Latino Billionaire Series 2: Scarlet Flower

KELLY

After a long day of job hunting and finally applying to a promising fashion company, I had a few options for unwinding. I could have stayed in and watched a movie or gone to the theater. I could have taken a leisurely walk in the park or done some window shopping.

Anything to help me relax and pass the time.

Instead, I found myself back at the club where my world had first started to crumble, where I discovered my ex’s betrayal. To make matters worse, I was several shots deep and embarrassingly drunk, making a spectacle of myself and causing the bartender to blush with discomfort.

“Remind me,” I slurred, “how old are you?”

“Nineteen, ma’am,” he responded, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.

I burst into laughter, pounding the table with my hands. The bartender looked around nervously. Sure enough, some of the dancers were starting to stare. He offered them a weak smile before turning back to me.

“Ma’am, could you please calm down? You’re drawing attention,” he said, subtly nodding toward the onlookers.

“Well, they can go fuck themselves. I don’t care. You’d be amazed what a breakup can do to a person,” I giggled, then pouted. “Tell me, is there something wrong with me?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am,” he said, scratching his head.

I gestured to my chest. “Look at these. I’m well-endowed. Men would kill for a chance with these. Why would my boyfriend cheat on me when I have these?”

“Uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. “Ma’am, I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

“You sound like a virgin, and you’re being a total buzzkill,” I pouted even more.

Suddenly, a voice said from behind me, “He’s not.”

My heart skipped a beat. That voice. Where had I heard it before? I turned around in my seat, squinting. My vision was blurry, but I could make out dark hair and blue eyes. That face. Where had I seen that face before?

He slid into the seat next to me. “We meet again, Señorita.”

His eyes scanned me, then narrowed. “Not under the best circumstances, it seems. You’re drunk.”

I giggled, waving my hand dismissively. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” He held up his hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

I squinted. “Two?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Five.”

“No.”

“Three.”

“No.”

“Twenty-six?”

“That’s not even possible!” He facepalmed, and I nearly fell off my chair laughing. He steadied me with a hand on my shoulder.

“I can guess why you’re drunk,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “It has something to do with your boyfriend.”

He looked around. “He’s not here, is he?”

“As if,” I said, glaring at the table as if it had personally offended me.

“You had a fight.”

“Worse.” I hiccuped.

“Of course.”

He turned to the bartender. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks.”

“No problem, sir.” The bartender tugged at his collar, probably trying to cool down from his earlier embarrassment.

“Time to go, young lady.” He gently gripped my arm.

“I don’t want to,” I whined.

“You need to.” He scanned the crowd. “It’s not safe for you to stay here like this.”

Before I could protest, he had wrapped his arm around my waist and helped me to my feet. His cologne filled my senses, and I purred in contentment.

“All right, let’s go,” he said.

I waved at the flustered bartender as we left. “Bye bye, cutie.”

“Let’s go.” He guided me away.

Outside, the harsh glare of the streetlights hit me full in the face, and I groaned.

“Who turned off the sun?”

I heard a rumble from his throat. Was he laughing?

“You’re a terrible drunk,” he said.

He nudged me into the car, and I nestled into the seat. He made his way around to the driver’s side, and I watched as he slid the key into the ignition.

“Where are we headed?” I asked.

“Back to your place,” he replied. “You’re going to have to guide me there. And try not to screw it up, even though that might be a tall order considering your current state. But do us both a favor and try, okay?”

I looked at him, my lips pressing into a thin line.

“Okay,” I said with a shrug.

He studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Then, with a sigh, he started the car. As we drove, I found myself babbling out directions. I wasn’t sure if I was making sense, but I saw his lower lip twitch and heard him mutter something under his breath.

Eventually, we pulled up in front of an apartment building.

“Is this the place?” he asked.

I squinted at the building. Even through my drunken haze, I recognized the rooster sign next to the entrance.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “This is it.”

I turned to him. “Thank…”

But I couldn’t finish. My stomach churned, and I couldn’t stop what happened next. I threw up.

“Dios mios!” he exclaimed. “Unbelievable.”

He muttered something in Spanish, but I was too out of it to care. The sound of a car door slamming reached my ears, and then my door was opening. He reached in and helped me out of the car.

“You’re something else,” he grumbled. “If you’re going to get drunk, at least do it right.”

I giggled in response, and he just shook his head. I rested my head against his chest as we walked toward the building. My mind was filled with silly thoughts and wild ideas.

I guessed this was a relief.