What Padre Wants, Padre Gets

ALEJANDRO

“I got your message,” I said. My father had asked me to meet him right away.

“Sí,” he said. “That woman, we nearly hit her. She just stepped into the road and fainted. We were lucky we didn’t hit her. I had to make sure she was all right.”

“Who is she?” I tried to remember what the woman in the bed looked like. She was cute, but nobody I knew. It wasn’t like my father to go out of his way for a stranger like this.

“It doesn’t matter who she is,” he said. “It matters who I am. I am the man who takes responsibility for what happens to the people around me.”

His words knocked me back. My sense of urgency deflated. I’d been trying to find him because I needed to know what he wanted from me. He’d only left a message saying there was something he needed me to take care of. He was sending a message—with his talk of responsibility—and it irritated me.

I ~did~ make an effort to take care of the people around me. I didn’t need him to tell me that.

The outside world knew him as Armando Gonzalez, the billionaire chairman and sole owner of Gonzalez Industries—a man who was the personification of power and charisma. And as such, he kept that image outside when he made his rare appearances.

But I knew who he really was.

I knew he was broken.

I was broken by the same thing. My mother, his wife, had abandoned both of us when I was young. It hurt me to see my father and role model looking guarded and heartbroken. The hurt and anger I felt was what pushed me to be the man I am today.

And as much as I adored my father, I had vowed to avoid his fate. I was never going to fall for a woman the way he had. Sure, I liked to play with women. But every time I met one I liked, I’d imagine the faces of our children. That kept me clear about what we were doing. I didn’t want to hurt those children too, so I kept my women at a distance. I would protect my heart so that I could take care of my father and his business.

We stood in the hospital hallway. Not a great spot for a business meeting. The ceiling was too low and the fluorescent light overhead buzzed.

“You called me about business, Padre?”

“Have the preparations for tomorrow’s meeting been made?”

“Sí,” I replied.

He didn’t say anything after that. Clearly, there was something more.

“Will that be all, Padre?” I made myself be patient with him. I loved my father, even if he was extremely good at irritating me.

“No.” His green exuberant eyes reflected a glint of power. There was something else, maybe a hint of amusement.

“There is a charity event at City Hall next week. My good friend, Don Horacio, will be there. He is one of the other major donors. He looks forward to meeting you.”

“I’ll have to admit it has been a while,” I said. My father knew so many people.

“Sí,” he said. “The last time he saw you, you were but a child. He is hoping to have a brief chat with you.”

“About business?”

“Most likely. I expect you to represent me more and more as time goes on.”

“I know, Padre. Whatever you need.”

I turned to leave. Things felt unfinished between us, but maybe he just wanted to get back to being a hero to the woman in the room.

“One more thing,” my father called out.

I paused. “Yes, Padre?”

“You will have to bring a significant other to the event,” he said.

“You mean like a date?” I was a little bit horrified and surprised that he’d make this demand. He hated my girlfriends. “But I thought it was just a charity event. Not some kind of dinner.”

“While you are correct,” my father walked toward me. “I want you to give him and everyone the image you are meant to portray. You represent me, and you can’t be a young man forever.”

His look had a deep meaning.

“Padre, you know I don’t…” I protested. I didn’t want to say it aloud, and he didn’t need to hear it. He knew I didn’t have anyone I was serious about.

“Alejandro.” He stopped me. “I’m not getting any younger, and my emotional state declines each passing day. With what happened years ago, I haven’t gotten over it.” He sighed.

“I haven’t gotten over her.” He looked me straight in the eye.

I felt a twinge of anger at the statement. He’d never admitted it in plain language. I knew he meant my mother. And I felt a little affronted at him making his heartbreak more important than mine. She had been his wife, but she was my mother. When she’d left us, I’d lost my mother.

But I had to respect my father, so I nodded and kept my mouth shut.

“Your frolicking around with women isn’t helping matters. You’ll be thirty years old soon. This playing you do has to stop. You can do better than I did. You must find a woman who can show up in public with you. Someone decent. This isn’t forever. It’s practice. You have one week to find a decent girl.”

He patted my shoulder and walked back into the hospital room.

I clenched my fists. A date? Why in the hell should I bring a date? He knew very well that I don’t do relationships. It was a waste of time. Women only ever understood one language—money. And that was the only thing that attracted them to me like bees to honey. I knew I was good-looking, but women were just playthings. They were just meant for satisfaction.

My phone rang at that moment. I pulled it out and saw the name displayed on the ID—Natalie.

“Speaking of playthings,” I muttered. I was feeling a little desperate to find someone whom my father would accept, so I took the call.

“Hello.”

“Alejandro.” Her alluring voice rang at the other end. “I’ve been getting that itch again. I need you.”

I felt irritated with her already. “I thought we had an agreement that I was not to be called during the business week. It’s Tuesday afternoon.” I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.

“I know, but it’s been too long.”

“I entertained you last weekend.”

“Still too long by my standards. You know no man can get my engines going like you do.”

I felt like she meant it, but I never believed women like her. She probably said that to any man who pulled an eight-figure salary. I got tested regularly, but I never asked my women who else they were seeing.

I had to rule her out as a candidate for the charity event. She wouldn’t embarrass me in a group, but I knew my father would hate her. She was only really good for one thing, and I needed to release some stress. I put up with her because I liked her killer curves and I liked her dirty talk during our romps. Anything else was a zero to me.

“Aren’t your vibrators cutting it?” I asked. I could use a little of her dirty talk now.

“Alejandro.” Her voice sounded a bit stern.

“Fine. Book a room at that hotel and text me the number when you’re done. I’ll be right over.”

“Thank you, baby!” I heard her squeal.

“Whatever.” I cut the call.

I was going to walk right back to my car, but I hesitated. I was still irritated with my father for demanding I find a decent date for his event and only giving me a week to do it.

I opened the door to the woman’s hospital room. I wasn’t done with my father.