Chapter 3: Nightshift
691 Words
The rain started late in the afternoon, soft at first a light patter against the tall glass windows of Grupo Herrera but by dusk, it had evolved into a full-blown downpour. The sky outside was gunmetal gray, thunder rumbling in slow, distant waves.
Everyone was gone. The office lay quiet and half-lit, eerie in the flicker of emergency bulbs and stormlight.
Everyone, except Alejandro and Emiliano.
"Rivera, you’ll need to stay late tonight," Alejandro had said at exactly 5:47 PM, just as Emiliano was slipping on his coat.
“Oh. Um… is something wrong, sir?”
“I need someone competent to help finalize the Caracas report. Since I haven’t found one, I suppose you’ll do.”
Emiliano had swallowed his groan and nodded. “Of course.”
Now it was 8:20 PM. The thunder cracked again, louder this time. Emiliano flinched in his seat.
Across from him, Alejandro pretended not to notice but he did. He noticed everything.
Emiliano’s brow furrowed as he typed, strands of dark hair falling into his eyes. Alejandro leaned back in his chair, watching the curve of the younger man’s shoulders, the way his fingers moved across the keyboard. There was an innocence to Emiliano.unaware, unguarded.
Or was it an act?
"Are storms always this dramatic in Mexico City?" Emiliano asked, voice softer now in the empty office.
Alejandro smirked. "You should see the ones I cause."
Emiliano looked up, confused.
"I'm joking," Alejandro added dryly, though his eyes gleamed with something wicked.
The air between them thickened. Emiliano bit his lip again.
Alejandro’s gaze dropped instantly. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“That thing with your mouth.”
“I I didn’t mean..”
“You really have no idea, do you?”
Emiliano blinked, lips parting. “About what?”
Alejandro stood slowly and circled the desk. His steps were slow, calculated. By the time Emiliano realized what was happening, his boss was standing behind him, looming, tall and far too close.
“I ask myself daily,” Alejandro murmured near his ear, “if you’re doing it on purpose.”
Emiliano’s heart hammered. He could feel the warmth of Alejandro’s body at his back. The man was so much taller, broader he could swallow him whole.
"I don’t understand," Emiliano said weakly, staring at his screen.
“No,” Alejandro said. “You don’t.”
Silence stretched. Only the rain tapping the windows and the hum of fluorescent light filled the room.
Alejandro stepped back.
"Pack up. I’ll drive you home," he said.
They didn’t speak in the elevator.
They didn’t speak in the underground garage.
Only the smooth hum of Alejandro’s black Audi broke the silence as they slipped through the drenched streets.
Emiliano glanced at the man beside him one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other draped casually over the gear shift, veins visible beneath the rolled cuff of his white shirt. Everything about Alejandro screamed control, power, heat.
“Why do you treat me like that?” Emiliano asked suddenly.
Alejandro raised a brow but didn’t turn. “Like what?”
“Like I annoy you. Like I’m a problem.”
“Maybe you are.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t give answers to people who tremble every time I speak their name.”
Emiliano turned his head to the window, cheeks hot.
But then Alejandro added, quieter, “You’re not a problem, Rivera. You’re a… surprise.”
Emiliano blinked. “A surprise?”
“You’ll understand. Eventually.”
They pulled up to his apartment building in silence.
“Thank you for the ride, sir,” Emiliano said quickly, hand on the door.
"Emiliano," Alejandro said suddenly.
It was the first time he’d used his first name.
Emiliano froze.
"Don’t iron that shirt tomorrow," Alejandro said, voice low, almost amused. "I like the wrinkles."
And with that, the window rolled up.
The Audi disappeared into the rain.
Upstairs, Emiliano stood in his apartment in the dark, shirt clinging to his back with sw
eat.
He touched his lips.
You’ll understand. Eventually.
He wasn’t sure if he was scared… or waiting.
- Writer
