Page 7 of One Week To Claim It All
Five
“I’m only here to look through some of these files. It’s easier than going back and forth. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”
Rodrigo stopped short when he found Esmeralda in his office with what looked like every single one of his programming binders sprawled over his meeting table. She’d arrived yesterday morning as if the previous day’s boardroom blowout—and that almost-kiss—never happened and placidly asked for him to show her around. And as the board, and the whole world, expected him to, he did his job. He’d gotten her set up, and ever since they’d given each other a wide berth.
Well, physically at least, because so far, he hadn’t been able to go more than a minute without thinking about her. From where he stood in the doorway he could see she was looking through news clippings and show features from 2001, and had plastered sticky notes on a few others. It looked like she’d been at it for hours. It was barely 7:00 a.m.
“How long have you been here?” He looked at her again and noticed she was wearing different clothes than yesterday, so she must’ve gone home. Today she had on a pencil skirt in a deep burgundy and a heather-gray blouse. Her Gucci stilettos were off her feet and toppled over on the floor next to her. Her hair was in a top bun, smoothed back with her baby hair feathered out. He smiled when he saw the gold hoops in her ear. A Washington Heights girl through and through. Rodrigo thought to himself that Esmeralda would be good for this company, even if it was not as CEO.
“Mmm, maybe a bit over an hour,” she said distractedly, as if that didn’t mean she’d arrived literally at dawn. She looked up from the notes she was jotting down and took him in. Her face was bare, no makeup except for a little bit of lip gloss. She looked fresh and young, and so damn beautiful. Always so beautiful...and intense.
“There’s so much to go over. I still don’t have a full sense of what I’m going to do for the presentation, and the clock is ticking.” She pointed at him, but the hostility wasn’t there anymore, or at least it wasn’t there now. “I meant what I said, Rodrigo. I’m fighting for it.”
He shook his head, noticing the small smile tugging at her lips and he wished everything in him didn’t react to her every word as deeply as it did. “I never expected for you to not give me a fight.”
He had to watch himself very carefully with Esmeralda, because cordial was all well and good, but he could not even for a moment give her the impression this wasn’t a fight to the death. “I enjoy a good competition. Here,” he said, lifting up the bag in his hand. “I brought you something.”
She eyed the bag suspiciously but when she saw the logo, a grin immediately appeared on her face. “You went to La Nueva?” she asked as he walked over to the table and placed the parcel in front of her on the table.
“It’s in my neighborhood.”
She gave him a suspicious look as she glanced at the contents. “You got me the cream cheese and guayaba Danish. How did you remember?” She sounded almost affronted he still knew what her favorite pastry was from the bakery they’d gone to as kids.
“You never ordered anything else in the thousand times we went there.” Esmeralda may have forgotten that they had been in each other’s lives from day one, but he never would. They were tied to each other and always would be. Their mothers had been best friends, but it had always been more than that. Hell, in those days where everything seemed to be falling apart after his father had lost everything to gambling, Ivelisse had been the one to help his mother pick up the pieces.
It had always seemed so wrong to him that Esmeralda could never be a part of Patricio’s life. She lived in a small apartment and went to the neighborhood Catholic school, while her half-siblings lived in a Park Avenue penthouse and went to boarding school in Switzerland. Although for the most part that meant she was untouched by all the Sambrano drama, protected by a mother who could clearly see how that world could taint her daughter. And here she was now, a determined, strong woman, still blowing him away with that fire of hers. And he hoped that the tough exterior matched what was inside, because he would crush her hopes for that CEO position. There was no other option.
“We didn’t go a thousand times,” she muttered through a mouthful of pastry. He’d always enjoyed watching her eat. Esmeralda was not dainty or shy about what she loved. She took big bites and gulped things in—unapologetically ravenous for what brought her pleasure. There had been a time he’d been what pleased her the most, before he’d ruined everything with his need to do his duty despite who got hurt in the process. Before Patricio’s refusal to see through Carmelina’s lies.
He would never forget that day. He’d made up a story at work about scoping out some potential talent in LA and gotten on a Thursday-night redeye to spend three days with Esme. On Friday they’d driven out to Laguna Beach and eaten ceviche and drank cold beer in a restaurant on the water. Their Saturday plans to go to the Getty Villa had been completely ignored, and instead he’d kept her in bed until the afternoon. It had been all the more perfect because those moments were just theirs. They’d kept their relationship secret, because they’d both known that once their families knew it would be out of their hands. But he’d been hopeful in those few days, and foolish enough to think that the love they had for each other could endure anything. He had been so wrong.
On the Sunday morning his mother’s plea for help on behalf of Ivelisse Peña shattered the joy of those few days. Gloria had delivered the news in hushed tones over the phone, telling him that on Friday Esmeralda’s mother had received a notice saying she had one week to vacate the apartment she lived in. All because Carmelina had gotten in Patricio’s head and he’d decided to turn the mother of his firstborn on the street.
Without telling Esmeralda why—Ivelisse had begged him not to tell her daughter what was happening until she at least had a new place to live—he’d jumped on a plane back to New York to intercede with Patricio. He’d found the man in his office, drunk off his head raving about paternity tests and Ivelisse being a liar. When Rodrigo finally got him sobered up enough to explain, Patricio showed him the “test” Carmelina had produced as evidence that Esmeralda was not his child.
Knowing Carmelina, Rodrigo had made quick work of discovering that his mentor’s wife had fabricated the whole thing. He’d tried to call the laboratory that supposedly had done it, and confirmed the place didn’t exist. But the damage was already done and it was twofold, because as Rodrigo worked to help Ivelisse, the truth about the nature of his relationship with Patricio’s daughter came to light. And so did the price he’d have to pay to make sure Esmeralda never found out the real reason her father had forced Ivelisse out of their home.
Rodrigo had risked his job, his mother’s treatment and Patricio’s help getting the Almanzar family out of the debt his father had sunk them into. Once his mentor figured out he was in love with Esme, Patricio demanded that Rodrigo end it. The older man had been furious, flying into a rage about Rodrigo keeping things from him, of going behind his back.
Rodrigo had taken all the insults and humiliation; he’d had no choice. But before he fell on the sword Patricio set for him, he asked for one last thing. One final guarantee that Carmelina could never attempt to do what she’d done again, then he gave Esmeralda up.
If it had only been him, he would’ve walked away from everything to be able to keep her. But he couldn’t do it then, and he certainly could not now. At least he’d protected her from Carmelina’s vicious schemes and saved his own family.
Ten years later, knowing all the pain they’d both endured, he wondered if it had all been worth it.
“I didn’t know you’d moved back Uptown.” Esmeralda’s voice brought Rodrigo back from his distressing trip down memory lane.
“I bought a brownstone in Sugar Hill a couple of years ago,” he said as he sipped his café con leche and watched her eat. She gave him a wry look as she chewed like she couldn’t quite figure out why he’d done that. Seven years ago, right after he’d taken the position of chief content officer for Sambrano, he’d bought himself an obnoxious condo in a building downtown. He’d gotten it because it seemed like the kind of place that successful people in movies about New York City seemed to live in, but it never fit him. When his mother’s illness came back a couple years earlier he made the move so he could be closer to her. “It’s nice to be back in the old neighborhood.”
She looked at him suspiciously, still picking at her Danish. “You’re only like ten blocks from Mami and me.”
He wasn’t sure if it was a statement of fact or a rebuke, but for the sake of his own sanity, he decided to veer off the subject of their parents and their history. It was pure survival instinct at this point. He pulled a chair from the table she was sitting at, far enough away that he wouldn’t be tempted to reach over and clean the crumbs of pastry that were adorably stuck to the side of her mouth.
“Did you see Octavio’s invitation for the reception tonight?” he asked, leaning back on the chair, his eyes still stuck on her mouth as her tongue lapped at the crumbs. It would be a miracle if he managed to keep his head this week. Everything about this woman was appealing. His eyes roamed over her body; her ample bosom looked downright sinful in that tailored blouse that was unbuttoned far enough he could see the plunge of her breasts. Through the fabric he caught a glimpse of the lace of her bra, and he had to cross his legs to keep from embarrassing himself.
“Eyes on my face, Rodrigo.”
I’m trying, Esmeralda, but when you lick your lips like that my eyes just start roaming on their own.
