2. Santiago
SANTIAGO
Riding the bus and waiting for it to arrive at my station, I watched a boxing match from last night’s championship.
Both fighters were great, but not better than me.
If only I were just being cocky or delusional…
but I wasn’t. The truth was that instead of being in those matches myself, winning belts and titles, I had to watch them on a cracked screen while squeezed into the back of the bus like a complete loser.
But knowing there were worse things to lose in life than a dream, I pushed the thought aside and went on.
After all, there was no point in crying over spilled milk when you never had money for the milk to begin with.
And just like I’d promised myself when I got out, things would be different this time around.
I got a second chance, a new beginning, and I wouldn’t let my bad temper and shitty past mess with it, not when Nacio counted on me.
And not just him, but Papá and Mamá. Just in case they were watching from the sky, I wanted to make sure they were proud.
The bus stopped at my station, and I checked the time to see that there were about thirty minutes left before my interview.
Sweet.
Feeling lucky for a change, I shoved my phone in my pocket and was ready to get off the bus with the rest of the passengers when someone bumped into me. Next thing I knew, cold coffee was spilled all over me, drenching my shirt and fucking suit.
My eyes widened, my pulse quickened with rage as I watched the asshole who spilled it on me getting off the bus, not even stopping to apologize, as he was too busy speaking on the phone like he was some big shot. Well, if he were, I bet he wouldn’t take the bus, would he?
“Hey!” I called as I followed him out.
The moron gave me the courtesy of turning to glance my way.
“What?” he snarled, the phone still pressed to his ear.
“You spilled your coffee all over me!” I barked.
The idiot checked me over with a scrunched-up nose, and the way he took his sweet time had me this close to shoving his phone up his ass.
“You bumped into me.”
My jaw just about dropped, the vein in my neck bulging.
“No, I didn’t.” I took a step closer, fist clenched tightly.
Rolling his eyes, he sighed. “Fine, want me to pay for the dry cleaning? What will it be, ten, twenty bucks?”
The way he suggested it, with a condescending smile and judgmental eyes, made my blood boil. I wasn’t ashamed of being poor, and I wasn’t about to let an asshole like this, who rode the same fucking bus as I did, make me feel small.
“Just an apology’s fine,” I said back with a smile, causing him to frown.
“Whatever.” He tsked, still holding his phone up. “I’m sorry. Happy?”
I flashed him a toothy smile.
“Delighted.” I continued walking, bumping my shoulder with his so his clothes got a taste of his own coffee, too.
Punching this fucker would have felt better, but I couldn’t risk being sent to prison again.
I was on parole for the next six months, and so few places were interested in hiring a convicted felon.
Although calling me that for only beating the shit out of a rude man was a bit much.
I never planned to kill him that night, only rough him up.
It wasn’t my fault that he suddenly had a heart attack, one that didn’t even kill him.
But combined with the few broken bones I gave him and my record, it was enough to get me three years.
One thing was for sure: prison was nothing like Juvie, and I never wanted to go back there.
But back to the present. Mid-Beach was definitely different in vibe from my neighborhood, starting with the obscene number of palm trees. Then you had the dumb tourists, walking down the street half-naked, and of course, the beach, which was… gorgeous. I had no complaints about the ocean.
A girl on rollerblades and a dress that covered up nothing passed by me and turned around to shoot a wink my way.
I’m into cocks, bitch.
Ignoring her, I focused on finding the address.
The maps app on my phone showed I was only two minutes away from the hotel, so I continued walking ahead.
It was a bit far from the rest of the hotels on this coastline, but that aligned with what I’d read online about this place being a new five-star hotel known for its exclusivity.
Sure, it was a bitch getting here from home, but the pay was high, and the hours were good.
And the best part? I actually got the interview, meaning I had a chance.
Or not, given the way this lady was staring at my stained shirt, like I had shit smeared all over me.
“It’s coffee,” I said, to clarify, as we’d been sitting in the lounge without saying a word for a little too long.
Shaking her head, my interviewer looked down at the tablet in her hands. “So, Mr. Rivas, as I was saying earlier, Kallos is a luxurious hotel known for its exclusivity and grandeur. In fact, this isn’t a hotel, but an experience.”
The whole time this lady was speaking to me, she didn’t lift her eyes off the tablet she read from.
It made it clear that she found this interview a waste of her time and just wanted to be done with it.
So, as she went on talking more about her precious hotel, oops, experience, I took a second to look around.
We were sitting in a lounge that looked really fancy.
Everything was built out of marble and stone, with plants and other shit that made it look nice.
The few people who walked around seemed just as rich, and I wondered what one needed to do to be this loaded.
Probably run a cartel.
A man walked to the bar, and my heart basically stopped.
Why? Because he was fucking perfect. Beyond that, he looked unreal, as if I were tripping on some serious acid.
He was young, about my age, and yet his hair was all white, the same as his clothes.
It was odd, I’d admit, yet stunning nonetheless.
His skin was pale, like he didn’t live under the Miami sun, yet his cheeks and lips were a gorgeous red.
Tall and with broad shoulders, he looked like one of those sexy runway models I used to fuck with, only so much hotter, if that were even possible.
Hooked, I watched him talk to the bartender, admiring how his jaw moved when he spoke.
Pointing around the bar, it looked like he was giving the bartender directions.
Could he be working here? Fuck, if he did, I really need to nail this gig.
Then, as if sensing someone was watching him, he turned my way, and I got a full look at his amber eyes, as bright as the sun. My mouth dried, and I stared at him, utterly bewitched.
“Mr. Rivas?”
My eyes widened, and I snapped out of my trance and turned to look back at the lady interviewing me.
“Yeah?”
She sighed. “As I was saying, it doesn’t seem like you’re the right fit—”
“What’s going on in here?”
Looking aside, I saw the man from the bar was now standing right next to us. I was blinded by him as if he were the sun, and somehow, my first instinct was to jump to my feet. The man stared at me, a bit stunned, before he smiled, and I noticed the small scar he had on his upper lip.
I want to run my tongue over it.
His eyes then moved down to my clothes, and I could feel my cheeks getting warmer with embarrassment. He probably thought I was a complete loser.
“Seems like you had a small accident.” He chuckled, and fuck me, did his voice sound like a dream. “Coffee, I presume?”
Up close, his eyes were even more captivating, and unsure what to focus on, because all of him was beautiful, I settled for his face.
“Y-yeah.” My voice came out too rough, and I coughed to clear my throat. “I mean, yes. Some guy bumped into me on my way here.”
“It happens to the best of us.” Once again, his lips curled into a soft smile. “So, what are you two doing here?” he asked the lady doing the interview, turning to look at her.
As he did, I noticed the big X-shaped scar adorning the right side of his face.
It cut deep into his flesh, and I had no doubt that, however he’d gotten it, it was painful.
My throat dried with unsettling curiosity, and I swallowed hard, feeling hot all over.
Why? I had no clue. All I knew was that I wanted this man to be on top of me.
“I’m interviewing for the new maintenance position,” she said, bringing me back to reality. “I was just about to wrap it up—”
“I’ll finish the interview,” he said, sending his hand forward to take the tablet from her.
The lady seemed shocked, her brows pulling close before she handed him the tablet and slowly got up. “Y-yes, of course.”
She moved aside, giving him room to pass.
“Oh, and Claris?” he stopped her.
She quickly turned to look at him. “Yes?”
“Could you be a dear and please check the Royal Suite one more time? I want to ensure everything’s ready for the prince’s arrival.”
She eagerly nodded. “Yes, of course, I’ll attend to it right away.”
“Thank you,” he said, voice sweeter than dulce de leche.
With her gone, he sat down and pointed at my chair.
“Please, have a seat, make yourself comfortable.”
I loved a man with good manners, and my ass hit the chair before he finished his words.
“Would you like anything to drink?”
I shook my head like some eager dog. “Nah, I’m good.”
He gave me that sweet smile again that made me hot.
“Did you just say… a prince?” I asked, trying to distract myself from his lips.
“I did.”
He’s so posh.
“We have very high-profile clients from all around the world.”
“That’s nice.”
“It is.” He smiled, bringing his fingers to rest against his cheek as he looked down at the tablet. “So, your last name is Rivas?”
He glanced up to meet my stare.
“Yeah.”
“Latino?”
“Argentinian.”
“How unique.”
Feeling heat creeping up my spine, I raised my hand to ruffle my hair when I remembered I had it pulled in a half bun and quickly brought it back to my lap.
“I assume Claris has told you a bit about our unique hotel?”
“She called it an experience.”
Crossing one leg over the other, his trousers lifted up just a bit to show off his ankles, and I stole a quick glance. Just like the rest of him, they were elegant, and I had a strong urge to have him step over me with those sleek loafers he wore.
“Well, she wasn’t wrong, as here at the Kallos, our first priority is to provide our guests with the most extraordinary experience while they stay with us. After all, staying at the Kallos is truly a once-in-a-lifetime kind of visit.”
The more he talked, the more he reminded me of a cat. Not a street cat, but a fancy one. Like the rich type, with perfect white fur and a diamond collar. The type of cat that ended up inheriting its owner’s money.
It was awfully specific, I know, but I couldn’t help it. Those eyes and that hair, the posh way he spoke… Fuck. I wanted to bite him.
“You see, every one of my employees is carefully chosen,” he said, when I realized something.
“Yours?”
“Oh.” He chuckled. “I haven’t introduced myself, how rude… I’m Ariyan. I’m the manager of this hotel,” he said, his lips curling into that sweet smile of his.
Fuck me, even the way he said his name, breaking it into distinct parts, Ari-Yan, made me hot all over. How the hell could a man saying his own name be this sexy? But hold on––
“You’re the manager?” My brows rose. “Aren’t you too young?”
He huffed, covering his mouth with his hand. “Aren’t you straightforward?”
I pressed my lips shut, cursing myself for being a complete idiot.
Ariyan then placed his hand down on the armchair. “I’m twenty-seven, and I see you’re twenty… four?”
“I am.”
His eyes went back to the tablet. “It says here that you’ve finished high school and have a background in boxing and that you have briefly worked in a fast-food restaurant.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Cooked burgers and stuff.”
“How lovely.”
My stare slipped to his fingers, which tapped on the armchair until he spoke again. “I do see the last three years in your resume are blank. Is there a reason for that?”
There it was. The question I was asked in every interview, and the answer to which killed any chances of my getting the job.
Only now, it was much worse than that because I didn’t want such a beautiful man to know what a piece of trash I actually was.
Disappointed, I looked down at my palms, mouth set in a hard line.
“Mr. Rivas?”
“I did three years for aggravated assault.” I took a deep breath and glanced up.
“I’m not proud of it, but I was a hotheaded kid without a brain back then, and I swear to God I learned my lesson.
” Brushing a hand over my jaw, I thought back on those awful days in the slammer.
“I got out on parole only a month ago. I know I don’t fit in here, but I promise to do my best if you hire me.
I’ll work harder than anyone else here, I swear. Give me a chance, and you’ll see.”
The whole time I spoke, Ariyan looked at me silently, no expression visible on his porcelain face. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, but I assumed it was no different from the others.
“Thank you for being honest,” he finally said.
My stomach flipped, like I’d just lost a fight, and I dropped my stare to the floor so I wouldn’t have to face him when he rejected me.
“It isn’t easy finding a job with such a past, is it?”
My eyes shot to his, and I was shocked to see the kindness in them.
“It’s shit. That’s what it is.”
His smile slipped before he leaned forward so he was a bit closer to me. “I’ll tell you a secret, Mr. Rivas. I’m a big fan of second chances.”
Not believing the words he was saying, I stared at him, shocked. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and that I was actually being given an opportunity for the first time.
“Does that mean I’ve got the job?”
Ariyan leaned back in his chair, his lips once again forming a small smile. “If you want it—”
“I do.”
He seemed amused by my eagerness, but who gave a shit. If making a fool out of myself would make him smile, sign me the fuck up to be the court jester.
“Well then,” he said and stood up.
He really was tall, and I quickly got to my feet, loving that he was still a few inches shorter than me. He reached his right hand forward, and I took it.
His amber eyes once again locked with mine, a knowing smile on his plump lips.
“Welcome to the Kallos, Mr. Rivas. I’m sure we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”