Episode 13

Don't get any ideas.

Lorenzo

I pull up the car in front of Miss Smith's house and step out, just as I'm circling it, she emerges from the house, wearing a dress that clings to her body, showcasing her beautiful figure, accentuating her already stunning beauty, leaving me mesmerized. She approaches me with her lush, wine-colored lips, making them even more enticing, smiling at me in her usual friendly manner.

"Good evening, Mr. Salvatierra," she greets me, and I swallow hard, forcing my brain to form a response to her greeting.

"Good evening, Miss Smith," I reply.

Good evening? As they say in my mother's homeland, "she who has arrived is the beauty."

"Allow me to say, you look very beautiful today," I say, and she smiles, slightly embarrassed.

The truth is, she always looks beautiful, and I wish I could clarify that for her, but I fear it will be misunderstood, so I keep that thought to myself.

"Thank you, sir. You also look very handsome today," she responds, and I can see her cheeks blushing.

"Thank you, Miss Simit," I open the car door for her, and she smiles.

"Thanks," she says and gets inside, I can't help but glance at her backside, I swallow hard again and quickly look away.

Good Lord, this woman! Why does she have to be married?

I close the car door and walk around it, I get in and smile at her, she's fastening her seatbelt, I do the same, and start the car.

Several minutes later, we arrive at the venue where the art exhibition will take place. We are greeted by the host and some journalists, but I quickly avoid them.

"Have you been to an event like this before, Miss Smith?" I ask her, and she shakes her head from side to side.

"No, but I had heard about it, and I'm glad I chose the right outfit for tonight," she says with a smile.

"Alright, enjoy the evening, but stay alert for any relevant information while I converse with some acquaintances," I tell her. She nods in agreement. "Speaking of which, one of them is approaching right now," I mumble under my breath.

"Lorenzo, it's a pleasure to see you," the person says as he arrives at our location. "I honestly didn't think I would find you here, knowing how little you enjoy these events," he comments and looks appreciatively at Miss Smith. "And who is this beauty accompanying you tonight?"

"Hello, John. Well, you're right, buddy. I don't really enjoy attending these events, but you never know what opportunities may arise. This is Vivian Smith, my assistant. Miss Smith, this is John Fenig, an old friend and current partner at the multinational," I introduce them. She kindly smiles and greets him, "Nice to meet you, Mr. John."

"Oh, the pleasure is mine. Let me tell you, you're a beautiful woman," he says, noticing her blushing cheeks. I roll my eyes and give him a warning glance, to which he understands and smiles sardonically.

"Anyway, tell me, how are the exports from Colombia going?" I inquire, changing the topic.

"They're going well, thankfully. We've managed to reach an agreement and..."

Several minutes pass as I continue talking to John. Then, he leaves, and shortly after, another acquaintance approaches me. Miss Smith remains attentive, and every time they mention something potentially important, she subtly gestures as if she were taking mental notes. It amuses me, but I try to keep a serious demeanor. This goes on for about an hour or so.

"Do you like it?" I ask Miss Smith after seeing her analyze a painting for several minutes, since the person she was talking to had left, allowing us to enjoy the exhibition.

"It's very nice, the combination of colors seems relaxing to me," she responds.

"I think all the paintings are for sale," she comments, smiling.

"I figured, but as much as I like it, there's no way I can afford this painting. My salary doesn't allow for that," she smiles and after a few seconds, she looks at me horrified. "Oh my God! I don't mean to imply that I have a bad salary! You actually pay me a very good salary, especially now that I've signed the permanent worker contract. What I meant is that these paintings must be worth a fortune and I don't have that kind of money, even with the good salary you pay me. You might think I have money because of the neighborhood I live in, but that's not the case. My husband's grandmother actually gave us that house and she's the one who pays the expenses and..." she speaks hurriedly and I can't help but smile at that.

"Don't worry, Miss Smith, your comment didn't offend me," I reassure her and she nods.

"Well, the painting is beautiful," she mutters and looks at it again. "I doubt you can pay for it in installments," she whispers and smirks.

"No."

"Well, it doesn't matter," she smiles and walks towards another painting.

"I'll be right back," I tell her and she nods, I head towards the person in charge of selling the paintings.

"Good evening, sir. How can I assist you?" a woman asks me, with a friendly smile.

"I want that painting," I point at the one that Miss Smith was previously admiring.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that painting has already been reserved," she tells me and I furrow my brow.

"I'll pay you double what they're offering for it right now," I say and she opens her eyes in surprise.

"Give me a minute, sir," she says and walks away. I look at Miss Smith going from painting to painting, at one point she looks to her left, and her calm expression immediately changes, and I notice a hint of sadness taking over her face. I look in the same direction as her to find out what made her change so suddenly.

A couple, that's what she sees, and if I am not mistaken, that's the same couple that was at the club that time.

The woman, a blonde, stares back at Miss Smith, says something to the guy and he also looks at her. Then the blonde smirks triumphantly and takes the man's face with both hands and kisses him on the lips. Miss Smith quickly averts her gaze, then turns around and walks towards the exit, I furrow my brow and look at the couple, the blonde smiles triumphantly while the man angrily looks at Miss Smith's back.

Who is this idiot?

Sir," I hear someone calling me and I shift my attention to that person. "The painting is yours," the manager informs me.

"Very well, do you have a card machine?" I ask, she nods. "Yes, sir, I'll bring it right away," the woman turns around and I impatiently watch her. Miss Smith has left and I don't want her to go, it's very dangerous for a woman to be alone at this hour.

Fortunately, the woman doesn't take too long, I take out my card from my wallet and swiftly pass it through the slot of the device.

"Very well, please send it to the Salvatierra Industries office, addressed to Lorenzo Salvatierra," I tell the woman, she quickly writes everything down. "Excuse me."

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