Page 2 of Falling for the Bosshole

He pulled her close and kissed her on the lips. Ana was furious. She struggled and pushed him hard with all her strength. Lucio crashed against the edge of the counter, chuckling before reaching out for her once more. He tried to kiss her, groping her breast as he did. Ana’s rage boiled over. She grabbed the nearest weapon she could find, the beer bottle, and swung at Lucio’s head.

The bottle shattered as blood spurted from the cut. The look of surprise on Lucio’s face was comical. He touched his head and saw the blood in his hand. His face turned savage.

“Why, you cunt,” he snarled.

He lunged for her. Ana sidestepped with an agility she probably inherited from her ancestors. Lucio went crashing into a nearby table. The table toppled over. Plates and food flew everywhere along with the patrons seated around it. Chaos ensued as some waiters tried to restrain Lucio, who proved to be stronger than all of them combined. Curses flew along with elbows and arms. Soon, people were screaming and running in all directions. A police siren wailed in the distance then came to a full stop outside the restaurant. Cops entered the premises as Lucio was hauled away. Ana was slapped with handcuffs and taken to a police station. The rest of the night was surreal until Ana found herself alone inside the prison cell.

“What did I do,” she whispered, still horrified.

The resulting humiliation from this imprisonment was something she did not even wish to imagine. But Ana couldn’t lie to herself. Part of the reason she ended up inside this seedy cell wasn’t just because of Lucio. Sure, she wanted to break up with the asshole, but along with that was the truth that frustration had been building up inside of her these past few weeks. It was because of that dance company in New York. She had sent audition tapes and waited eagerly for a reply. None came. Her hopes of pursuing a career in dance slowly ebbed with every passing day. She thought that if she did the right thing and broke up with Lucio, fate would reward her good behavior. Instead, she found herself alone inside a jail cell.

Ana’s face dropped to her hands as she sobbed.

“Ana…Ana dear, are you alright?”

Ana’s head whipped. She thought she was dreaming. Standing outside the cell was Diane Hawkins. Standing beside her was her husband, Leon Alvaro. She didn’t even hear them come in. Relief surged throughout her body as she scrambled to her feet.

“Diane…Leon, how-how did you know where to find me?” She asked incredulously.

Diane was her employer at the cancer facility. It was she who allowed Ana to work as her interpreter when she was only a fresh graduate. Ana was a witness to the love affair that blossomed between Diane, a New York socialite, and Spain’s most famous football player, Leon Álvaro. Leon had his arm draped protectively around his wife as if he could protect her from the stench emanating from the cell.

“We can talk about that on the way out,” Diane replied, fanning her nose delicately.

“I’m free to go?” Ana asked weakly. She couldn’t believe her luck. Diane and Leon weren’t just her employers--tonight they were her angels.

“Yes,” Leon replied, signaling the deputy who opened the cell door.

Ana’s knees trembled. She stumbled as she walked. Diane held her arm to keep her steady. Ana hesitated, thinking this was all a dream, and she would be sent back inside. But everything appeared normal in the precinct outside.

Ana turned to Diane. “They’re just letting me go that easily?”

“Leon took care of it. We should get you home so you can change from those filthy clothes

That was the only reproach Ana heard in Diane’s voice.

“Diane, I know how this all looks. And I can explain…”

“It can wait,” Diane retorted as they headed toward Leon’s car parked alongside the curb.

It was a breezy night with a sky full of stars. Ana was grateful that Leon put the top down on the Mercedes Benz convertible. It cleared the fuzz in her brain. Leon probably didn’t want his wife assaulted with her stench too.

They arrived at the beach house owned by Diane, where Ana stayed on as Diane’s caretaker, taking off every morning for the facility in Torrevieja, where she worked as Diane’s assistant. It was an efficient arrangement, and Ana was grateful for the free lodging.

Ana joined them in the living room. She was too embarrassed to even look at them. Instead, she asked. “How did you know where to find me?”

“One of my players was at the restaurant and saw what happened. He called me when the cops took you away. I called up Diane and told her you were in trouble. I made some calls, and we came to spring you,” Leon explained. Ana heard the quiet laughter in his voice.

Diane looked serious as she waited for Ana to explain. Ana knew she owed Diane the truth … she recounted what happened at the restaurant and how things went wrong. Diane giggled at the part about hitting Lucio on the head. Ana knew she never approved of Lucio.

Her words faltered as she struggled to share her mounting frustration over the unanswered emails she sent to the dance company in New York. The last thing Ana wanted was for Diane to think she wanted to leave for something so fleeting and uncertain. She didn’t even realize that tears had started to fall down her cheeks.

“You’ve always wanted to become a dancer?” Diane asked, surprised

Ana nodded, feeling it was such a shallow dream.

“Then, by all means, you need to go,” Diane replied.

Ana was stunned. “You’re not angry I want to leave you?”

“My dear Ana. Dreams are nourishment that feeds the soul. If you ignore it, it will break your spirit. You lose the essence of who you are. You may or may not succeed, but you’ll never know until you try,” Diane replied softly.

Two days later, Ana was in a frenzy stuffing clothes into an army backpack. Her nose wrinkled at the haversack. It was ugly as hell but quite sturdy. Everything she needed would fit nicely inside. It was a practical choice. She didn’t have the luxury to shop for anything more sophisticated. Besides, she barely even had time to make it to the airport. The flight leaving Barcelona for New York then onwards to the audition would be a tight squeeze. She just prayed she would make it.

She was reaching for a pair of dance shoes on top of the cabinet when a piece of fragile silk fluttered to the ground. It was a hip scarf with bells that tinkled merrily as she retrieved it. Her skin broke into goosebumps.

“It’s a sign,” Ana whispered.

The hip scarf was the spark that had ignited her dream of becoming a dancer. Ana had found the scarf in a garbage dump. She never mentioned it to her mom, knowing her mother hated souvenirs that would remind her of her own gypsy heritage. That was a mystery Ana never understood all these years. So she kept the scarf a secret — something about the fragile piece of clothing connected with her soul.

She smiled, raising the scarf to her lips. This was going to be her lucky charm. The gods were on her side, she thought, as she stuffed it into the backpack.