That night, my best friend almost screamed when she read the name.

—Gabriel Albuquerque? The billionaire? You slept in a billionaire’s car?

I tried to ignore the card for three days.

But the rent was overdue.

I called.

—Albuquerque.

—It’s Helena… the girl who invaded your car

He laughed softly.

I didn’t think you’d call.

I need money more than pride

—When can you start?

—Tomorrow.

What begins as work…
The house in Lomas de Chapultepec looked like something out of a movie. Three levels. Impeccable gardens.

He was behind a huge desk, wearing a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up.

“You didn’t run away,” he remarked.

“I need the money.”

“I like your honesty.”

The salary was triple what I earned in my two jobs combined.

—It’s too much.

—It’s fair.

When we shook hands, I felt something electric

But we pretend not to.

It was work.

Just work.

For weeks I organized his chaotic schedule, negotiated meetings, optimized travel. He recognized my ability

“You’re not here out of pity,” he once told me. “You’re here because you’re brilliant.”

No one had ever called me brilliant before.

A month later he invited me to a business event in Polanco.

—As my assistant —he clarified.

Lights, businessmen, appraising glances.

Without saying a word, he placed his hand on my back. Not possessive. Just supportive.

I felt safe.

And that was dangerous.

The rumors started.

“The new assistant.”
“Always by his side.”

One night I exploded.

“I don’t want them to think I’m here because he rescued me.”

He stared at me

—I hired you because you’re exceptional. The rest is just other people’s insecurities.

Then he added:

“I admire you, Helena.”

He didn’t say “I desire you.”

He said admiration

And that meant more.