning shock.
Damiano actually laughs at my casual mention of our fake-dating ruse, but it makes Mateo shake his head.
Damiano pulls out the chair beside him, and I start to take a seat when Julian says, “I’ll be at the bar.”
“No, sit with us,” I argue.
“I’m not all that hungry yet. Just call me when it’s time to go,” he says.
“You can take the rest of the day off. I’ll take her home,” Mateo says, then he nods at me before leaving. I sigh. He’s really not trying to get along with Damiano.
“What do you want to eat, dolcezza? Carbonara?” The devil asks after a beat when the server arrives.
That freaking nickname again.
He always calls me that, and it infuriates me. Not because I don’t like it, but because I hate that I love it. Even after he broke my heart, the butterflies in my stomach resurrect every time he uses it.
“Yes, just carbonara, please,” I tell the waiter and watch him leave. When I look at Damiano, he’s already watching me.
He holds my gaze, his smile openly taunting. My mouth goes instantly dry, so I shift in my seat to hide the visible impact he has. Never breaking eye contact, he takes the table napkin, unravels the cloth with a tug, and then, with the gesture of a perfect gentleman, places it carefully on my lap.
It’s only when Mateo clears his throat that we finally break eye contact. He glares at me, scolding me without saying a word, like an angry mom.
“Alfonso Cruz, is it?” Damiano drawls, but the taunting in his voice can't mask the underlying look of disgust on his face.
Ugh, not this.
“It’s none of your business,” I say and pull out my phone, trying to ignore him.
He chuckles bitterly before I hear Mateo ask, “Why can’t you just tell the media it’s not real?”
“Maybe we’re dating.” I lie to annoy both of them.
“Is that YouTuber bothering you again?” Mateo grumbles, like he didn’t even hear my lie. His eyes narrow as he stabs his fork into his steak.
“No. It’s fine, I don’t care. I don’t think people care about it anyway. What are you guys discussing that you have to meet here?” I say, trying to divert the conversation.
"The security for Damiano’s new club," Mateo clarifies.
“You know I can make the fucker disappear easily. Just say the word,” Damiano says through his teeth, not wanting to let the topic go. The playfulness in his eyes has vanished, replaced by a cold stillness that warns me exactly how much he hates these rumors about me.
I give him a look, and that’s when Mateo’s phone rings. He excuses himself and walks away.
“Why are you dating that pig?” he seethed as soon as Mateo was gone.
I take a calming breath before I respond, “Again, none of your business.”
“Is that it? Are you just bored?” he challenges, his tone edged with accusation.
“Why are you so interested in my dating life?” I snap, trying to match his energy.
This has been our cycle since the night he ended it—or whatever you call ending something that was technically 'fake.
' He claimed his feelings weren't there, yet he’s constantly in my space, his jaw tight and eyes flashing with a jealousy he has no right to feel. He acts like he hates the idea of anyone else touching me, even though he’s the one who let me go.
He stares at me for a second too long before reaching for the foot of my chair and pulling it close to him, sending it screeching loudly on the floor.
My eyes widen at him in disbelief as he smiles mockingly. He leans in so close that I can feel his breath on my lips.
"?Estás loco?" I snap.
He stares at my mouth, lips parting, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me.
Instinct takes over, just as it did during those months we pretended to be together. My breath catches, anticipation coiling in my chest as I brace myself for the imminent kiss…
He leans in…
Then he grins.
That annoying, devilish grin he does when he knows he’s gotten to me.
“You’re an asshole.” I shove his chest, and he chuckles.
"You're lying. You're not dating him." His voice is a low rumble when he speaks again, so sure of himself.
“Are you jealous?” I say to his face, mimicking his smirk.
His mouth opens, but closes just as fast as Mateo reappears. He pulls back, and I take a sip of water to make sure Mateo doesn’t notice what was going on.
The back of my neck burns as I feel him stare at me, speechless. And as impossible as it seems in this heat, the weather feels hotter. Thankfully, the waiter arrives with my food, giving me something to do. Eat.
“Finish your food, I’ll drive you home,” Mateo says.
As Mateo and Damiano talk about business, I tune out.
I sneak a peek at Damiano every once in a while to see if he feels the same effect he has on me, but he’s his usual, calm self. He doesn’t even seem to remember what he just did.
It was only me, as always.