Page 148 of Embriagado

A deep crease formed between his brows.

“Perhaps you know him by his nickname, then. The Frenchman?”

Shrugging, I watched as the smile slowly slipped off his lips.

“Well,” he scoffed, smoothing two fingers over his mustache. “Ariyan must have found you hiding under a rock if you’ve never heard that name before.”

I was beginning to lose my fucking patience.

“Listen, I don’t give a shit about your boss Dior⁠—”

“Dion.”

My jaw twitched. “The fuck you want, huh?”

“We want to offer you a deal.”

This persistent motherfucker.

“How many times do I need to say I’m not fucking interested?”

Holding his stance, he didn’t budge and instead got even closer. “My employer is a very, very rich man. So, why don’t you go home—” He placed something in my hand. “—and think about it?”

Looking down, I saw it was a stack of cash. There was easily ten grand there. But having this prick slip me money like it was candy made me fucking pissed, so I tossed it back at him.

“I don’t need your fucking money,” I hissed, then turned around and began walking toward the door.

“Are you sure? That one hundred grand we paid you for your first fight is chump change compared to what we’re willing to offer now.”

As if I were electrified, I stopped on the spot.

One hundred grand?

Half turning around, I stared at him.

“The fuck’re you on about?”

“I’m talking about the one hundred thousand dollars Ariyan got for your first fight here. From the looks of it, you didn’t see half of it, did you?”

It felt like a boulder was dropped on top of my head, and the only thing worse than the initial shock was the anger that followed. In seconds, my muscles stiffened, and I grew hotter with this new piece of information. Still, I wasn’t about to stay here and be talked to like a fool. Instead, I turned back around and stormed out of there with the need to find him and get some answers to the questions beating inside me like a second heart.

ARIYAN

Years of working for Eduardo Flores had taught me the importance of leaving no traces behind. I’d become skilled at this, a true professional, which was why he called me whenever some cleaning was due. Tonight was no exception, and after my job was done, I went on as if nothing ever happened.

Forever cautious, I ensured no one had seen me leaving the hotel, and upon my return, I did the same. I had my ways to go unnoticed, methods that came in handy at times like this.

Nearly two in the morning, I walked down the empty halls of the hotel, while all I could think about was a boiling shower to wash away the filth. Tonight had left me feeling dirty. From the inside out, I was rotten, and while there was nothing I could do to change that, I had to grit my teeth and survive just a little bit longer.

Reaching my office at last, I exhaled slowly, then went to unlock the door. Oddly enough, it was already open. Not wasting time, I grabbed the handle and pushed it open. Walking in, I didn’t know what to expect, but the sight of Mr. Rivas sitting in my chair, legs propped on the desk, sure took me by surprise.

My mouth crimped at this blunt display of rebelliousness, yet I kept my cool and instead locked the door behind me.

“What’s the meaning of this?” I asked, my stare dipping to his shoes, which he dared to place on my paperwork.

“You’re back late,” he said, bluntly ignoring my question while scrolling through his phone. “Where were you?”

Only then did he look up from his phone to meet my stare, and I noticed something was different about his eyes. Anger. There, lurking deep behind his crystal irises, was rage I hadn’t seen in quite some time.