41. Santiago #2
My rage spiked in seconds.
“Watch it.”
“Oh, fuck you, you double-standard asshole. Talking shit about Dad. You weren’t even at his funeral, dumbass. Instead, your ass was rotting in jail for punching some loser. So you go ahead and shove your high morals up your gay ass.”
My eyes widened, and I reached to grab him, but he dodged it.
“What? Can’t handle the fuckin’ truth?” he snarled. “Dad died ’cause of you, and you know it.”
“You little shit!” I roared as I began chasing after him around the house, pushing over everything that stood in my way. The little shit was fast, jumping on the couch before I could punch him as he damn well deserved.
“Fuck you, Santi,” he went on, tossing the desk lamp at my head.
I ducked in time, but it shattered against the wall, sending glass onto the floor.
Still, I was too fucking angry to care, and instead, I kept chasing him.
He made me run after him around the house for a little while, and by the time we were both out of breath, the living room looked like a tornado had gone through it.
Now, Nacio was buckled against the front door while I stood across the room, eyes pinned on him. My chest was heavy, not only because of all the running around, but because of that brat’s words.
“What’s the matter, bro, got tired already?” he huffed, wiping sweat from his brow. “Or you finally get how stupid you were?”
“Stupid?” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Yeah, dumbass. Stupid. The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
I continued to stare at him, and for a minute, the thought of seriously punching him crossed my mind, but instead, I bit my lip and straightened up.
“The truth, huh?” I asked, my shoulders rising and falling as I calmed my breath.
He seemed confused before jerking his head. “Whatever—”
“The truth is that you’re a fucking loser, Nacio.
A loser who’s wasting his time on some puta who doesn’t give a shit about him.
But you’re too fucking lame to see it. Maybe once you actually work for something in your life, you’ll learn to appreciate it.
So grow the fuck up ’cause you’re fucking pathetic. ”
The smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a deep frown, and I could see his eyes turning shiny from across the room. And the second that first tear slid down his cheek, I felt like crap. It wasn’t like we had never fought before; we certainly had, but never like this.
“Listen, Nacio—”
“I fucking hate you,” he said, voice trembling. He then opened the door and stormed out, slamming it behind him.
“Fuck!” I shouted, feeling like breaking something. But one glance around the house told me I already had, and with a sigh, I closed my eyes.
Between Ariyan, work, and fighting, I was losing sight of Nacio.
The one person I cared most about in this world.
But then again, he’d just told me to fuck off, hadn’t he?
So maybe, for a change, I should leave him alone.
I mean, if he thought he had life all figured out, well, he could be my fucking guest.
I’d be out of his way from this day onward.
* * *
Not even eight hours since my decision to stay out of my little brother’s life, and there I was, already taking back my words. Checking my phone for what seemed like the hundredth time, I saw Nacio still hadn’t called back or answered any of my texts.
Fuck.
I’d admit to being too harsh on him, but in my defense, he went pretty low himself.
Bringing up Dad like that was a shitty thing to do.
Still, I shouldn’t have reacted as I did.
Especially when it all really came down to her, that dumb puta he was throwing his life away for.
The mere thought of that bleached-hair bimbo was enough to get me worked up all over again, and angry, I pocketed my phone.
Stuck at work, it would be hours before I went back home, and either way, I highly doubted Nacio would be there, not after I’d lashed out at him.
Ariyan was out all day, too, which sucked. And now, in desperate need of a distraction, I decided to visit Imani. If I wasn’t wrong, she was working at the beach bar today.
“Hey, Santiago,” Taylor, the receptionist, called once I crossed the lobby on my way out.
“Sup?”
“Any chance you could help us with some of the luggage? Ariyan said we could ask you if we needed help.”
A quick glance at the reception counter was enough to tell they had their hands full with work, so I nodded.
“Sure.”
I walked myself to the luggage room, having a strong sense of déjà vu from when I’d just started working here.
Back when Ari was still pretending to be a sweetheart.
Although I bet it wasn’t all an act. The more I got to know him, the more I got to see his softer side.
True, it might have been buried under hard concrete and a few layers of thick ice, but it typically resurfaced whenever he was about to come.
Since the elevators were currently used by guests, I figured the stairs would be the quickest option for me.
Besides, running up and down holding suitcases would check my cardio box for the day.
Only I came to regret this decision after my tenth round.
Now, sweating my ass off, I was ready for this stairs hell to be over.
Luckily, I only had two more suitcases left.
Checking the note on the first one, I saw it needed to go to the Royal Suite on the thirteenth floor.
Great. Just great.
I checked the second bag, which was much smaller but heavy as fuck. Whatever someone shoved in there weighed a ton, but what caught my attention even more was the note attached to it.
14th Floor.
Speaking of déjà vu, this shit had also happened before.
Only back then, I figured it was some mistake.
But I guess coincidences did happen. Still, just in case, I took this suitcase with me on my way to the top floor.
It was heavy to carry up the stairs, and unlike before, I had to stop a few times to shake my arm.
Taking a short break to stretch, I glanced down at the heavy bag.
The temptation to peek inside made me itch, but knowing it would probably piss Ariyan the fuck off, I bit my lip, grabbed the bag, and ran up the remaining floors.
I dropped the first suitcase in its designated room, then paused for another short break.
By the looks of the fancy suite, the person staying there sure didn’t lack money.
The bed was covered with rose petals, while a bottle of champagne was placed next to it in an ice bucket. Someone’s gonna have fun tonight.
Walking further into the room, I eyed the big fruit basket that was on the table, with a “Welcome” note stuck to one of the peaches.
Thinking about it, didn’t Ari say he hated peaches?
At first, I thought he liked them, so I kept using Nacio’s hair products until he changed his mind and nearly gagged at the smell. That guy… what a fucking enigma.
A loud thump startled me, and I tensed on the spot. Thinking someone had walked in and shut the door, I glanced behind me, but no one was there. It also didn’t sound like a door shutting, but more like something heavy dropping to the floor.
The same sound repeated itself, and this time, I was certain something had hit the floor.
Grabbing the other suitcase, I got out of the suite, expecting to find someone in the hallway, one of the guests or maybe a maid, but it was empty.
Looking to my right and left, I was the only one here, and yet, I’d just heard that sound again.
But somehow, it sounded like it came from the upper floor, only there was none, right?
I looked up, eyes narrowing on the ceiling, my hair standing on fucking end with how creepy this was beginning to feel.
Maybe it was in my head, but I swore to God I heard footsteps.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I left the suitcase in the hall before going back to the stairway to check it out.
But just as I’d already figured, this was the last floor.
Still, there was a door leading to the rooftop.
Walking over to it, I grabbed the door’s handle, my heart somehow beating faster as I pulled it—
Locked.
I tried again, only to confirm it was indeed locked, which made sense, given the hotel wouldn’t like guests and employees climbing up to the roof.
But then, something occurred to me, and I walked back to the hallway.
Crouching before the suitcase, I read the room tag again. Was this really a coincidence—
The sound of the elevator made me look up just in time to see its doors open, and there stood Ariyan, his eyes immediately meeting mine.
“Mr. Rivas. May I ask what you’re doing up here?”