Chapter 7
Can I at least get a tiny bit pissy? Mia pouts as we drive toward Ibiza Town.
Her disappointment makes me laugh and her shoulders slump a little when I shake my head.
Boo. I just want to tell Mr. Castillo exactly how I feel about him.
Mia’s sporty driving style has swept a few strands of hair out of my carefully styled updo.
I’m wearing one of my nicer dresses and have twisted my hair up into an elegant bun.
I want to exude rationale, put-together vibes.
This is tough business, but getting angry will only play to the advantage of these real estate bros.
I would have done this on my own if it wasn’t for Mia wanting to bear witness to the negotiations.
I know, I say with a chuckle. It just wouldn’t exactly be professional to let you verbally brutalize him. Given the opportunity to really ramp up, it wouldn’t take Mia more than a few words to flatten Los Castillos into 2D versions of their former selves.
Hmph, Mia grunts, semi-annoyed. Sometimes I’m not sure we’re actually related. Where’s your Spanish temperament? This calculated business-y energy definitely came to you through your Dutch roots.
My reply sets off a bicker-fest that keeps us going for the rest of the drive, wondering how terrible of an idea it would be to call our lender an asshole directly to his face.
Mouth agape, I stare up at the massive tower in the old neighbourhood of Ibiza Town.
The surrounding houses all have sand-coloured walls and wooden shutters—a complete mismatch for the contemporary minimalist design of this huge office building.
The architect opted for metal beams and lots of glass.
The building is nearly all window. Palm trees line the pathway that leads up to the giant revolving doors.
There’s a big Los Castillos sign over the entrance.
The company logo—a whisper-thin outline of an abstract castle—stands tall behind the curly font and for a moment all my courage slips away.
Who do I think I am, going up against this company with just five years of freelance experience under my belt?
They’re huge and successful and have a frightening urge to colonize.
What do we think we’re doing? They could very easily put that strangle clause of our lending contract into motion and wipe us off the map in no time.
Actually, why haven’t they done that yet?
Do they secretly just love watching commoners like us squirm?
Or are they just as aware as I am that the clause would likely be declared invalid in court if Abuelo and Abuela decided to fight it?
Eva, are you okay? I hear Mia’s concerned voice coming from my left and it pulls me back into the here and now.
I swallow a few times before nodding.
I’m really proud of you, you know? she whispers as we walk into the building, giving my hand a comforting squeeze.
I know I was just bitching about your calm and collected attitude, but it’s really incredible how you never shy away from a tough challenge.
You just latch onto things and refuse to let go. You are phenomenal.
I can feel my mouth curl into a smile and I look at her with grateful eyes. That was the pep talk I needed. I mumble a quick thank you, then pull my shoulders back in an effort to look more self-assured.
We walk into a massive lobby with a metal fountain in the middle of the space and water clattering loudly onto the surface.
There are lounge sofas and chairs in the corners of the room.
Taking a deep breath, I march up to the reception desk.
The woman behind the desk is impeccably dressed with flawless makeup and an elegant Grace Kelly twist in her dyed blonde hair.
She takes us in with a suspicious look in her dark grey eyes.
Good afternoon, how can I help you? she asks coolly.
Hi. We’re here to see Mr. Castillo, I reply, taking care to keep the quiver out of my voice. I feel intimidated by this ginormous building and this woman’s calculated attitude.
Her icy eyes linger on my face for a beat before she continues. Do you have an appointment?
After I nod and give her my name, she motions for us to take a seat on one of the sofas.
Within seconds, an assistant, who looks nearly identical to the receptionist, arrives to escort us, leading us to the elevator.
The button for each floor lights up as we pass until we finally arrive at the top floor and the elevator doors open with a gentle ding.
The interior of this new space is a perfect match for the rest of the building.
It’s cold, harsh, and impersonal. On the wall, there’s a large map of Ibiza that includes a number of enlarged buildings.
Must be Los Castillos properties. The floors are grey and the room is filled with desks lined up in tight rows.
Multiple employees are engaged in phone conversations and judging by their agitated movements they all have pretty angry people on the other end of the line.
The open space is surrounded by private offices with floor-to-ceiling windows.
Probably so those higher up the company’s food chain can keep a close eye on their employees to make sure everyone’s actually working.
A suited-up man paces restlessly back and forth in his little office.
He flails his arms around wildly as he talks to a second man seated in a fancy armchair.
Mr. Castillo’s assistant walks ahead of us to the office that’s furthest away from all of this and undoubtedly has the best view in the whole building.
On high heels and with a gentle sway to her hips, she approaches a door and then knocks.
Even though this office has the same glass wall as the others, the blinds are closed, obscuring whoever’s inside the room from view.
The assistant knocks three times before letting herself in.
Ms. Martens and Ms. Pérez are here to see you, Mr. Castillo, she says politely.
I can’t hear the man’s reply, but the assistant takes a step aside to let us through.
Mia enters ahead of me and as soon as I lay eyes on the man sitting behind the brown oak desk, I freeze in the doorway, gasping for air.
My heart is slamming against my ribs while my gaze latches on to Elias’s dark brown eyes.
It’s like I’m looking at a completely different person.
In contrast to last weekend, he’s now wearing a sharply tailored suit.
His hair, that once fell to his forehead in a tousled tangle, has been cleanly combed into place.
The tattoo on his right arm is now covered by the expensive fabric of his shirt and jacket, and his feet are clad in shiny leather shoes.
His eyes widen when he sees me—a shift that tells me he didn’t have a clue who would be walking into his office, just as much as I had no idea that he was the person I would be meeting today.
I don’t remember a single inebriated word I said on Saturday night, but going off of his reaction now, I didn’t mention a word about the restaurant fiasco.
Elias is holding me captive with his gaze and my mouth feels dry.
I feel a twinge of disappointment in my belly when I realize our upcoming date is off the table now.
I can sense Mia looking from me to Elias and back with a perplexed expression on her face.
When I notice my mouth is hanging wide open, I slam my jaw shut, putting an end to our staring contest.
Elias’s assistant glances at me with furrowed eyebrows and finally clears her throat. Can I get anyone anything to drink?
When Elias and I both stay silent, the assistant gives Mia an inquiring look.
I’ll take a cappuccino, please.
When I still make no attempt to unglue my jaw, Mia adds, And another one for Eva. Two sugars.
That seems to prompt Elias out of his dazed state. I’ll just have a coffee. Black, please.
I sniff in disdain. Black coffee. Of course this monopoly king would prefer bitter flavour over sweetness.
Elias still looks alarmed, but gestures to the chairs at his desk. Please. Have a seat.
The ability to move finally returns to my body, so I walk over to the desk, sit down, and cross my legs.
My foot is restless and the stiletto heel of my shoe taps against the flooring.
I can feel Mia’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my head, but I keep my outraged stare trained on the gorgeous man in front of me.
He swallows, gliding a hand through his hair before letting out a shaky breath. Well, this is a coinci... he starts to say, but I interrupt him mid-sentence.
I thought you owned a diving academy? I snark, the accusation in my voice undeniable.
Elias leans back in his leather desk chair and fidgets with a silver cufflink as his eyes dart over to Mia and back to me.
The anger I have kept carefully under wraps for weeks, is now bubbling right below the surface.
I feel completely screwed, both personally and on behalf of my family.
Thank God I didn’t succeed in jumping this guy last week, or our situation now would be ten times more awkward than it already is.
I... never said... Elias begins to explain, but he’s interrupted by his assistant delivering our coffees.
Thank you, Catalina, he says politely as the woman hands out coffee cups.
Once she’s closed the door behind her, he looks at me again with an impenetrable expression in his eyes.
I couldn’t have said that because it’s not true. Not yet, at least. He lets out a small, arrogant laugh.