LOVE AND SECRET- THE BILLIONAIRE SECRET

LUCIANA'S POV

"_Mierde_," I let out softly in pent-up frustration as I looked at my phone screen, staring at yet another rejection notice. Funny how most of these white collar corporations make use of really similar words for these kinds of letters. They usually always begin with "We are sorry to say" or "We apologize for" or something along those lines. Always sorry, always apologizing. Not that they actually meant any of these anyway. Because, for people like me; the ones being rejected, we don't even truly register to these companies. We don't matter.

I put down the device on the cafe table in front of me and tighten my fists, my medium length nails digging into my palms. This was unfair- all of this. My eyes slowly begin to water as I will myself to snap out of it. The pain from my nails jolts me and brings me out of my thoughts.

"Breathe," I whisper to myself softly. "Just breathe, Luciana," I try again so I won't end up bawling in the middle of this almost unnoticeable, but charming little tea shop I just came across while walking the streets of Dublin.

My gaze catches the gray ones of the middle aged man sitting alone at the table adjacent to mine. He was the only other person in this tea shop, besides a young couple holding hands and whispering to each other a few seats away. We hold gazes for a few seconds longer, with neither of us even blinking. I simmer inside, waiting for him to stand up and come to me, to inquire if I'm okay, as so many others I've met have done, not that they ever really cared.

Nothing happens. He does continue to stare though, before his face slowly breaks into a small smile. And in the depths of his ashen eyes I see something akin to understanding and, perhaps, kindness.

I turn my eyes away from his and stare down at my table, my eyebrows coming together in a frown. As if on cue, the brown haired waitress who had taken my order a few minutes ago shows up beside me and places down my cup of tea gently on the table.

"Would that be all?" She asks with that familiar but faint Irish lilt to her words, her honey brown eyes staring at me with a professional smile plastered on her face.

"Yes, thank you," I responded quietly.

The waitress turns away while I pick up the cup and take a small sip. I sigh as my eyes flutter and close, trying to enjoy this moment. I feel better and calmer than I did a few moments ago. The tea helped and probably the kind smile I received from the older man sitting close to me. I need to pick myself up and try again at finding another corporation looking to hire. I can't continue doing these part-time jobs forever. Although, at this point, I probably am qualified to be called a part-time ancestor since I've been at this even before coming to Ireland a few months ago.

I chuckle. Part-time ancestor. What a dumb name. Sounds like something my ma could come up with. She's always been goofy, that one. Thinking about her now reminds me of how much I miss her, even though we talk almost every day. I really do miss her.

I sniff, my mood now taking a familiar downturn. I pick up my phone and text her a short greeting while downing the rest of my still hot tea. It burned, but I didn't really feel anything due to my mind being occupied by a lot of other thoughts.

After waiting for a few minutes for her to respond, she doesn't. I then proceed to place the money for the tea down on the table and pick up my purse. As I walk out of the quaint tea shop, my dark brown boots making slight noises as the heels meet the floor, I turn and stare again at the gray eyed man. As if feeling my gaze, he turns away from the newspaper he was reading and stares at me. Then he waved me goodbye, much to my surprise. I almost stumble, but I end up regaining myself and nod slightly at him before turning and walking through the glass door of the cafe.

The cold winter air rushes into my system as I step out, making me sneeze. I blow my nose with my hankie, and feel that familiar headache beginning to bear down on me. The cold almost always inflicts me with headaches of varying degrees. I'm still not sure why. Although I could find out if I went to the hospital for a check-up. But such expenses were really out of my budget for now.

I step onto the snow covered pavement and stare up at the sky which was beginning to darken, as is typical of winter. And, although it was really cold and this down jacket I wore wasn't quite warm enough, I turned my bare palm outwards and a few flakes of snow fell into it but soon melted due to my body heat. I breathe in the cold Dublin air shakily with my eyes closed, willing this city to be kinder to me.

A few hours later...

"...and then, Miss Sarah said my spellings were all correct, but Ryan had a few mistakes and he began to cry, mama," I held Rodri's hands carefully in mine while listening to how his day at school went as we walked home.

"What happened after he cried, chipmunk?" I inquired while softly dusting off the snow that lay on his adorable off-white beanie.

My son pouts, his adorable light brown eyes staring up at me, "I'm not a chipmunk, mama. You're always calling me that even when I tell you not to."

My lashes flutter, and then I smile gently at him. "Really?" I let out in false surprise. "I believe I forgot not to, my little chipmunk."

He pouts, but then smiles, his noticeably deep dimples showing on both cheeks. "You're so silly for always forgetting, mama. But it's alright. I'll always remember you." He says in his cute little voice while slightly skipping on the snow paved footpath.

I let out a small chuckle and pulled his little body up into a big bear hug. "Thank you, my little chipmunk," I whisper softly as I inhale the comforting scent of his milk-flavored hair shampoo.

"I love you the most, mama," he whispers back and lays his head on my shoulder after settling down from the giggles he had when I pulled him into the hug.

"Me too, my darling. Me too."

Rodri still lies in my arms, our conversation about Ryan's crying momentarily forgotten, although, knowing him, he will bring it up again later when he remembers and give me the entire gist.

I look up to see that we're already at our apartment building. The building is a slightly old residential one with four floors. We moved here immediately after arriving in Ireland five months ago. The rent was quite cheap, plus our apartment was small, but manageable for both of us, and it was in the quieter part of the city, so I decided to take it after the agent took me to three other apartments with higher rent prices. Over the course of the few months we've been here, I've grown to like this place. The serenity of it and a few of the neighbors themselves, although most of them were quite eccentric to say the least.

There is Old Joe who was half American and had spent most of his life in America. He was thorny and suspicious at first when she moved in. I had thought this was because he didn't like me, but later found out from Mary who lives on the first floor that he acted like that to every new tenant who moved in. There is Mary herself who is in her fifties and plays the role of a typical gossiping neighbor. But she's been really kind and welcoming so far, although a bit intrusive at times. There are the two Emma's who school at the University of Dublin. They'd moved in shortly before me and till date, no one knew if they were sisters, lovers, friends or just mere roommates. They live on the third floor, an apartment down from mine. There's also Lorcan and Claire, the friendly couple who live on the second floor. Lorcan is in his thirties and teaches at the Dublin University, while Claire is a beautiful part-time yoga instructor in her late twenties and full-time self proclaimed medium who's been trying to get me to take yoga lessons and come to her apartment for a séance since we became friends.

There are a few other neighbors in the building, some of whom I've never even seen since I first moved here. My next-door neighbor is one of them. Mary did tell me when I first moved in that he works as a surgeon in some private hospital and is almost always being called away for emergency surgeries. Although I've never seen him, I do hear faint sounds coming from his apartment occasionally.

I quickly walk up the few flights of stairs while still holding my son, trying to not make any loud noises to avoid attracting the attention of the other tenants. I wasn't really in a talking mood this evening. When I get to the first floor, I see Mary by the stairs about to go down, all wrapped up to prevent the cold air from getting to her body. I sigh slightly but still smile at her in greeting.

"Mary, hello," I say while putting down Rodri who was wriggling out of my hold, trying to get down.

"Oh my. Good evening, Luciana," she says, her clear green eyes crinkling up at the sides in a smile upon seeing me. "I wondered who was running up those stairs like that. So it was you".

I smile sheepishly and nod while I watch her talking to Rodri, asking him how his day went. He smiles and answers her and she pats his hair softly with a smile in response.

"Anyway, I need to go out for a bit. No more running. Most especially not when you're holding little Ro," Mary scolds in her soft motherly tone before walking down the same stairs I just climbed up.

I take my son's hand and we walk up the remaining stairs slower than we did before we got to our floor. As we walk past Claire's apartment, as we hear the faint sounds of music sung by a particular French singer she almost always listens to.

The cold greets us as we step into our small, mostly bare two bedroom apartment. Rodri's tiny body shivers and I quickly go to turn on the heater after turning on the lights. He lets out a small thank you while yawning in tiredness after his busy day at school. I picked him up and took him to his bedroom to get him out of those clothes and changed into house clothes after a warm bath.

LUCIANA'S POV

My phone rings as I help Rodrigo wash while he plays with his legion of yellow ducks in the bathtub. He stares at me, his eyes widened in surprise and anticipation. "Is it abuela?"

"I'm not sure, but let me check," I say while rinsing off the lather from my arms. " Don't drown yourself while I'm gone, little sailor".

He giggles and continues playing with his ducks while I step out of the bathroom quickly and pick up my still ringing phone. It was my mum calling. I accept the call and walk back to the bathroom to check on Rodrigo who is now flying the largest duck in his collection like an airplane. I cock my head in confusion trying to remember if ducks even fly.

"Baby, it really is your abuelita," I proceed to smile at Rodrigo who puts down his duck in excitement and claps happily in triumph.

"I knew it was her," his childish voice said, seeped with giggles which sounded magical like the chiming of bells or wind chimes.

"Rodrigo, _m'ijo_, how are you?" My mum's familiar voice comes out of the phone which I place on the washbasin and then go to finish up Rodrigo's bath.

"I'm fine, grandma. How are you?" He inquires while I softly massage the shampoo into his wavy raven black locks which look exactly like mine, albeit much shorter in comparison to my waist length ones and a little more straighter.

" Oh, honey, I'm doing alright. Mexico is treating me just fine," she responds affectionately. "Are you taking a bath?"

"Yes, grandma. Mama is done bathing me now though. How did you know that?" Rodrigo says doing his best not to bounce around with his always seemingly endless energy while I try to dry him up with a large towel.

My Ma chuckles and responds, "I used magic. Don't tell anyone, especially your mama".

My son stares at me with his honest honey-brown eyes and then tries to avoid my stare while speaking in a conspiratorial tone, " Don't worry, abuelita. I won't tell her. Cross my heart".

I roll my almond shaped dark brown eyes skyward at their silliness and walk into Rodri's bedroom, phone in hand, while the little conniver walks ahead of me to go pick out the pajamas he'd like to wear to bed. I sit on his tiny bed running my fingers over the Lilo and Stitch bedcover he practically "cute trapped" me into buying. I wasn't going to, but I really couldn't help myself, especially when he did that thing he always does with his doe eyes.

"Talking about heart," my madre voices out bringing me out of my thoughts, "I got Sheila to fix another blind date for you since you chose to forget to go for the last one and left your poor date waiting in the cold for hours," she continues, placing emphasis on the "forget".

I roll my eyes and sigh while looking at Rodrigo standing on the other side of the room, who, it seems, is confused between wearing his Donald Duck pajamas and the other one with miniature sized SpongeBobs plastered all over it. He ends up choosing the former, as I had already guessed he would and places the other one nearly into his nightwear drawer. I palm my forehead and chuckle. His obsession with ducks needs to be studied. He looks at me, his doe eyes widens in confusion, having heard my chuckle. I blink guiltily and avoid his eyes, trying to focus on the conversation with my madre.

"Mum, first off, what's heart got to do with a blind date? Secondly, I didn't leave him in the cold. I clearly remember repeatedly telling him beforehand I wasn't going to be coming for that date and yet, he chose to wait for me in the cold. What did he want? To guilt trip me or something?" I actively soften my voice towards the end, trying not to sound confrontational, so I won't end up hurting her feelings.

"Ah, m'ija," my mum sighs from the other end of the receiver, "Alright. I know it's not your fault he chose to go anyway. But still, you've not even gone to any of the blind dates I've been setting up for you in Mexico, and now, in Ireland. And God knows how hard it is to set up a blind date for you when I'm literally continents away from you. Sheila is already fed up at this point, since you end up not going to any of the dates I beg her to set you up on. She says it's giving her matchmaking services a bad name or something along those lines," my mum says the last part with a mocking tone and a slight scoff which I knew truly held no malicious undertones.

Her love hate relationship with Sheila never fails to baffle me. According to my sources- said sources being herself, Sheila and my father- it all started even before I was born, since their teenage days in highschool when they both fell for the same guy, a dude called Juan who was an aspiring musician back then. All this was before she met my father and ended up falling for him instantly on one of these so called blind dates. Probably why she pushes me to go on all of these blind dates.

"I really get that you want me to move on from Connor, but I'm too preoccupied with finding a job right now to actually focus on dating someone. Plus, there's Rodrigo to think about too. How do you think he would feel with a strange man suddenly intruding into our lives, ma?" I really lower my voice during the last part while staring at my son who has just finished buttoning his pajama shirt.

"I know that bastard ex of yours did a number on you, m'ija, but still. I just want you to find a good man, a really good one who will love and treasure you and my grandson like you both really deserve. You really need someone who will take care of you, and I just want to see you have that, you know. Just like your father did for me," my madre enthuses from the other end of the receiver, her voice a bit more muted and melancholic than it was a few moments ago.

I sigh shakily with my eyes closed. I feel Rodrigo's little body all warmed up from his bath nesting against me. I hug him closer with one arm, my other holding my phone up to my ear. This felt comforting. _He_ felt comforting.

"I understand where you're coming from, ma and I totally appreciate it, but I just need to focus on finding a job now. I've been working these underpaying part-time jobs for too long now, and I need something real, something more reliable, you know. Plus I've kind of grown tired of men for a while now," I speak out, no longer feeling that usual shaky feeling that overwhelms me whenever I hear about my father. My dead father.

"M'ija," my mum lets out a heavy sigh on the other end, "This topic of finding a new man which you've constantly been avoiding, I don't feel comfortable with it. I don't feel comfortable with it at all. It's like since that useless _cabrón_ you've chosen to stay away from men entirely. What's really going on?"

My lips purse and I begin to run my fingers through Rodrigo's hair to calm my turbulent emotions. "It's not got to do with men, mama. I'm just tired. That's all." The lie slips out of me quite easily, more easily than it used to.

And before she can continue this conversation which I really feel uncomfortable with, I decide to turn the topic away from me entirely. "We've been talking about me since, ma. But what about you? How have you been holding up since Rodrigo and I left?"

My mum's voice comes after a pause, the shortest of pauses, but still a pause. "I've been alright my little dove. I've been going to the community baking get-together with our new neighbor, Asa, a lot more than I used to. Plus there's this new young Priest at the Church who's quite cute and all the young ladies adore. The seats have been more filled whenever it's his turn to say Mass. Plus, Yuki, that beautiful Japanese lady who lives opposite us, remember her?"

I hum and mumble incoherent words even though I really don't remember her. I try to picture the house opposite ours back at home, but nothing really comes up.

"She's been teaching me how to make some of her country's delicacies like curry and..."

"But ma," I cut in on her, "I'm asking how you're doing, how you've been doing since his death," the last part comes out with a struggle, my voice sounding strangled and barely containing my emotions.

Rodrigo snuggles up closer against me and stares at me with his beautiful browns, his eyes wide, as they usually are, with a look I do not really understand. Pity? Empathy? Assurance?

I look at him longer while waiting for my mother's response. His tiny soft hands reach out slowly and enclasp my larger slender ones in his warm hold. I blink, surprised and then slowly, a smile breaks open on my face.

"Go pick up a book you want me to read for you tonight," I whisper softly to him away from the receiver, wishing I could capture this warmth forever, this feeling of my hand being held in his. He nods and lets go of my hand, then jumps off the bed, strutting towards his powder blue bookshelf which held all of his night-time stories and a few of his many puzzles. I stare at the palm he had held in his, feeling bereft.

"Well, I've been better, M'ija," she begins, pulling me away from my thoughts, in a strained voice which she tries to suppress by sounding more cheery. But I know. I can tell when she's faking it.

"But," she continues, her voice growing stronger and calmer at this part, "I'm going to be fine. Maybe not on some days, but on others I will be. It won't always be like this for me, you know. And neither should it be for you, my little dove".

I smile in relief. "Okay, mama," I responded, watching Rodrigo who was walking quickly towards me, trying his best and almost failing not to run. He's holding his copy of Andersen's "The Little Mermaid".

"I've got to go, M'ija. I love you," my mother says.

"I love you too, mama," I say beckoning on Rodrigo who was now sitting against me, patiently waiting with his book in his hands, to talk to his grandmother as well"

"Me too, abuelita. I love you," he says out loud, coming closer to the phone.

"Thank you, cariño," my mum says affectionately to Rodrigo, before she continues, "You both sleep well, okay? And we'll talk about this blind date again, Luciana. Don't you forget," she says the last part with that stern tone she always uses whenever she calls me by my first name.

I let out a small laugh and a "hmm" in acquiescence, although I didn't really agree.

"Goodnight, mama. Sleep well".

"Bye, abuelita. Goodnight," Rodrigo says as enthusiastically as ever, while he bounces on the bed, book still in his arms.

She ends the call and I place my phone on his bedside table decorated with some of his Lego toys and some tiny multi-colored duck plushies. We both lie down on the bed, with Rodrigo cuddling closer into my arms which I put around him. He gives me the book to begin reading like he did the night before and the night before that. This was our special ritual we'd adopted for as long as I can remember.

"The Little Mermaid, uhn. You prepared for a night of bawling and tears?" I tease him with a smile giving him a small nudge.

"I'm a big boy now, mama. I promise I won't cry anymore over a stupid little story," the little chipmunk says with a pout, his nose in the air, trying to look disdainful.

I roll my eyes and grin, "Stupid little story, you say? Okay then, mister. I better not see you crying at the end"

He huffs and nods, telling me to start reading to him. I do so, trying to make the story sound more interesting and dramatic by giving my voice a somewhat exaggerated dramatic tilt to the parts it felt fitting to.

"But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much," this part I said in a cleaner more melancholic tone like I always have whenever I read the book for Rodrigo.

He turns to me, his head resting on my chest and quietly asks a question he never has before, "Why do mermaids have no tears, mama?"

"Well, my love, in some folklore, mermaids do, in fact, have tears. These tears are said to be the sea glass you see lying around the beach or even pearls in some others. But, to me, I think writing that mermaids have no tears is the author's attempt to point out how much more suffering mermaids have inside even when they're sad since they're unable to cry because they're surrounded by saltwater. So, you couldn't even really tell if they cried. Imagine not being able to cry when you're very sad, wouldn't you feel even worse inside?" I point out, trying to explain this in a way that makes sense to a smart five year old.

Rodrigo draws circles with his index finger on my arm and nods, "Yes, I would, mama. The mermaid not being able to cry makes her feel even sadder. I wish I could give her a hug".

"Me too, baby," I say quietly, resting my chin on the top of his thick head of hair, "Me too".

LUCIANA POV

My phone which I'd forgotten at home rings just as I step into our apartment. I had just dropped off Rodrigo at school and stopped by the grocery store down the street on my way home to get a few things we were running low on. I couldn't afford other more pricey things because I was really strapped for cash.

"God, I really need a fucking job," I mutter with a sigh as I make my way to my still ringing device lying on the small dining table, after taking off my shoes at the door.

It was Madison calling.

"Where have you been, woman? I've been calling all year," Her lyrical voice says exasperatedly, with her Irish accent becoming more pronounced as it usually does whenever she's feeling strong emotions.

I chuckle slightly at her exaggeration and respond apologetically, "I'm so sorry, Maddy. I just had to drop Rodrigo off at school. And I might have forgotten to take my phone with me," the last part, I say in a smaller guilt filled tone.

"Ugh," she lets out in a playfully annoyed manner. "You know how you've been looking for a more stable job since, well, you came to Dublin..."

"...More like way before I even came here," I cut in as I made my way to the cream-coloured sofa sitting beside the small balcony in our living room which came with the apartment. I stand at the balcony, overlooking the almost empty street, my body resting against the rusted railing as I stare at the street, my eyes not really focusing on anything.

"Well, it's true. Anyway, There was an opening for the Financial Secretary position to Eamon MacCarthy, our Sales Manager. And I told him about you. And guess what? He agreed to give you an interview today".

My arms almost slipped off the railing and I started to panic, "Wait, you mean today. Like today, today?"

"Umm, yeah. What other day is there, honey? Get your ass over here quickly and try to be here in two hours tops, woman. I really want you to get this job, you know. I'll be rooting for you. The boss just stepped in and everyone's trying to act more coordinated and all so I gotta go. Bye, love you. Call me when you finish the interview," she immediately ends the call in a rush after that before I can respond.

My breathing becomes heavier as I literally begin to panic, but I also feel elated and full of anticipation and anxiety. I need to get dressed quickly and get a cab since my car is sitting in the mechanic's and has been for the past few days.

I make a dash for the bedroom, my mind going through a million thoughts, with the most prominent being what exactly I would wear to the interview.

°°°

I stepped into the air-conditioned larger-than-life building which was the headquarters of Maverick Corporation sitting right in the middle of the busiest part of town. I couldn't even imagine the amount of rent they paid each year to keep this place. I cringe at my dumb thoughts. A multi billion dollar company like this would most probably not need to pay rent, since they most likely own this place.

I walk towards the reception, my low heeled platforms making a dull sound as they meet the clear tiled floor of the building which was gleaming white like everything else in here; the walls and furniture I could see on the ground floor included. Of the two female receptionists, the beautiful blonde one closest to me gives me a professional smile, her sky blue eyes looking at me warmly, as she inquires politely, "Good morning, miss. Are you here to see someone?"

I feel my olive toned complexion turning red in a blush which was quite rare for me. I clear my throat and respond in what I hope is a calm voice, "Yes. I have an interview with the Sales Manager for the position of Financial Secretary"

"Ah, yes," her blue eyes widened in realization and something I presume looks akin to pity. She quickly schools her features back into her professional mask and smiles again before I have time to decipher her earlier expression.

"Have a seat while I ring Mr. MacCarthy and inform him of your arrival, miss?"

"Alejandro. Luciana Alejandro," I respond and watch her nod before I turn and walk up to one of the seats reserved for visitors at the reception.

"Would you like a cup of tea or a drink while you wait, Miss?" The other receptionist, a baby-faced brunette with large brown eyes which reminded me of Rodrigo's, inquiries.

"No, thank you," I answered while sitting down in the seats which were also white in color. This place looks so large, formal, and daunting. I run my sweaty palms over my charcoal black slacks while I anxiously watch the blonde secretary making the call to who I presume is the Sales Manager.

After about ten seconds of waiting which, to me, felt like the longest ten seconds of my entire life, she places down the telephone and turns to me with a smile.

"You may go up for your interview, Miss Alejandro. The eighth floor. Third door to your left. You can't miss it. Good luck" .

I thank her quietly before walking towards the empty lift. After pressing the button for the floor I was directed to, I sigh heavily and lean against the wall of contraption, my heart beating really fast due to the anxiety I felt right now. I still remembered the look of pity which flashed through the receptionist's eyes when I mentioned my interview with the Sales Manager. I wait for the device to get to the eighth floor, silently praying that I get this job.

I follow her instructions when I get to the eighth floor and soon face large wooden double doors which I knock on twice before hearing a faint "Come in".

I open one of the doors and walk in slowly, praying to whatever god can hear me, not to trip over the carpet and have a whole Anastasia Steele moment which would quite literally kill me if that were to happen right now. Behind the only large wooden desk in the office sits a dark haired man who looks to be in his mid thirties. His stern dark blue encased in glasses look even sterner as they take me in before he turns away from me and points a palm towards a seat on the opposite side of the table facing his.

"Hello, I'm Luciana Alejandro," I say while sitting in the comfortable leather office seat. "Thank you for agreeing to interview me".

He looks at me blankly, his face masking any emotions he may have, making me unable to tell what he thinks of me.

"Your friend didn't give me much of a choice, Miss Alejandro," his smooth and deep voice which sounds slightly American comes out with a brow raised while he continues to study me.

"I'm sorry about that," I say sheepishly and I look down at my trousers before raising my eyes back up to meet him.

"I've gone through your files. They were given to me by your friend. And I saw that you've done a few jobs in sales, but nothing this large-scale. Moreover, you've been out of a stable job for a few years now. I need a Financial Secretary though, a stable one. Not a Sales Assistant or Sales Rep. But, from your reports I've seen, you seem able to do the job. Tell me, what made you do only part-time jobs for such a long time?"

I try to straighten my back a bit as I respond, "I was dealing with a few things, a really bad breakup and then the sudden death of my father. I just felt overwhelmed and all. I have been trying to get a job though, a full-time one. But no company has accepted me".

He squints at me, his dark blue eyes intimidating me as he does that. I try not to flinch or break eye contact. I really hope I wasn't failing at the not flinching part though.

"As my financial secretary, you will work five days a week with a monthly pay and allowances. There's also health insurance attached to the job. Also, should you work overtime, you will be paid for the work. And do not forget, Miss Alejandro, besides the CEO, you will report to me and only to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir. Wait, so I got the job?" I ask, barely controlling my shaky voice, my brain slowly trying to process all of this.

"Yes, you do. You're qualified for it, just like many others who came before you. But you also seem like you need it. And people who need things, more often than not, end up working harder at them than those who don't. And you will work hard, won't you, Miss Alejandro?" He asks, gaze boring into mine, his voice making his statement seem more oppressive.

"Gracias! Oh thank you so much, Mr. MacCarthy," I switched back to English having mistakenly used Spanish like I usually do when I'm excited. I really could hug him right now from happiness, forgetting his intimidating nature and all.

He looks at me with the same blank unimpressed look on his face and l settle down. Definitely no hugging. He would probably exterminate me or call the feds if I pulled that kind of stunt. I do wonder how he managed to become the sales manager with a blank face like that though.

"You'll begin tomorrow, Alejandro. Your office is the one directly opposite mine. Make sure to come early so I'll brief you on your duties in this department. You may be excused". At that, he turns away from me, signaling the end of the conversation, and focuses on the documents lying in front of him.

"Alright. Thank you". I step out of his office as quietly as I came in and make a quick phone call to Madison. She doesn't pick up, but texts me in response after a few minutes as I step into the elevator, telling me to meet her at the cafe opposite the company's building.

As I step out of the elevator and walk past the reception, the blonde receptionist gives me a warm relieved smile and a quiet goodbye, while the brunette one is busy speaking to someone on the telephone. I respond with an equally warm smile and make my way out of the building, crossing the street towards the Cafe.

A nice woodsy scent greets me as I walk into the shop and my eyes take notice of the decor which was mostly wood. I immediately spot Madison's blazing red hair. She sits at a table not too close to the door of the cafe waving at me, her beautiful azure eyes smiling at me. I wave back at her and walk towards the table. .

"How's my beautiful bestie doing? Did you get the job?" She asks excitedly, her eyes staring at me in anticipation. "I ordered a pumpkin spice latte for you, by the way," she adds, pointing towards the steaming cup of coffee sitting on the table opposite her, as I settle into the seat facing hers.

"Well, I got the job," I say with a shit eating grin plastered across my face, locking eyes with her sky blues.

She lets out something that sounds like a barely suppressed squeal and holds my hand while blasting me with questions, "How did the interview go? Did MacCarthy come on too strong? I've heard he does that and even makes some people applying for the post cry when leaving his office. Tell me everything".

"Cry?" I blink surprised, "I mean, I was trying hard not to squirm under his gaze. That dude was really intimidating and so hard to read. But, he certainly wasn't making me cry. "Anyway," I continued, answering her questions, "The interview was actually quite brief. Plus he said he had gone through my documents already, so yeah. And he didn't come in too strong," I take a sip of my latte and continue after the pause, "I mean, he asked the most basic questions any interviewer would. He didn't even ask me many questions. The only thing was his blank face throughout the interview and his seemingly no nonsense persona. Other than that, Maddy, he was alright".

Madison nods her head, her eyes widened in surprise. "The horror stories I've heard about that man," she shudders while speaking. "They say after the CEO, he's the next person you should fear most in the office. But, I don't believe all that bull crap. He's really not like our gentle handsome boss at all. I mean the difference is literally there in his face that looks as though it's been struck with facial paralysis. Although he's not that bad looking, the boss's looks are more my taste than his.

"I'm really happy you got the job though, Luci. The position for Financial Secretary has been open for a while now since the last one was fired by MacCarthy after trying to seduce him in the office. What a tramp". She snorts at that last part and takes a long sip from her cup of coffee.

I nod with a smile, trying to digest all the information I'd just gotten, "Thanks Maddy".