A Waltz With Wolves (Book II in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Eighteen: That Undeniable Latin Charm

**

JULY.

I have learned many things about the Quintanilla's since I began working closely with them about three weeks ago.

One: they love to live a lavish lifestyle, which means lavish dinners, expensive trips, parties and the materialistic possessions to show for it—sports cars, mansions, private jets, yachts and of course the gifts. Lots and lots of gifts. It started off with simple gift cards to Bath and Body Works or Target or Nordstrom—something I could accept. But then they became bold and moved on to sending me $2,000 Saint Laurent handbags, $700 Christian Louboutin heels, and the icing on the cake: an exclusive invite to Barcelona to spend a week with them at their multi-million-dollar villa.

Second: they won't take no for an answer. Not in a rude way, but in an insistent way; they're so adamant that I'm doing so much for them, when really I'm just doing my job. We agreed to hosting their party at their house in Los Angeles on December 23rd, which meant I had to get in contact with a couple of journalists I knew so that way the Quintanilla's would become a name known in California. Salvador was floored by how many calls and meetings I've made in such a short time.

"Please, the handbag and shoes are yours, mija," he said to me when I tried to politely decline it, "You have been too good to us. I don't think we could have found anyone else to do as good as a job as you. Please, please take them."

We were in Salvador's large study, overlooking the pool that his grandkids were swimming around in while the maids tended to the rest of the family sitting around, sipping mimosas and eating finger foods. They were like Colombian royalty to me; they were beautiful and more refined than any American elite I've seen in a while. The way the mothers sat taut, laughing and conversing amongst each other with their designer sunglasses and lace kimonos; how the fathers smoked cigars and drank coffee. Classy was a bit of an understatement.

Salvador's wife, Esmeralda, was speaking to the gardeners tending to the palm trees and the rest of the tropical foliage. Esmeralda is a very nice woman who speaks to me in Spanish even though I'm not too sure of a lot of what she's saying. The first time we visited their house, Darcy was nice enough to translate when Esmeralda spoke to me. I was surprised.

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish, Darcy," I whispered to her.

"I'm Mexican," she answered shyly.

"Really? You never told me that."

She shrugged, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "I never thought it was important or that anyone cared, really."

Bless her heart.

Lastly, there is another thing I learned about the Quintanilla's since I began working with them. Well, it's mostly about one person—Alejandro.

I always get the impression that he doesn't like his family too much. Whenever Salvador would start speaking at meetings out on their patio, Alejandro would wear a disgusted face (hidden, of course) and just smoke his cigarette in silence, head turned to the courtyard. Even when the Quintanilla's were outside enjoying the July heat, Alejandro would be inside, smoking at a table and thinking hard about something. Although distant from his family, that doesn't mean he isn't flirtatious. Yes, I'll admit, I have been flirting back a little bit—emphasis on the words 'a little bit.' I feel even more odd, encouraging his advances while working with his family. He's just so goddamn convincing; it's hard to deny a man that's as gorgeous and charming as him.

Believe me, I know.

Alejandro is supposed to be coming by today to talk about the article on The Courier about him and his family. I know for a fact he's going to press me about Barcelona; I still haven't given a definitive answer about their invite, but I'm leaning towards declining it. It doesn't seem right for me to intrude on their family vacation.