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MARISELA

I took another long drag from my Cuban, blowing the smoke into the air as I leaned against the wood deck at the back of my grandparents’ summer home. A villa not far from the one I rented a few streets over. Voices rising and falling, laughing and conversing.

I hated these things. Big events where everyone was a version of themself that wasn’t anywhere close to who they were beneath all the makeup and party-wear. I was also good at them.

Both could be true, you know. You could be good at something you hated. Sometimes it made you hate it more because it took away your excuse not to do it. It was an expectation. People expected you to enjoy what you were good at.

I didn’t enjoy this. The noise, the crowd, the fakeness. At least not anymore, I didn’t .

I’d just raised the end of the cigar to my mouth again when a warm hand glided across my back.

“Marisela.” Javi hummed my name more than spoke it. A mix between a growl and purr as I spun around and he lifted my hand to his lips. Pressing a kiss to my knuckles. His eyes never leaving mine. “It’s been a long time.”

I nodded once. “It has.”

“Sorry to hear about your mother.” His brows drew together in the middle. An expression that resembled concern but not quite.

“What exactly did you hear?” I asked him.

“That she ran off a few years ago. Can’t say any of us were surprised. Nora always was a free spirit.” He shrugged, his mouth tipping into a crooked grin. “As are you from what I remember.”

“What you remember is a girl rebelling against her father. I’m not so much a girl anymore,” I countered.

“No, you aren’t. Are you?” His eyes flicked down the length of my legs before slowly traveling back up.

Lingering much longer than they should before landing on my face again.

“Your abuela mentioned that you’re in need of a loan?

Why don’t we take a little stroll and you can tell me all about your marital troubles? ”

What he meant was that my grandmother told him I needed a husband ; the loan was his polite way of turning her down.

Javier Castillo wasn’t interested in getting married.

Just in getting his dick sucked and not by the girl he remembered biting his ankles when he told her she couldn’t play toy soldiers with him .

His tastes were much softer now. Younger.

More delicate than anything I could offer him.

He might have been eyeing me like a piece of meat as we walk side by side, far enough away from the other partygoers that no one could hear us, but that didn’t mean I was his first choice on the menu.

He just wasn’t the type of man who worried about going hungry.

Not when opening his wallet had all the fish flopping themselves into his net without him having to do anything but stand there.

And that’s what he was doing right now. Standing in the middle of the garden, his dress shirt unbuttoned and his posture relaxed as he passed me his business card.

“Let’s set something up this week, discuss how this deal could be mutually beneficial for everyone.” His fingers grazed my wrist as he pulled his hand back. “And bring the girl with you.”

I lifted a brow, crossing my arms over my chest while pinching the card between my nails. “I didn’t know you were in the market for an assistant?”

“I’m not.” He grinned. “I’m not in the market for a wife either. That doesn’t mean we can’t… enjoy each other’s company.”

“Enjoy, huh?” I tilted my head, raking my glare over his dark-brown loafers and gray slacks. His matching leather belt and freshly-ironed dinner jacket. The open collar told the world he was relaxed; the designer labels told them he could afford to be. “Are you talking about me or the girl, Javi?”

He shrugged. “You know I’ve always thought of you like a little sister, zorra. Then again, I can see you’re not so little anymore, hm?” It was his pet name for me when we were kids. Meant to be an insult, his way of calling me wild and untamed. I took it as a compliment.

“No, I’m not. My teeth are a hell of a lot sharper, though.”

He threw his head back on a loud laugh. “I take that back. You might be taller but you haven’t changed at all, have you, Mari.”

“We all change, Javi,” I grunted. “It’s just not always for the better.”

“No, not always for the better,” he agreed.

“I’ll be in contact.” I nodded once before brushing past him. Then trudged back up the small hill and over towards the deck. Cursing his name under my breath as I swiped a bottle of wine from a nearby table and brought the whole thing to my lips.

The first swig went down easy. The second and third even easier.