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It couldn’t be the same Owen Clarke I met all those years ago. Right? I mean, that would be crazy. This city is huge, there’s no way it’s him.
I shake off the thought.
“Oh, yes. Mr. Godoy’s phone is off, but I can take a message if you want me to relay it to him,” I say, grabbing my feathery pen and my green notepad. I like to take notes on different notepads depending on the day—Friday’s color is green.
“Yes, please tell him to stop being an arsehole and pick up the phone. He was supposed to come with me to a meeting and never showed up,” the man snaps before hanging up.
My jaw hits the floor.
Wow, he’s definitely pissed at my boss.
I jot down the message but decide against calling or texting. Instead, I send Mr. Godoy an email about hisveryunhappy friend.
Once I hit send, I take a minute to go to the bathroom and give myself a pep talk. “Okay, babes. You’ve handled worse arseholes than your boss. Well… Not really. He’s one of a kind. But this is for Ava, it’s not you playing hooky. You got this.”
Blowing myself a kiss, I smooth my hair and check my reflection. I want to at least look nice for the cameras as I let him know I’m leaving for the day.
I walk back into the office space with all the sass I can muster, shaking my bum a little too much for being in an office, but I know my assets. Since he’s been a dick to me, I can play dirty, too.
“Mr. Godoy, the last meeting for today is already waiting for you on line two,” I say the moment he picks up the phone. It’s one o’clock here but only ten in the morning in Santiago— plenty of time for him to take the afternoon to tour the vineyard as planned.
Looking straight at the camera, I add, “Also, Mr. Godoy, I’ll be leaving in about ten minutes. I’ve already cleared it with my manager.”
His face suddenly fills my computer screen.
“Wait, wait—hold on a second. What do you mean you’re leaving early. Why?” he demands.
Wow. I didn’t realize he could just pop-up like that.
Hot damn. He’s even more handsome than the pictures I’ve seen online. A faint stubble shadows his jaw, and instead of a three-piece suit I’ve seen him wear in pictures, he’s in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
I’ve read about arm porn, but I’ve actually never seen it—until now.
“Ms. Flores,” he says, clearing his throat.
“Yes, here. I’m sorry.” I touch my hair and I press my lips together hard, not really knowing what to say.
“Why are you leaving early, Ms. Flores?”
He heaves an exasperated sigh, and thedicktatorI’m used to dealing with is back.
All that manly hotness threw me off for a second, butthisI can handle.
“I have a medical appointment,” I say without any other explanation.
He remains completely immobile. For a moment, I think the image froze—until he raises his eyebrows.
I press my lips together again, this time to keep from laughing.
“My daughter has a medical appointment, Mr. Godoy, and she’s five. I need to go with her.”
“And why do you have to take her? Where’s her father?”
I blink, stunned.
My eyes widen at his question, which is absolutely none of his business.
“He’s dead, Mr. Godoy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going. All documents are in their respective folders. I’ll see you on Monday.”