Page 21 of One Week To Claim It All
“You’re not even going say goodbye to me, Esmeralda?” he growled, hot on her heels.
“Goodbye,” she said as she made her way to the entrance of the building. She tapped in the code for the door and soon they were inside the small but well-appointed lobby of her building. He had no idea what he was doing, but he just could not let her go.
“You’re being unreasonable. This is my life,” he hissed as she walked into an alcove by the door.
She came to a dead stop as his angry words resounded in the space and spun on him so quickly they almost crashed into each other. “And this ismy life, Rodrigo. I didn’t ask to be Patricio’s daughter or tell him to do what he did in his will. But Iamshooting my shot.” She laughed and it sounded broken. “I want this, Rodrigo. I have ambitions. Don’t you think I wish things were different? I...” Her voice broke and she lifted her eyes to the ceiling, blinking fast. “I’m sorry this is the hand we’ve both been dealt. And I really thought that we could, that maybe—”
But whatever she was about to say died in the space between them. “You know what, never mind what I thought.”
She turned again and walked over to the elevator as he stood there rooted to the floor. Unable to go after her, but not wanting to leave without fixing what was happening between them. He wanted to know what it was she wouldn’t say. But as soon as the door opened their chance to talk was drowned out by a familiar cacophony ofholasandmijas. And he was screwed, because Ivelisse Peña and her three sisters all came out of the elevator, a swarm of Dominican aunties heading straight for him.
“Niña, why didn’t you tell me Rodrigo was coming over?” Esme’s mother cried as she engulfed him in a hug. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, but like his mother, what she lacked in stature she more than made up for in temperament.
She put her hands on either side of his face and he bent down so she could kiss him on the cheek. “Ivelisse, it’s been a minute.”
She clicked her tongue, pulling back so she could get a good look at him. “Too long.” She patted him on the cheek and pursed her lips in a sad expression. “You got Gloria’s face. Verdad?” she asked her sisters, who promptly gave him more hugs. He felt starved for touch. But even with these women loving on him he felt cold and bereft, because the only person he wanted, the only hands he yearned for, belonged to the woman who was standing off to the side looking miserable.
He took a step back as Ivelisse asked him questions about his brother. “Marquito’s good. Loves his job,” he said with a smile he was certain didn’t reach his eyes. He was proud of his brother, but he couldn’t get excited about anything in that moment. He needed to leave. Walking in here after Esmeralda had been a terrible idea. “Listen, Ive, it was good seeing you, but I have to get going. I just came to drop off Esme.”
Ivelisse was a wily woman and the mere mention of her daughter’s name seemed to wake up her spidey senses. Instantly her gaze was shifting back and forth between the two of them as if she was picking up a signal from inside their heads.
“I’m not letting you out of this building until you come up and have a cafecito with us. Esmeralda, what are you doing standing there in a corner looking mad? Ven, mija.” She waved over her only child, who indeed looked very unhappy to be in this tableau.
“I have my driver outside,” Rodrigo pleaded, knowing Esme probably didn’t want him anywhere near her.
But Ivelisse would not be dissuaded. “Rebeca, go tell the driver Rodrigo’s going to come up for a visit.”
And that’s how he found himself sitting in Esmeralda’s living room getting plied with coffee and Dominican pastries during the middle of a workday.
Fourteen
Esmeralda wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Because she was pretty sure she reeked of sex and was now surrounded by her mother and all her aunts while they cooed over Rodrigo, who also probably reeked of sex. They were sitting on her mother’s love seat while the older women ran around setting out food for the honored guest. Because God forbid a male visitor came to the house and they didn’t serve him an elaborate feast like he was a freaking emperor.
“Esmeralda, mamita, what did those pastelitos ever do to you? Stop looking at my food like it offended you.” Her mother thought she was cute. But if she didn’t stop glaring Ivelisse would pick up on the fact that something was wrong. And her mother was not above asking her twenty questions in front of company.
“Sorry, Mami,” she mumbled and leaned in to grab a cheese pastelito. She was annoyed but also hungry and the fried cheese-filled pastry would at least put her in a more amenable mood. When she leaned back into the couch, next to freaking Rodrigo, her hand accidentally grazed his thigh. His hard and very muscular thigh, which she’d been astride just an hour ago...before he reminded her again that he was not interested in anything other than pushing her out. She expected him to be put out, or bored, looking at his watch, desperate to leave their small apartment, but he appeared totally at ease with arms splayed over the back of the couch. He should feel out of place here in his five-thousand-dollar suit and expensive haircut. But somehow, he fit.
“I’m heading out soon,” he said against her ear, and her body flooded with heat. “I just didn’t want to be rude to Ive.”
She exhaled and turned to him. “It’s fine. It’s not like they would’ve taken no for answer.”
At that precise moment her mother walked out from their little kitchen carrying a tray laden with steaming cups of café con leche. Rodrigo sprung up from the couch as soon as he saw her, his arms extended to get the tray from her. “Ivelisse, you should’ve called me, I would’ve brought this out for you.” Her mother waved him off, but happily handed him the heavy tray.
“You were always such a helpful boy.” She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek as he handed cups to Esmeralda’s aunts. Something about her mother’s expression gave Esme pause. She looked regretful, like she always did whenever Rodrigo was in the picture.
“Rebeca, how’s the teaching gig? Are you still up at Gregorio Luperón?” Esme’s aunt perked up at Rodrigo’s question about her beloved students. Esmeralda seriously resented the ball of warmth pulsing in her chest at the fact that he remembered the high school her aunt worked at.
“It’s a roller coaster,” Rebeca answered with a laugh. “Teaching those math kids that the arts are also important is always a struggle. But I keep trying.”
“If anyone’s going to get through to them it’s you,” he told Rebeca with a fond smile. By that point every one of the older women was riveted by him. And Esme couldn’t blame them. The man was a walking, talking sex dream. Her hands twitched as that sculpted chest flashed in her mind. He was back to looking picture-perfect. Only an hour earlier she’d had her hands all over him. She’d kissed that generous mouth, nipped at his neck.
Yeah. She needed to calm down.
“I might be able to give you hope,” Rodrigo said to Rebeca after taking a huge bite of pastelito. She really had to stop staring at his mouth. “My mentee just started his first year in the NYU film studies program and he went to Luperón.”
“You still do that?” Esmeralda interrupted. “The Big Brother program, I mean.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself and soon four sets of eyes were on her.
Rodrigo turned his gaze to her and the intensity there was enough to make her fan herself. “Yeah, I do.” He nodded, eyebrows furrowed.
