Chapter 03

When Rodolpho arrived at his penthouse, he couldn't quite leave the office behind.

Why the fuck can't I stop thinking about that kid? And he's blind, on top of it... He took a sip of whisky, grabbed his phone, and texted a male escort who regularly did jobs for him.

The guy showed up quickly.

"You're tense," the young man commented, massaging Rodolpho's shoulders.

"That's why you're here," Rodolpho replied curtly.

The young man didn't seem bothered. He positioned himself between Rodolpho's legs and began sucking him off. His movements were rhythmic and professional, drawing groans from the CEO.

When the licking and sucking grew more intense and Rodolpho was approaching the peak, he glanced down at the man in front of him — and saw Alan instead. He had to blink several times to dispel the illusion, losing the mood instantly.

He tried to fuck, but that didn't work either.

"I don't know what happened... This is the first time... You know..."

"Hell! I went soft! What happened to me? And why am I justifying myself to him?"

"Yeah, I know, but there's always a first time — isn't that what they say?"

Rodolpho shot him a look, but said nothing. They'd known each other long enough that a certain familiarity existed between them.

"What are you staring at?" Rodolpho asked, irritated.

"Did something happen at the company today?"

Rodolpho rolled his eyes. What does one thing have to do with the other?

"No. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Pablo laughed.

"You sure about that?"

Rodolpho poured a glass of whisky for himself and another for Pablo.

"I bumped into an intern..."

"And?"

"He's blind..."

Pablo wore a mix of mischief and amusement on his face.

"No way! You're fantasizing about your own employee, Rodolfito?"

"Of course not! Are you insane?" Rodolpho fired back, his voice climbing a notch above normal — which only confirmed Pablo's suspicions.

He walked to the enormous glass window of the penthouse, staring out at the city lights to avoid the young man's gaze. Pablo took a sip of whisky, savoring both the expensive drink and the CEO's obvious denial.

"Rodolfito, you called me over here, went soft halfway through, and now you're defending your honor like a teenager. The diagnosis is clear: this intern got under your skin."

"He didn't get under my skin," Rodolpho hissed, his fingers tightening around the crystal glass.

"Sure..." Pablo rose from the sofa and walked slowly toward Rodolpho. He stopped beside him, looking out at the same horizon of illuminated buildings. "And since when does the great Rodolpho fail in bed? You're a machine, sweetheart."

Rodolpho let out a bitter laugh, but Pablo's argument landed a direct hit on his ego. He didn't fail. Never. The humiliation from minutes ago still burned in his chest, mixed with an uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability.

"He's just a kid, Pablo."

Pablo smiled — but this time without mockery. There was a spark of genuine interest, and even a faint hint of pity, in his eyes. He set the empty glass on the coffee table and gathered his clothes from where they lay scattered across the plush carpet.

"Well, my work here is done for today. Looks like my services have been canceled by forces beyond my control," Pablo said, buttoning his dress shirt with the ease of someone who knew the routine. "A piece of advice from someone who deals with human desire all day, Rodolpho: don't fight the current. If this kid knocked you off balance without even touching you, the problem isn't him. It's what he woke up in there... Maybe he's 'your guy.'"

Rodolpho didn't respond. He just grabbed his wallet, pulled out a generous amount of cash — well above the usual fee — and held it out. Pablo preferred physical cash, which he later deposited into off-the-books accounts. A way to avoid income tax, since it was difficult to confirm where the money came from.

"For your time," the CEO said, dry.

"Thanks. And good luck." Pablo winked, grabbed his jacket, and walked to the penthouse door, leaving Rodolpho completely alone with the silence of the apartment, the rest of his whisky, and the persistent image of Alan burned into his thoughts.

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