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Oh, thank God. Relieved to hear his name being called, I glanced over and even took a step in that direction, only to jerk to another halt when I saw him toting one of those fancy silver trays with the champagne glasses on it with one hand. When I realized his pristine, pressed suit matched the rest of the waitstaff, I frowned in confusion.
What the what?
The woman who’d barked at him, rattled something off in Spanish that I couldn’t completely follow. I blushed as I tried to decipher everything, because it felt as if I should understand more. But my dad had been so lax in teaching Miguel and me his native tongue that I basically knew nothing.
She was ordering Diego to go get more baby dolls? No. Maybe she meant more champagne. Yes. Drinks! Bebidas. That made so much more sense.
As he nodded and hurried off to comply, my heart sank, because one fact became incredibly clear to me.
Diego wasn’t in the filming industry.
Diego wasn’t even rich.
Diego was a goddamn liar.
And Diego was—gasp!
He was a fucking thief too.
Just before he left the ballroom through a side, employees-only exit, he paused to keep from running into a man who was backing up in his direction. When he held out a hand to touch the guy, I thought he was just trying to warn the other man of his presence. The gentleman even glanced back and apologized for not looking where he was going.
Diego smiled smoothly and nodded, forgiving him, even as he pocketed the guy’s wallet he’d just lifted.
Bastard!
No wonder why he could afford to buy me so many pretty flowers. He stole the money right off the rich people he was serving.
Slinking away as my breath came in uneven, choppy gasps, I escaped the room before anyone caught sight of me, and I marched down the hall in a blind rage, more shock than actual blood pounding through my veins.
I felt like such a fool. I had totally bought into every lie he’d ever fed me at the café. I mean, his extravagant gift of roses had been proof enough for me that he was rich. But now it made sense why such a well-to-do man had even frequented Trudy’s to begin with. Everything he’d ever told me had probably just been fabricated to impress me.
Thank God his showboating had only ever turned me off; I might’ve actually fallen right into his ruse.
If only the asshole had actually tried to get to know me, he would’ve learned that money wasn’t what made my heart go pitter-patter. He could’ve just been honest and humble and told me he served people for a living—just as I did—and I would’ve had a hell of a lot more respect and romantic regard for him. I mean, damn, the guy had been cute enough (though he wasn’t anymore; the lying and stealing totally negated that), I might’ve given him the time of day if he’d just stopped the bragging.
But not now.
Now, I kind of wanted to skin the slimy prick alive. I had been about to accept a date with him, dammit! How dare he turn out to be a rotten apple? And how dare he do this to the entire Hispanic community? We got a bad enough rap in this area as it was, without the few stray idiots like him making it worse.
Oh, who was I kidding? I didn’t really care if he was a thief or not. Diego was no concern of mine. When it came right down to it, I wasn’t even sure if I would’ve been able to go through with talking to him tonight if, you know, he’d ended up being exactly who he said he was. The truth was, I was more embarrassed at myself than anything. Embarrassed that I’d actually come here in the first place. Embarrassed I’d even thought up the stupid idea of asking a man I barely knew for money.
Embarrassed for feeling so desperate and lost and wanting help.
I was an idiot; that’s all I could surmise. A senseless, silly girl who felt like she was at the end of her rope. I just needed a freaking shoulder to lean on, just for a little while, until I felt like standing back up and going it on my own again. And I didn’t know who to turn to for any kind of support: emotional or monetary. If only I weren’t such a standoffish person and actually had a few friends.
Stewing in my own self-pity, I turned a corner and kept slugging along, paying no attention to where I was going until I slowed to a stop and blinked my surroundings into focus, realizing I had no idea where I was.
Great. This was definitely not the hallway I had used to get from the main foyer to the ballroom. It didn’t even appear to be for public use but was for more like private residences. A bronzed door plaque on one of the closed entries said 1B on it, confirming my suspicion of them being condo apartments.
So, how the hell did I get out of here?
I was about to turn around and head back the way I’d come, but something up ahead caught my eye.
Something glittery and pretty.
A sucker for all things bling and icy, I was immediately drawn forward. I don’t know if they were my best friend, but diamonds certainly caught my attention. And when there appeared to be a lot of them, I decided I had to see what that was about. Because it looked as if the entire door was covered in—holy shit.
It was.
