Page 22 of Bound to You

She stands upright, her tiger stripes crinkling as she frowns. “You’re lying.”

“Nope, genetics unfortunately.”

“Well genetics won’t do. I was hoping for a piggyback the rest of the way. Where’s a real hunk?” She puts her hand up to her brow like she’s really searching.

“Funny,” I say before I pick her up and chuck her over my shoulder. She screams in protest, but I just keep my hand on the skirt of her dress so she doesn’t flash half the town.

And that dress...she looks fucking good in that little blue dress. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her when I first saw her in the lobby. My feet walked over to her before my brain could catch up. Like I said, whirlpool.

“Caio! Put me down!”

“This is your fault.” As if she’s going to backhand insult me and not expect me to prove her wrong.

Her phone buzzes in the pocket of her dress—I didn’t even know that dresses had pockets—conveniently saving her. I put her down so she can answer. She puffs looking at the screen before she quickly declines the call, turns her phone off, and puts it back in her pocket.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but she waves me on. “Let’s go, Hercules.”

For most people,the start of the business week is a big sigh. Sunday evening is spent thinking about the fact that tomorrow is Monday and come 9:00 a.m., it's back to work.

But Monday mornings in my world are quiet and calm. I like to start the week off well, so in the last couple of years I’ve made it a priority to leave Monday mornings for myself. The meetings and budgets can wait till midday, and instead, I spendmy mornings slowly, reading the local newspaper before making sure to dedicate some time towards keeping my apartment clean. It’s an important part of my routine as I work better in a clean space. If I have paperwork or mess littering my space, I get distracted from the task at hand and spiral into overworking mode. Which, if I’m honest, I’ve been doing too much of lately. Yesterday was the first day in months that I’ve gone out for something not entirely work related. I had been debating going since getting home on Saturday, but my mind was made up as soon as I saw Isla standing in the lobby.

I grab the few coffee mugs that I have lying around, stacking them in the dishwasher before letting out a satisfied sigh. All done.

I never used to do it. In fact, I used to work seven days per week on a regular basis, so the whole work-life balance is a concept I’ve only implemented in my life over the last few years. I can admit I’m a workaholic, but honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if my friends do feel like they have to drag me away from this place every now and then.

I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I didn’t get here by chance or luck, and I’m proud of that. But earlier in the piece, when I was still establishing the place, I got to the point where I would rarely leave the hotel. I took on too much and the burnout hit me harder than I’d expected. To be honest, my head was so buried under the pile of work that I didn’t even realize I had burnt out at all. I was running on coffee and determination for far too long.

It took Rafael being a fucking dick and dishing out some harsh words for me to get my shit together and realize I had crossed the line into overworking. I hired more staff and was able to share all of the responsibilities I’d been carrying by myself for too long.

It’s a fine line I was walking and sometimes I still cross it, but now I’m able to recognize it for what it is and regain my balance again. Prioritizing taking time for myself, even if that means going for a run, or simply getting out of the hotel for a change in scenery. But nothing has ever meant more to me than this hotel.

Sometimes I still feel like I have something to prove. When I left home, I wanted to prove to myself and to my parents that I could do it, that I could build a life for myself, away from their influence and their expectations, and I did. I proved it, and I know it’s crazy, but sometimes I still feel like it isn’t enough. Like maybe if I work just that little bit harder, I’ll be worthy of more. And then there’s that pesky little gap that still bothers me. Even though I feel like I’ve done all I could do, something is still missing. Despite all of the hours I’ve put into Hotel Dolce and the success I’ve found with it, it’s not as fulfilling as I always thought it would be.

But I can’t look back. It’s not my family that I miss. I grieved for them, and for the young boy who wanted their validation so much that he would do anything they asked of him, but any trace of that boy is gone. He disappeared the day his parents abandoned him. As I built my life here, I found a new family, found a new home, built a life I’m endlessly proud of myself for making, and realizing their validation wasn’t needed for me to succeed was one of the best lessons I ever learned. But sometimes, I still look back at that boy and wish he didn’t have to go through what he did to learn that.

I findmyself on the floor beneath mine an hour later. After cleaning my apartment, I was itching to busy myself. I’d alreadydusted, mopped the floors, and cleaned all the hard surfaces, leaving my place spotless. So I left, wanting to give myself something else to do before I started scrubbing the baseboards.

I’m standing in front of Isla’s door contemplating what I’m doing here. I saw Isla yesterday, and I shouldn’t necessarily be here, but…whirlpool.

I rap my knuckles against the door, and step back to wait.

Isla opens the door, surprise written all over her face when she sees me standing in front of her.

“Hi.” It’s almost a question.

“Hey,” I say, feigning confidence.

“What are you doing here?”

I hear May’s voice yell from far away. “Who is it?”

“It’s Caio,” Isla yells back before looking back to me.

“I forgot to ask you when I saw you yesterday, how are you finding the room?” I ask her about the one thing I can without my appearance seeming weird—the hotel.

“So good!” May’s voice shouts back, causing me to chuckle.

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