Chapter 3 Three

Costa Rica: 7 p.m.

LEONARDO POV

I scrolled through my phone in annoyance, as my driver pulled over at my mansion. He opened the door for me, and I muttered a quick thanks. A message about a meeting at the club house by 10 p.m. flashed on my screen, adding to my frustration.

Deciding to ignore the message, I pocketed my phone, only to have it ring immediately. With a sigh, I answered, already knowing who it was.

"Why are you after my life?" I grumbled, recognizing Pierre's mischievous laugh on the other end.

"Calm down, man. I'm not the cause of your predicament," he teased, in his thick accent adding flair to his words.

"I have no predicament," I retorted, almost too quickly, realizing I might have given away more than I intended to.

"Well, I'm sure you do," Pierre continued, refusing to drop the subject.

"Fine, Mom called me for dinner. I don't even know how the woman knows my every move. It's like she's after my life," I groaned, frustration evident in my voice.

"Well, she's worried. You haven't been in a relationship since..." Pierre trailed off, wisely avoiding the mention of Layla's name.

"I'm fine, no girlfriend, no stress. How about that?" I replied, as I made my way upstairs, shedding the day's formalities.

"Oh, please, what's life without women? They make life interesting," he said, and I rolled my eyes.

"I pity the women who fall for your sweet little lies, Pierre Schmitt," I said, earning a chuckle from him.

"Adonis and I will be waiting for you at the clubhouse. Hopefully, your mom doesn't get you married before your arrival," he teased before ending the call.

"You're crazy," I muttered to myself, throwing my phone on the bed and chuckling at the absurdity of my life.

Pierre Schmitt and Adonis Stravakos, my best friends since my university days at Oxford.

Changing into more casual attire, I checked my phone to find missed calls from Scarlett, my sister. Frowning, I wondered why they were calling me like their lives depended on it. All because they wanted me at dinner? This whole situation was making me suspicious.

As I headed towards my mom's estate, different thoughts raced through my mind. The Delgado mansion is a symbol of wealth and family expectations.

Entering the largeness of my family mansion, the evening air carried a mix of tension and anticipation. Workers in blue uniforms moved busily about their tasks as one of the guards greeted me.

"Welcome, young master," they greeted, and I nodded in acknowledgment.

"Leon!" Scarlett's voice echoed as she descended the stairs, a bowl of fruits in hand. Cheek kisses were exchanged.

"I won't stay long, though," I informed her, already planning my escape.

"Why?" she asked me, frowning.

"I'm meeting up with the guys at the clubhouse," I revealed, anticipating her disapproval.

"Why?" she questioned, turning her attention fully to me.

"I'm not a groom, stop teasing me, you're getting on my nerves." I defended myself, but Scarlett was uninterested.

"Fillgo (son)," Mom called, I went to her and hugged her.

We sat down for dinner, and almost immediately I heard the clicking of heels.

Oh no, I know what is happening; please let it not be what I'm thinking it is. I prayed in my mind. I turned, and my cheeks flushed in embarrassment at seeing a lady exchanging cheek kisses with my mother.

"Good evening, Aunt," she greeted excitedly, and I glared at Scarlett, who chuckled at me with frustration written in my face.

"It's so good to see you, Abigail. Leon arrived earlier, and we have been waiting for you," she said, and the girl blushed slightly.

"Seriously?? Mum?? Scar??" I asked, facing Scarlet, who gave me the calm down sign.

How was I supposed to calm down? When mom just said we were waiting patiently for this...

Ara. ... Anna, whatever her name is again.

"Son," she whispered softly, and I tried to divert my mind.

"Leon," mom called, and I turned politely towards her and gave her a small smile.

No matter what, I wasn't the type to treat a woman badly, I just didn't have it in me to treat anyone less.

"Hey, I'm Abigail, Victoria's secret angel," she said, smiling flirtily introducing herself.

"Leonardo Delgado," I uttered, shaking her hands.

"You're so handsome in person, the videos, pictures, magazines, and social media photos didn't do you justice," she said in awe, and I tried my best not to make things awkward.

This wasn't the first time I'd gotten a reaction like this, anyway. It happens a lot. It's worse when Pierre, Adonis, and I go out together; they treat us like freaking celebrities.

The funny thing is that we have nothing to do with the entertainment industry.

"She's from Cuba, her father happens to be one of our top investors." Mom went on and on, preaching about the particular girl I'm not even interested in knowing, and the more I pretended to listen to their boring talks, the more my head banged with headache.

I'm beginning to wonder if the universe is against me or something. Dinner ended, and I felt a wave of relief as I got up to leave. However, my mother had other plans.

"Son," she called, her tone carrying a hint of mischief. "Abby will be free this weekend, and I was thinking you guys could link up for dinner."

I turned towards Abby, who blushed at the attention. I was caught off guard, I hesitated but managed to navigate the situation.

"I'd get back to you, I need to adjust my schedule and create time if I can," I replied smartly, shaking Abby's hand and heer cheeks flushed.

"Goodnight, Mama," I said, kissing my mother's forehead, and I bid Scarlett farewell.

When I left Delgado's mansion, I went straight to the clubhouse. When I got there, everywhere was buzzing with music and laughter as Pierre and Adonis welcomed me.

"Hey, Delgado!" Pierre raised his glass.

"The groom arrives," Adonis added with a smirk, enjoying the ongoing joke.

"I'm not a groom, stop teasing me. You're getting on my nerves," I said, taking a seat.

"Remind me why I'm friends with both of you again." I sighed, half amused and half frustrated.

"Well, because we can tolerate your sorry a*s," Pierre uttered, earning laughter from Adonis.

"How did it go? You finally liked the girl they brought this time around." Pierre asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

"Don't start with me, of course, I didn't. She is Victoria's secret angel," I said, dismissing the topic.

"What's wrong with her being Victoria's secret angel?" Adonis asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm done with women," I declared, surprising both Pierre and Adonis.

"Take that back, mate, how can you be done with women?" Pierre exclaimed dramatically.

"So you're into men now? Please don't fall in love with me, I can't do without p*ssy," Pierre teased, earning an eye roll from Adonis.

"Stop being dramatic," I said, attempting to clarify myself.

"So, what are you going to do now? Speak now. I understand you're gay, Adonis and I are willing to help you.

"Pierre," Adonis and I called simultaneously, shaking our heads at his thought.

"See why I said people don't value their helpers when they are right in front of them?" Pierre said he was enjoying the moment.

"I'm not gay, guys, I'm straight, you should know that by now," I clarified.

"Yeah, but how do you expect us to believe it is functioning properly when you avoid women like a plague?" Pierre asked, gesturing towards my lower region.

"This is so embarrassing," I muttered under my breath.

"It's not as embarrassing as your mom hooking you up with different women. Before you know it, you'd be recorded in the Guinness Book of World Records as the first man to go on dates for 45 years," Pierre said, laughing.

"You said you wanted to help me, but now you are making things worse. What kind of friend are you?" I sighed, realizing that, with friends like Pierre, this discussion is inevitable.

"Say, please," Pierre demanded, and I scoffed.

Adonis, seizing the moment, decided to add to the issues. "C'mon, sweet boy, say please."

"Fine, please," I grumbled, playing along with their absurd suggestions.

"Say it romantically, like I'm your Charlotte and you are my George. Do you love me?" Pierre continued, laughing stupidly..

"I'm not playing movie night with you, and stop quoting Queen Charlotte," I said, attempting to divert the conversation.

"Well, you can always get a fake girlfriend. I mean, pay someone to pretend to be your girlfriend, at least for six months or a year. Then, just when your mom thinks marriage is the next step, poof, you guys break up," Pierre suggested, outlining a plan.

"That, my friend, is a terrible idea," Adonis advised immediately.

"And then I'd pretend to be heartbroken for the whole year," I added.

"Fake girlfriend, I like the sound of that," I thought.