That night, my best friend almost screamed when she read the name.

—Gabriel Albuquerque? The billionaire? You slept in a billionaire’s car?

I tried to ignore the card for three days.

But the rent was overdue.

I called.

—Albuquerque.

—It’s Helena… the girl who invaded your car

He laughed softly.

I didn’t think you’d call.

I need money more than pride

—When can you start?

—Tomorrow.

What begins as work…
The house in Lomas de Chapultepec looked like something out of a movie. Three levels. Impeccable gardens.

He was behind a huge desk, wearing a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up.

“You didn’t run away,” he remarked.

“I need the money.”

“I like your honesty.”

The salary was triple what I earned in my two jobs combined.

—It’s too much.

—It’s fair.

When we shook hands, I felt something electric

But we pretend not to.

It was work.

Just work.