Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“I’m afraid not.” My brother and I are night and day. We may look a lot alike, but that’s where the similarities end. Our personalities couldn’t be more different. Where I’m a workaholic, Alejandro does the bare minimum. I don’t take just any woman for a ride, choosing to be selective. The same couldn’t be said for him.
“Send whatever it is up, then go on home, too. I won’t be much longer, and there’s no use for the both of us to be here,” I tell Mario, patience wearing thin after dealing with Alejandro and the bullshit that comes along with him. It’s time he and I had a talk. No more of this sending gifts, asking for help for his fuck-them-and-leave-them.
“Only if you’re sure, Mr. Martinez,” he states.
“I am. See you next week.” I hang up the phone and rub my temples, preparing for who the fuck knows what Alejandro has up his sleeve, safe in the knowledge that at least he’s not here to watch when I more than likely trash the present. If only he understood the only gift I need is him not being a reprobate. Too bad that will never happen.
SIX
Cadence
My nerves are a mess. The dress Rachel sent over is tight, revealing, and did I mention tight? I mean, sure, it’s pretty, but Jesus, how do people breathe in this get-up? After Mario announced my presence, I was escorted to the elevator, where the nice, older man pressed the button to open the doors, using a card to slide over the pad inside the square box I stood inside alone. The whooshing noise of it carrying me up to what I now realize is the top of the building has my stomach doing somersaults. This should be easy. Go inside to meet my date, spend the obligated time with him, and then go home. Easy-peasy. Yet it has my nerves completely on edge.
The dinging of the elevator and the the doors sliding open do not help in the least. I guess it’s a good thing no one is at the dark mahogany wood table. It screams wealth. The sign above it in what I’m assuming is metal, etched like the one downstairs, has the logo Martinez and Associates on it, in a design that is timeless and classic while still being edgy. My hand goes to my stomach, attempting to calm myself down, while the other pulls at the hem of my dress, which so happens to make my breasts pop out more. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Maybe I should call Hendrix, let her talk me out of this. I heard her apprehension on the phone, but after talking to my cousin again, it seemed like an easy thing to do then. Now, not so much.
“You can do this, Cadence. Think about your future, your jewelry business. No more weirdo Leah and Doctor Manning. A few dates, and you’ll be set up for success,” I tell myself, knowing I have a few more steps until I’ll be at my date’s door, knocking like the older gentlemen downstairs told me to do. The pep talk must do me some good because before I can overthink and process what to do next, my feet are carrying me to the large double doors. There’s no insignia on it. Heck, I don’t even know the guy’s name I’m supposed to go on a date with. How is that for details? Though, I shouldn’t be surprised. There’s a reason for the anonymity when using Dates for Hire.
I take one last deep breath and blow it out, wishing there were a mirror handy to make sure my hair didn’t decide to double in volume with the light mist that came out of nowhere this evening. It made for a tricky time getting in and out of the car while wearing four-inch stiletto heels. I’ll be honest. I practiced all afternoon so I wouldn’t fall flat on my face. Instead, I smooth my long hair down, using the oil from my sweat-slicked hands to help any frizz that may have popped up. There’s nothing else holding me up. It’s now or never. My hand rises in a fist, the knuckles knocking on the door, and the voice on the other end sends a shiver up my spine.
“Enter.” It’s deep, an ebb of darkness filtering through the mammoth of what I’m sure is a thick piece of wood judging by the rest of the place, so how he heard my knock, I’m unsure. My hand twists the knob. The heaviness has me taking my time, unprepared that it would take this much muscle to open a door. My head is downward, watching myself as I take a tentative step, not knowing what’s to come or where my feet will lead me, and once I’m inside, I’m in a state of shock. My eyes are unsure of where to land. The timeless design of the place, mixed with a new- and old-world, feel has me in awe. It isn’t until the man of the hour clears his throat that I know I’m completely in over my head because he’s none other than the most eligible, untouchable bachelor and also wealthiest realtor of LA, Santiago Martinez. One would think that the lightbulb would go off, seeing as how this is his building. Even I know that. It was the unknown that threw me off. Why would a man as beautiful as Santiago be here on a Saturday night? And why would he need a date when he could have anyone at his beck and call?