My name is Kiara Vazques. I live in San Sebastian, one of the most beautiful cities in Spain, surrounded by the sea, with a charm that blends elegance and rebellion. But my life is far from a fairy tale. I've lived with my aunt since my mother died. My father? I never knew who he was, and honestly, it doesn't make a difference today. I grew up knowing that if I wanted something, I'd have to fight for it. And I fought, even when I was so young. I always chased my dreams, and my aunt always supported me. That's why I do what I can to give back.
But that day... ah, that day, it seemed like the universe had decided to throw a load of shit in my face.
First, some bastard almost killed me when I was crossing the street. My cake, carefully prepared for a client, turned into a culinary tragedy spread across the asphalt. I was covered in frosting, flour, and a deep sense of humiliation. And to make matters worse, the wretch, a man with a cold and dangerous gaze, still had the audacity to stare at me as if I were to blame. That ogre.
And then, as if that weren't enough, I got to my job... and I was fired. That's right. Fired because I "could no longer be trusted with important deliveries." Hell!
That late afternoon, I left college exhausted, accompanied by my best friends, Lucia and Ana. They were my sanity amidst the chaos.
"Damn, girl, what a horrible day" Lucia commented, frowning.
"Horrible? It was an apocalyptic disaster! I'm officially screwed! No job, no money... and, damn it, I can still smell that cake in my hair!"
Ana tried to hold back her laughter but failed miserably.
"Look on the bright side... At least you weren't actually run over. Can you imagine such a ridiculous death?"Young woman found covered in whipped cream after being run over by a scoundrel.
I shot her a death glare, but I couldn't help laughing. In the end, we laughed together. Because it was either that or completely lose it.
When I got home, a simple but cozy house, my aunt, Carmen, was setting the table.
"Wash your hands and come eat, my dear."
I did as she asked and sat down, resting my chin on the table, exhausted.
"What happened, Kiara?" she asked, placing a plate in front of me.
"What happened? I got fired! That's what happened! Some bastard destroyed my cake, almost killed me, and in the end, I lost my job!"
My aunt's eyes widened, worried.
"Wait... What do you mean"almost killed you"? Are you okay? Who was this man? Do you want me to call the police?"
"I'm fine, auntie. But the wretch was arrogant, smug, and a cretin. He looked at me as if I were nothing! If I find him again, I..."
She sighed, ignoring my fury.
"Well, maybe this was a blessing in disguise. I found a better job for you."
I stared at her with hope.
"Really?! Where? Tell me now!"
My aunt smiled.
"Cristian, my boss's son, needs a private cook."
My hope died instantly. I felt all the blood drain from my face.
"Auntie... you don't love me, do you?" I muttered, dramatically.
She frowned.
"What are you saying?"
"Those people are dangerous! God forbid! They'll cut off my hands if I get the seasoning wrong!" I said, crossing myself several times.
She rolled her eyes.
"Oh, child! Yes, they're dangerous, but I worked in that house for years. I took care of those three boys. They won't do anything to you! Besides..." she crossed her arms, with a smug smile "you'll earn three times more than you did in that dive."
My eyes widened.
"Three times more?!"
She nodded, satisfied.
I feigned exaggerated drama.
"Well, if that's the case... I accept!" I said, trying to hide my sudden enthusiasm.
My aunt laughed.
"Ah, you little mercenary!"
I rolled my eyes.
"Call it self-interest, call it survival. I'd rather eat well than starve to death!"
But deep down... I knew I was getting myself into trouble. Because working for mobsters never came without consequences.
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