He didn't start the timer. Before he could drag this out, I reached over and hitStartmyself. “Go.”
“I’m interested in a capsule bridal collection,” he said, his voice shifting into business mode. “A handful of gowns. Ten, maybe. Any style. I want you to design them.”
My eyes narrowed. Fury surged, hot and fast. “You fired me. Youfiredme. And now you want me to design gowns for you on the side? Are you out of your damn mind?”
I snatched his phone and tossed it at him. I jumped off the bed, flung open the door, and pointed toward the hallway. “You didn’t even need two minutes. It’s a hard no from me.”
Unbothered, he got up slowly, shut the door again, and planted his hand against the wood, blocking me. He leaned in until my back was pressed to the wall. Our faces were inches apart. My pulse went haywire.
“Out. Now,” I growled.
“You’ve always been such a stubborn ass,” he said softly. His gaze flicked to my mouth. That’s when I remembered—I probably still had Cheetos crumbs on my face.
“Takes one to know one,” I snapped.Real mature.
The door rattled. He dropped his hand immediately, stepping back just as it opened.
“¿Qué pasa aquí?” my mom asked, her eyes darting between us.
I didn't have an answer for what was "happening here" that didn't involve me strangling Elliott. She looked at me—bed hair, oversized high school T-shirt, tiny shorts—and gasped. “Vanessa!”
“El diablowas just leaving,” I said, smiling sweetly at him.
“Thank you for the meal, Mrs. Miranda. Delicious,” he said, kissing her cheek like he was the perfect golden boy.
We both watched him walk away. When the front door closed, my mom turned to me, horrified. “Maleducada! How can you have a visitor dressed like that?”
“I don’t know, mom. Why did you even let him in?”
She just huffed. “What? Am I screening at the door now?”
“Yes! From now on, you’re the bouncer. If anyone shows up asking for me, you bounce them. I don’t care if it’s the Pope—bounce him.”
She hissed at the mention of the Pope and smacked the back of my head, but she was laughing. “C’mon. I saved you somecarne asada.”
She hooked her arm around my waist and led me to the kitchen, pulling a covered plate from the microwave. The pile of food was huge and still steaming.
“Eat,” she commanded, shoving a fork into my hand. “You look like a ghost. A ghost with very bad hair.”
I sat at the chipped wooden table—the heart of our loud, crowded, messy home—and shoved a piece of steak into mymouth. It was exactly what I needed. If Elliott’s intention had been to get under my skin in my own territory, he had succeeded. I had a feeling I’d be smelling his expensive cologne long after the scent of thecarne asadawas gone.
seven
VANESSA
“I’d sayyou clean up nice, but I’m just really thankful you’re clean,” my sister, Val, said from the bed. She barely glanced at me before turning back to her nightlytelenovela.
She was right. I had finally gotten my ass out of bed. I’d showered. My hair was brushed and crumb-free. I was wearing deodorant and what I liked to call my "boss bitch" suit.
“Mom said there was an imprint of your body in the mattress from how long you’ve been sleeping in those crusty sheets.”
Sisterly love and support at its finest. Normally, I’d have clapped back with something equally cutting, but since she was here to doll me up for the fundraiser, I bit my tongue. Val and I were thick as thieves—twin souls split into two bodies. Nobody got me the way she did. Sometimes we didn’t even need words; just one look and we’d be doubled over laughing.
“Where do you want me?” I asked.
Val was a beautician by trade, and I swore she could make anyone look like a masterpiece. Makeup for her was what tulle was to me. She didn’t even answer, her eyes glued to the screen.
I snapped my fingers in front of her face. “Earth to Valeria. Where. Do. You. Want. Me?”
