The Spanish Love Deception

Chapter 17

“No.” I rolled my eyes even though he might have been a little right.

He sort of looked like the man behind Superman’s secret identity. Not the one with the cape, the one who wore a suit,

had a nine-to-five job, and was kind of … hot for a guy working in an office. Not that I’d ever admit that out loud. Not

even to Rosie.

Aaron studied my face for a couple of seconds.

“I think I’m going to take it as a compliment,” he said as one of the corners of his lips bent up just the tiniest little bit.

Smug Clark Kent look-alike.

“Well, it’s not.” I reached for my mouse, clicking to open a random folder. “Thor or Captain America? That would have Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

been a compliment. But you are not a Chris. Plus, no one cares about Superman anymore, Mr. Kent.”

Aaron seemed to think about my statement for an instant. “It sounds like you still care though.”

As I ignored that, he proceeded to walk behind me. Then, I watched him cross the office to the desk that belonged to

one of the guys I shared the space with but who had obviously left hours ago. He grabbed his chair with one hand and

rolled it in my direction.

&nbs

p; My arms crossed in front of my chest as he placed that chair beside mine and let his large body fall on it, making it

squeak and look rather frail.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“You asked me that question already.” He pinned me with a bored look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I don’t need your help, Blackford.”

He sighed. “I think I’m having another déjà vu.”

“You,” I stuttered. Then scoffed again. “I … ugh.”

“Catalina,” he said, and I hated how my name sounded on is lips in that precise moment. “You need the help. So, I’m

saving us both some time because we both know you’d never ask.”

He wasn’t wrong. I would never ask Aaron for anything, not when I knew exactly what he thought about me.

Personally, professionally, it didn’t matter. I had been well aware of what he thought of me all this time. I had heard

him myself all those months ago even if he didn’t know that. So, no, I refused to accept anything from him. As much

as that turned me into a grudge-holder too. Just like he was. I’d live with it.

Aaron leaned back and placed his hands on the chair’s armrests. The shirt strained with the motion, the change in the

tension of the fabric too flattering enough for my eyes not to unconsciously drift there.

Jesus. My eyes fluttered closed for a second. I was hungry, tired from dealing with all this, betrayed by my own two

eyes, and honestly simply confused at this point.

“Stop being so stubborn,” he said.

Stubborn. Why? Because I hadn’t asked for his help and I was supposed to take it when he decided to offer it?

Now, I was pissed. That was probably why I opened my mouth without thinking. “That’s why you didn’t speak up

during the meeting where all this was dumped on me and then some? Because I didn’t ask for help? Because I am

too stubborn to ever accept it?”

Aaron’s head reared back just slightly; he was probably shocked by my admission.

I immediately regretted saying anything. I did. But it had somehow slipped out, as if the words had been squeezed out

of me.

Something flashed through his otherwise serious expression. “I didn’t realize you wanted me to step in.”

Of course not. No one had. Not even Héctor, who I almost considered family. Didn’t I know that by now? Yes, I was

more than familiar with the fact that when it came to these situations, there were two groups of people. Those who

believed that not saying anything made them stand in neutral ground and those who picked a side. And more often

than not, it was the wrong one. Sure, it wasn’t always as harmless as condescending and disrespectful comments like

those Gerald had made. Sometimes, it was far, far worse than just that. I knew that. I had experienced that firsthand a

long time ago.

I shook my head, pushing the memories away. “Would that have made a difference, Aaron? If I had asked you to

intervene?” I asked him, as if he held the solution in his hands when he really didn’t. I watched him, feeling my heart

race with trepidation. “Or if I told you I was exhausted from having to ask, would you step in then?”

Aaron studied me in silence, searching my face almost gingerly.

My cheeks heated up under his scrutiny, making me regret more and more that I had spoken.

“Forget I said anything, okay?” I averted my eyes, feeling disappointed and mad at myself for putting Aaron, out of all

people, on the line when he didn’t owe me anything. Not a single thing. “I’m stuck with this anyway. It doesn’t matter

how or why.” Or that it wouldn’t be the last time.

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