Chapter 5 The Real Owner

By Pupy

—“Friends?

This woman definitely wants to drive me crazy, just like I’m driving her crazy.

Perfect—I’ve found someone who’ll be a worthy rival, until I send her to the ropes.”

I looked at her face, locked my gaze into her eyes; she held my gaze, and I couldn’t think of anything other than the perfection of her eyes.—

Last night she said hello to him when she ran into him at the restaurant.—

Yes, he’s an acquaintance.—

That’s why I’m telling you—he’s as much an acquaintance of hers as he is of mine. For that reason, we don’t know if she was waiting for you or for me.

“If he wanted to see me, he’d call me, make an appointment, and come into the office.” “If

he wanted to see me, he’d call me, ask me out, or come to my house

.” “Are you messing with me?

” “No, I’m just making my point clear.” “I

don’t want any drama with my employees.”

-“As far as I’m concerned, you won’t have any.”

“That’s all for now, but remember, work isn’t an extension of your home.”

She made a face I didn’t understand.

“Of course it isn’t an extension—my home is…” “What is it?

”

I asked, as if her answer really mattered to me.

She rolled her eyes and then replied,

“My sanctuary.”

Her answer surprised me again.

I let it go.

My point was clear, too.

I answered a call and then headed to the parking lot, where my driver and a bodyguard were waiting for me.

I got into my Lexus, and before I started the engine, I noticed the maneuvers Emma was making in her Mercedes.

It was a very luxurious, brand-new car, and she was driving it with great ease.

Without a doubt, she was used to driving that kind of car.

—Who is Emma Fonda, really?

I’d never seen her before, nor had I even heard her name mentioned, yet she seems to belong to my own social circle.

I got home; my wife wasn’t there. Just then, I got a call from Odri García.

Odri is a beautiful model I see once a week—nothing serious. I haven’t even gotten her an apartment; I just give her a nice gift every time I see her.

I don’t play the boyfriend; she knows I’m married, and when I call her, I don’t want any excuses.

I don’t like it when she calls me; I answered because it’s rare for her to do so. “Hi

. What do you need?

” “Hi…”

“Tell me,

” I said, almost indifferently. “I’m

at an event and I ran into Grace Obban.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t want any trouble

.” “So?

” “She didn’t mention you, but she says she’s still dating that businessman—is that you?” “Are you dating her?

” “I don’t think you understood a thing.” “I

don’t understand you.” “I’m the one who calls you

, and I only understand if you have an important event. Otherwise, you know you have to be available and that you can’t mention my name—even though sometimes we have dinner together and I let people see me with you—and if anyone mentions my name or hints at anything, you wash your hands of the matter.”

-“That’s unfair.”

“Life is unfair; I don’t want any cheap drama.

I’m being blunt, but I want to set the record straight—even though we’d already discussed this from the start.” “And

another thing: I’m always the one who calls you.”

I hung up, almost angry.

I’m going to have to handle things differently.

I went to my office and called my lawyer from there.

I instructed him to draft a document that would legally bar Grace, Odri, or anyone else in the future from mentioning my name or implying that I’m in any kind of relationship with them.

I’m a lawyer myself, but I’m not going to bother drafting anything.

Everything would have to go through a notary public to give it a more formal format.—

María, do you know anything about Nicoll?

—The lady said he was going to an event and would be having dinner at the Dorado Resort.—He’s dining

out.

I’ll let you know.

I took a refreshing shower and met up with my Santiago Park.

We had dinner at an exclusive and discreet restaurant, where the dessert was the list of the young women you could hire.

He congratulated me on asking my lawyer to handle it and told me he was going to follow my example.

He’s divorced and has already lost too much in the separation; he wasn’t amused that someone else was taking something from him that he wasn’t willing to give.

I went into my company; I slept longer than I expected—the girl didn’t live up to my expectations.

Before reaching my office, there was Kika’s office and then the general sales office.

I stood in the doorway of Kika’s office, which was connected internally to the other office where Emma was.

I don’t understand why I thought of her at that moment.—Kika

, get me a suit.

I was still wearing the suit from the night before, and even though I’d showered before leaving the hotel, I preferred to change.—I’d also

like a double espresso and an aspirin.—Good

morning, sir. I’ll bring you what you asked for right away.

I kept walking, and out of the corner of my eye, through the glass walls, I saw the employees going about their work.

Actually, the one I was watching was Emma, although I never looked directly at her.

Not even five minutes had passed when, right at my office door, there stood Emma, holding a tray in one hand and a hanger from which hung a dry-cleaning bag containing my suit. “Excuse

me, sir,

” Emma said aloud, since she didn’t have a free hand to knock.

I looked at her for a few seconds.

She was beautiful and had class.

I don’t understand why she was working in that position. “Come

in,

” I said indifferently.

She set the small tray on my desk and held the suit in her hand. “Where

would you like me to put it?

” I smiled.

She’d given me an opening to say anything to her.

I looked at her, and her face was as stone.

I couldn’t say anything inappropriate to her.

I just winked at her.

“Put it on the chair.” “Excuse me

,

” she said, without expecting any further conversation.

I was left wanting to have some kind of argument with Emma—that’s becoming an addiction; it feels natural and is crossing boundaries that even I don’t want to acknowledge.

I love seeing her right in front of me, fearless, stubborn, unafraid of me.

I watched her leave—actually, I was staring at her butt; that skirt hugged it in a very suggestive way.

She’s alluring, sensual… she has a certain power that doesn’t come from her pretty little face or her beautiful, delicate body.

I looked at the aspirin; I thought I had a headache, but I realized the pain had gone away.

I got changed and then told Kika that when she went out for lunch, she should take care of my clothes—the ones I’d left in my office bathroom.

I put the aspirin away in my desk drawer.

I worked until mid-morning.

I scheduled a meeting with Humberto Olay, the CEO of Textil Norte and my brother-in-law—my sister’s husband.

Many people believe that I hold my position as manager simply because I’m the owner’s brother-in-law.

That I do whatever I want because my job is secure.

Many have tried to undermine me—they’ve even gone to Humberto with false stories.

At executive meetings, I’m the only one with a manager’s position—not a director’s—who attends, and to many, I have the audacity to correct everyone; they’re still surprised that Humberto doesn’t correct my attitude.

I don’t correct people just for the sake of it—it’s always to improve things—though I admit I can be a little rude and somewhat conceited.

Some think Humberto is too lenient with me.

Some tried to tell him this and were surprised by the strength of Humberto’s words in my defense.

Many were confused and even tried to smear me by saying that my standard of living wasn’t that of a manager, that I was surely embezzling funds, or that Humberto—whom everyone knew was my brother-in-law—was giving me some kind of special check because we were related.

No one knew that the wealth came from my family.

Sandy, my sister—who was five years older than me—owned 20% of Textil Norte.

Business wasn’t her thing—at least not textiles; her passion was art.

She owned the three most prestigious art galleries in the country.

To be able to set them up in all their splendor, she sold me 30% of the shares in Textil Norte.

Yes, I hold 80% of the shares; I’m the true owner. Humberto, my brother-in-law, was nothing more than a front, the public face.

That was his role.

With his imposing stature, his seriousness, his honesty, and his competence, he was the perfect director of Textil Norte and all its subsidiaries, along with all the brands we owned.

We weren’t just in the textile industry; we also owned thousands of hectares that had belonged to our parents, but since I took over that legacy, I’ve tripled the size of that business.

My sister trusts me and has no objections to how I run things, because my dealings are transparent.

My parents are still the legal owners of the farms; I’m solely in charge of all sales—crops, livestock, and so on.

I’m very good at business transactions; I enjoy them and find them fun.

The funniest part is that they think I own nothing, but my power overwhelms them.

I end up making all the numbers work in my favor.

For now, our parents have only transferred the textile business to us, and they did so in equal shares—which is only fair.

We have a lot of power and a great deal of money; I, for one, don’t hide it. Humberto and Sandy are a bit more reserved; they often say that such ostentation is dangerous, and of course, they don’t approve when I go out without my bodyguards.

Even though I work very hard, I never stop having fun.

Yes, I’m a modern playboy—but one who works—even though many people think I’m practically a kept man by Humberto.