Page 19 of One Week To Claim It All
“Is this the stuff that Carmelina swore I would not touch?” she asked mischievously.
“That’s exactly what it is.” He was grinning now, especially because Esme was giving him one of those “I don’t want to be impressed, but I still am” looks.
“I assumed she had called anyone who could let me see the footage to warn them off.”
“Carmelina thinks the only way to win is to be a bully,” he said with a wave of his hand. “People do what she says not out of respect, but fear. The only way someone like me gets ahead is remembering that relationships are the biggest asset I have.”
He lifted a shoulder, looking around the small room as she digested his words. “A few years ago, when the theater needed some funds to buy equipment to keep their archives in a climate-controlled space, I helped them. When Carmelina forbade the studio from giving you access to the footage, I remembered Piera had asked for copies to keep in the archives. So, I called in a favor.”
“That’s pretty devious, Rodrigo Almanzar,” she said, a tiny conspiratorial smile forming on her lips.
“I’m not just a pretty face, Esmeralda,” he joked, eliciting a laugh from her as he guided her to the front of the room. His hand pressed to the small of her back as she took everything in. The room was small, with only about a dozen large plush reclining chairs facing a large screen. There was a table at the front of the room laden with the things he’d ordered.
He knew the moment she saw it because she did a double take. “Is that...mofongo and champagne?” she asked as a goofy grin appeared on her face.
“It’s lunchtime. And El Malecón is right across the street. It used to be your favorite,” he said soberly, but it was getting harder and harder not to match her delighted expression.
She clicked her tongue as she took the few steps to the table, inhaling as she reached it. It did smell amazing. “It’s very hard to remember we’re supposed to be archrivals when you’re being this nice.”
Rodrigo seriously gave her whiplash. One moment he looked horrified at the suggestion that they were a couple and the next he’s walking her into a private theater with her favorite dish and champagne on a literal silver platter.
“Who pairs plantains and Moët, Rodrigo?” she asked, feigning an annoyance she didn’t feel while he poured her some of the chilled bubbly.
“Bougie Dominicans, Esmeralda,” he quipped as he passed her the glass, and she could see the smile tugging at the side of his own mouth.
She raised the glass to her lips and it occurred to her the fizz of the bubbles were already under her skin before the liquid touched her lips. Rodrigo always did that to her, made her body effervescent with energy. One look, one word and she could forget all the ways in which he was never a good idea. But one thing she could not deny was that he got her. Rodrigo understood what made her tick like no one else ever had. And this ridiculous and perfect lunch choice was only further evidence of that. Again the questions balled up in her throat.
Are we going to just walk away from each other again? Are we going to let my victory steal this from us? Are you not feeling like your world got turned upside down last night, too?
But she didn’t ask a single one. She would not spill her guts just to have Rodrigo pick Sambrano Studios over her...again. “I guess it is lunchtime, we might as well eat,” she said a little too brightly, reaching for one of the little white plates next to the platters of food. She placed a ball of mashed plantains and chicharron on it. Then she sat down on the stool he’d pulled out for her.
“I know what happens when you get hangry,” he teased as she took a big bite.
“Jerk,” she grumbled through a mouthful of mofongo, but she was too content for it to hold any real animosity. “Mmm...perfect mofongo is perfect.”
He nodded, looking a bit too pleased with himself, as he watched her eat. She felt the heat from his stare warm her skin. But in the next moment he settled down with his lunch, and soon they were both tucking into the delicious food. Once she was done, she poured herself a fresh glass of bubbly and walked over to one of the plush leather armchairs in front of the gigantic screen.
Rodrigo fussed around for a moment, pushing the small table to a corner of the room. Then he turned off the lights, leaving them in total darkness for a moment before the screen lit up.
She turned around to look at him, but she could only make out his shadow as he walked over to her. “I’m nervous,” she confessed, as conflicting emotions swirled through her. Rodrigo’s eyes softened at her confession, and even if everything about these last few days felt murky and confusing, she knew he got why she was feeling that way.
“It’ll be good, Joya,” he said, reaching for her hand. And dammit, that was exactly what she needed. Something to ground her. And with his strong hand clutching hers she felt ready. He’d been this person for her so many times in her life. And she would be lying to herself if she didn’t recognize that she’d missed his steadiness. The way he seemed to almost instinctually knew what to say or do.
“Are you ready?” he asked so gently it was barely a whisper.
She nodded as tears crawled up her throat, but the sound of her father’s voice saved her from having to say anything other than a hoarse thank-you. She sat back to watch the oral history of what her father had built. It was a whirlwind of emotions, so much sadness and regret for what she never got to say to or ask him. She wished he could’ve been a different man, but right beside that disappointment there was admiration and an undeniable affinity.
The thirtysomething Patricio Sambrano who had set out to create something that had never been done before really was a kindred spirit. There was a fire in those brown eyes Esmeralda recognized at a bone-deep level. She may not have been the child he raised or recognized, but his ambition and drive were in her blood. He’d dreamed big and made it happen and she would do the same.
By the time the screen went dark she was dizzy with the onslaught of ideas the interviews and footage had given her. Rodrigo had been right, this was exactly what she needed to see to finally get the pieces of what she would present the board to come together. She’d known what she wanted for the future of Sambrano, and in a way it eased her to know that the Patricio from the early days would likely approve of her choices. Even though he’d let her down, he’d left her a legacy that was worth preserving. More than that, she wanted to finish what Patricio had set out to do and had not managed to achieve: make Sambrano Studios a representation of all that Latinx people were.
She turned to Rodrigo, who was still quietly sitting beside her, and all she felt was a wave of overwhelming gratitude. No one else would’ve done this for her. But he’d known, he understood why she needed to see these interviews. Even after a two-minute conversation last night he’d known. He’d done what was best for her, even when it meant hurting his own chances to stay on as CEO.
Rodrigo Almanzar really was a good man. Before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you,” she whispered against his lips. She had too many emotions coursing through her to find the right words. Without wasting any time he brought her to his lap, deepening the kiss. And soon the soft grateful embrace turned into something torrid and urgent.
His chest rumbled with a possessive sound and his fingers gripped her waist. “Rodrigo.” She gasped, already so caught up in him she could barely remember where she was. She ground herself against him, feeling his hardness against her core, just a few layers of fabric keeping her from what she needed. She was astride him now, knees on either side of his muscular thighs, rocking into him, needy and urgent.
“Unbutton your blouse,” he ordered, and that commanding growl made wet heat pool at the apex of her thighs. “I want to see your breasts.”
