Taming Alejandro

Mira’s POV

“Ehem. Hi, I’m Mira Martinez, and I’m a sex addict.” I cleared my throat before continuing. “I’ve been assaulted by my stepdad, worked at two strip clubs, and now I’m applying to be your PR consultant.”

I recited my lines for my interview with Mr. Montenegro later in the day for the hundredth time.

He had asked me to be transparent, and I couldn’t think of any other way to do that besides telling him the truth about who I really am.

“Cut!!!” Zara, my best friend, screamed, pressing lightly on her temples. “What was that, Mira?”

“Me trying to be transparent?” I ran a hand through my messed-up morning hair as I paced the room.

Zara laughed so hard, kicking her feet back and forth like I was some struggling, up-and-coming comedian.

“Let’s get something straight here. What’s your job?” she asked, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“PR consultant,” I muttered reluctantly.

“And who are you aiming to work for?” she continued.

“The famous Mr. James Montenegro,” I responded, picturing the old man’s potbelly.

“So why would you, as a PR consultant, say you’re a sex addict when your job is to keep his image in check?” She cocked a brow.

I stopped pacing and threw myself onto the bed, pressing my head hard against the pillow. “Girl, I don’t know anymore. You know I can’t lie, and you know I have a past. What if I don’t tell the entire truth like he requested, and he digs up dirt on me later?”

“He’ll dig up nothing about you, Mira.” She moved closer, brushing away strands of hair from my face. “You’ll look him dead in the eye and tell him what he wants to hear. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—don’t give it up just because you believe you’re a terrible liar.”

“But I am,” I pouted.

“You’re going to get out of this bed, dress up, and make your way to that interview. Give them the fierce Mira I know,” she said, tickling me as we laughed and played.

Time flew by fast. I glanced at my watch. It was 10 a.m. I raised my head to the tall and oppressive building that stood before me.

Vortex Entertainment was widely known for its excellence in bringing out the best models, actresses, actors, and many more in the entertainment industry—including the best porn stars.  And now, I, Mira, with no work experience whatsoever, was aiming for an unreachable position there.

The confidence I held, walking into the building with my head high, would make one think I was cut out for luxury. But in reality, I could barely afford to eat three square meals a day.

“Hi, Miss Martinez, right?” A tall, slender woman walked up to me with a broad smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” I responded, returning the smile.

“I’m Jenette. Follow me,” she said, and I trailed behind her.

Everything here looked so out of this world—rather, so out of my world. The men and women in sophisticated clothing looked like they had known how their lives would turn out from the womb.

I glanced at my borrowed blue suit and skirt one last time, straightening it. I was certain if I got one more wrinkle on it, Zara would put me in a casket.

We stopped before a large glass door. Jenette pushed it open and stepped in, signaling for me to stay still and I did.

Seconds later, she returned. “You can go in.”

I let out a deep sigh, straightened up, put on my work face, and made my way through the glass doors that stood between me and the money for my surgery.

As I stepped in, my eyes met those of a man in his early sixties, seated comfortably as he twirled a pen in his hand, watching my every move.

“Good morning, Mr. Montenegro,” I greeted with a smile.

“You’re the final candidate, so make it worth my time,” he answered coldly, sending shivers down my spine.

At this point, nervousness should have been my middle name. But middle names stay hidden because they’re horrible, so I tossed the nervousness aside and smiled.

“Time is a precious thing, Mr. Montenegro.”

He furrowed his brows, studying me from head to toe. “Take a seat.”

I placed my butt on the soft cushion, staring him dead in the eye.

“I have two questions to ask you, and if you get them right, the job’s yours,” he said.

This was a tricky statement, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to give the right answers. But I was already seated here, so why run?

“First, do you have a kid?” he began.

“No kids, sir,” I responded immediately. Even if it were a miracle, I couldn’t bear any children in my condition.

“Good.” He nodded, sounding impressed, like I had just answered a very difficult question. “Second, can you take insults?”

His questions were sounding dumber and dumber by the second. What did he mean, Can I take insults?

Unless I was hallucinating, was this really the kind of interview for a proper job?

“Miss Martinez?” he called, bringing me out of my reverie.

“I don’t believe there’s anything like an insult, sir. There are mainly just descriptions of how a person sees you. So yes, I take them perfectly,” I answered, unsure of what I had just blurted out.

He smiled, jotting something down on his notepad before looking back at me.

“You’ve got the job,” he announced.

I blinked, confused by what I had just heard.

Something was clearly off here. Wasn’t I supposed to leave, giving him time to brainstorm, then receive either an acceptance or rejection email later? What the hell?

“You begin tomorrow,” he said, handing me a pen. “Sign here if you’re interested, and the sum of twenty million dollars will be prepared for you and when you’ve got the job done, it’ll be deposited into your account.”

I took the pen with trembling hands but put down my signature immediately after he mentioned the money—just enough to get me everything I needed.

“Now that that’s settled, pack up your bags. The driver will be there to pick you up tomorrow,” he smirked.

“Wait, why?” I asked, confusion etched all over my face.

“You’ll be staying at Green City with my son, Alejandro Montenegro. That’s who you’ll be working for.”

My eyes widened as my mind wandered off to the recent magazine cover I had seen of Alejandro—his chiseled abs displayed in perfection and his pretty, never-smiling face.

If that was who I’d be working with 24/7, then how the hell was I supposed to do my job without wanting to taste his cock?