The Spanish Love Deception

Throwing my phone on top of a discarded pile of garments, I headed for the snug space that was my living room. Grabbing my laptop from the round ecru coffee table I had picked up from a flea market a few weeks ago, I placed the device on my lap and let my body fall onto the sofa.

Once settled in the padded cushions, I logged in to my corporate email account.

It was my last resort. With a little bit of luck, his workaholic ass would be sitting in front of his laptop on a Saturday. And wasn’t this … deal we had made a little like a business transaction? It had to be. We weren’t friends—or friendly—so that didn’t leave room for more than a purely I scratch your back, you scratch mine kind of deal. A favor between colleagues.

With no more time to waste, I opened a new email and started typing.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Urgent Info Needed!

Mr. Blackford,

I was irritated—at myself yes, but also at him—and I wasn’t in a first name basis kind of mood.

As per our last conversation, I’m still waiting for you to disclose the details of our upcoming meeting. I find myself without all sources of information, which will consequently lead to an unsuccessful completion of the contract discussed.

I had watched all seasons of Gossip Girl, and I knew the terrible consequences of wearing the wrong thing to a “social commitment” in New York freaking City.

As no doubt you are aware of, it is of utmost importance that you share all info needed at your earliest convenience.

Please get back to me ASAP.

Warm regards,

Lina Martín

Smirking at myself, I hit Send and watched my email leave my outbox. Then, I stared at my screen for a long minute, waiting for his answer to pop up in my inbox. By the third time I unsuccessfully refreshed my email, the smirk was long gone. By the fifth, little drops of sweat—which were partly due to the fact that I was clad in a winter robe—started forming in the back of my neck.

What if he didn’t answer?

Or even worse, what if all this wasn’t more than a prank? A mean way to mess with my head and make me believe he’d help me. What if he’d Carrie’d me?

No, Aaron wouldn’t do that, a voice in my head said.

But why wouldn’t he though? I had more than enough evidence compiled to prove that Aaron was very much capable of something like that.

Did I even know him at all? He attended “social commitments” that had to do with “good causes”, for crying out loud. I did not know him.

Fuck. I needed those cookies. I’d indulge.

When I returned to my laptop, cookie package in hand and mouthful of sugary and buttery comfort, Aaron’s answer was waiting for me. A tiny sigh of relief left my lips.

Biting on a new cookie, I clicked on Aaron’s email.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Urgent Info Needed!

I’ll be there in an hour.

Best,

Aaron