Whispers of the Damned

Five years later.

Mondays are hell for many people, and I'm definitely one of them. Although I don't have a nine-to-five job, Mondays still bother me. It doesn't matter if it's the trend or just because I'm getting older and lazier.

My eyes were still sticky when Joanna yelled in my room. It was for no reason. Just because she wanted to disturb my sound sleep. "¡MALDITA ZORRA! ¡DESPIERTA!" Bitch! Wake up.

After almost seven years of living with her, I should have gotten used to this. No doubt, I'm used to it. But, sometimes, I still felt annoyed by her random behavior and her madness, which sometimes annoyed me.

I growled when the weight of her body fell on me. I was still sleeping on my stomach, and she was on top of me, and damn it, she was so heavy.

"Jo! Fuck!" I cursed, changing my position, I pushed her all the way to the edge, and then there was the sound of her falling to the floor. I lifted my face from the pillow and looked at her. I laughed at her, who was screaming in pain. "You're going to die." I dropped my face back onto the pillow and snorted in exasperation. "Mess with me again and you'll know the consequences."

"If only you hadn't scheduled a meeting with Karem Masson, I wouldn't be in this much trouble, you idiot."

I opened my eyes again and took a harsh breath. "Fuck. Fuck," I said as I sat up in bed and stared at the digital clock on my nightstand. "Damn it, Joanna. Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"I did, Perra. You scolded me instead." She stood up while holding her ass.

I snorted, got off my bed right away, grabbed my towel, and went into the bathroom after grabbing my best friend's hair. Joanna yelled, and her quick steps followed me into the bathroom. I had already locked it, leaving her with a string of her spanish curses.

One hour later, I'm sitting in a lobby chair in one of San Francisco's skyscrapers in a cheap work suit I got at the dollar store, but it's so far from what I imagined, so much more excellent and so well-worn that I look like I'm wearing a million- dollar outfit from a famous brand that my mom likes to buy.

I snorted, staring at my phone which showed a lot of calls from my mother. There were twenty this morning, and I slept so well that I didn't hear anything. But even if I didn't sleep, I wouldn't pick up her calls. I won't until she stops her grumbling because she's unhappy about me intending to work again.

The slow steps heading towards me made me stare ahead. At the Colombian man so familiar to my eyes, I pressed my lips together as he approached me.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a thick face of dislike.

I swallowed harshly. "To see Karem Masson. He is one of the employees of the property company in your building." I replied. "What for?" he asked.

"He offered me to work as an IT developer at the hotel they were building in Los Angeles." I said quietly. "The company is Royal Ridge, by the way." The property company was quite famous in U.S, being the number one property company in America and Europe.

"Why do they have an office in my building, then? Why don't they just buy a bigger building and work here?" he asked in surprise. "I also know that their employees in Los Angeles are still working in rented buildings."

"They just started construction in California." I said, as I quoted an article on one of the business websites on the Internet. "From what I know, the owner of Royal Ridge wants their own buildings, which is essentially the kind of he wants. That's why, they're working in a rented building first, and will move in once it's completed."

"They can wait for that at their headquarters in New York instead of moving employees here."

"Their employees are looking for new people for the company, and looking for employees to help develop Royal Ridge California. Like me."

He frowned at me, displeased. "You can find another job."

I snorted at him.

Like all of the Rodriguez and their protectiveness of the women in our family, Damien Rodriguez gave me a quizzical look before sighing. He was no different from my father and my two other brothers, who were so protective and almost psycho, always detailed and vigilant about everything around me. Plus, I was the only girl in our big family, so security around me was tight, so they made me stay in San Francisco, where Rodriguez was in charge, instead of in New York, or Chicago, or any other states in U.S.

It annoyed me because whenever I went out, I could accidentally bump into Damien and his minions, or my father's people while walking around. It was like a reminder that I couldn't get my freedom back until I died after the events of five years ago.

"If you need a job, you just need to ask me." Damien snorted with annoyance before he sat down beside me. Almost everyone who passed by in the lobby was staring at us. He pulled out the paper that was on my lap and read it. "You don't have to overdo it, Cabron. I can find my own job." I hissed at him. "Everyone's staring. I'll probably be the target of gossip from the warm womb ladies who chasing you." I said with annoyance.

"You have quite a lot of experience. I'm so surprised Papa let you get this far." He said, ignoring my babbling.

I grabbed my paper. "That's because I'm the most favored child." I snorted at him.

He rolled his eyes at my words. "Just go home. You don't have to do this. Los Angeles is too risky."

"You said as long as I'm on the West Coast, everything will be fine."

"Right, but Abraham is in Madelin for a few months. No one can take care of you."

"Why did he come home?"

"There's a thing."

There must have been some dangerous things that were none of my business. I held my tongue to ask what our eldest brother was up to. "I work virtually. Mr. Masson said that I may only visit Los Angeles occasionally. Not that I'm going to move there." I replied. I didn't want to be under Abraham's heavy guard anyway because he was like our Papa on a harsher level. He would monopolize my miserable life.

"That's better." He said. "You can say my name or our last name if you want things to go smoothly."

"Sorry, but unlike those Rodriguez men who sell their names and looks, I choose to sell the knowledge in my brain," I said sarcastically.

Damien laughed. "That's because you're ugly."

"But you all don't have the wit and intelligence that I do." I smacked his arm, and he dodged with laughter.

It stopped when a woman in a tight red dress approached me while saying my name.

"Daniella Gomez?" she asked me.

"It should be Rodriguez," I ignored Damien's quiet mutterings.

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I nodded and smiled at her. "Yes, Miss."

"It is your turn, Miss Gomez. Mr. Masson is waiting for you in his office." She smiled at me. "Come, follow me."

I nodded. "Thank you," I said, standing up and picking up my phone on the sofa. I followed her and looked back while pointing at the woman's ass in front of me to Damien, who immediately shook his head laughing. I gave him my middle finger before walking back to follow the sexy ass in front of me.

She took me to the fourth floor where Karem Masson's office was located. There are many companies that rent a few floors in Damien's building as their office, so they don't have to bother with building their own building which is more expensive. I once counted that there were nearly twenty companies here.

My brother's building is very large, and is the biggest building in San Francisco. For this cleaning business, Damien is quite creative compared to our other siblings.

I pulled a nervous smile as I walked into the large room. A man with a thick beard in a neat suit was sitting behind a desk, staring at his laptop before standing up and seeing us coming. He smiled kindly, and I returned the same smile before I approached. His hand extended first, and I awkwardly accepted his handshake.

"Karem Masson. Welcome to Royal Ridge."

I shake our handshake. "Daniella Gomez. Nice to meet you, and glad you invited me to come."

"Nice to meet you too, Miss. Gomez." He released our handshake and invited me to sit down.

I sat down, facing him while wringing my fingers. After all, this was my first time doing a real job interview. I'm usually a freelancer, and don't need anything other than a CV and some ideas. But this... this formal one, which was so awkward and made me nervous.

"So can we start now?" asked Karem Masson.

I nodded and smiled nervously.

"No need to be nervous, Ms. Gomez. Just relax a little. I won't ask you any weird questions. I just want to see your resume and bio."NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

Oh, yeah, that's a relief. "I'm sorry. It's just that this is too formal. I'm not used to it." I chuckled softly. I pulled the thick folder from my arms and put it on the table.

***

It lasted for an hour, went smoothly, and was as subtle as I wanted it to be. He didn't ask strange questions or anything outside of work. He was polite and gentle with me. I'm starting to be able to like Royal Ridge now.

I was sitting on the sofa when a notification appeared on my phone. I picked my phone from the folder and smiled slightly when I saw the message was from Jason, my boyfriend.

From: Jason.

Are you done yet? I've been waiting for you outside Rodrigo's building. We could hang out for a while at a nearby beachside cafe while enjoying the sunset.

To: Jason.

I'm done, and that's a good idea. I'm out now.

I start to stand up and get out of there as quickly as possible before Damien gets cranky with me again, especially if he finds out that I'm going with Jason. He'd do anything to keep me from going with my boyfriend. "Where are you going, huh?" He appeared just as I was thinking. He had just finished talking to his employee, and he walked right up to me.

If you're loving the book, nel5s.org is where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience-all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you! "Going home."

"I'll take you home. We can have dinner for a while."

"I already have plans with my friends."

"You don't have any friends."

"I do," I replied angrily about how he was belittling me. Of course, I have friends, not many, but I do.

"Who are your friends, or is that your bald-headed boyfriend?"

"He's not bald," I replied with annoyance. He was blind because he couldn't see the thick hair on Jason's head. "And yes, I'm going with him, so I can't go home with you."

"He's bald, and wears a wig when he goes out with you." He said with an exasperated snort. "Besides, I've told you several times that you can't be with him anymore, Princesa." "You should have given a clear reason other than your crazy assumptions about him!" I retorted. "I'm not in the mood to argue, but now I have to go."

"He's Italian," Damien hissed softly. "You know we don't deal with Italians."

"Not all Italians are mafia, estúpido," I replied.

"You're right, but he is a rich man."

"He has everything the clean way. I'm sure his parents did, too." I snorted. "Get over it, I have to go now."

"You know how it was the last time you were with an Italian guy."

I froze and composed myself before I could answer. "Of all the people in the world, it's unlikely to be the same," I said. "Let's end this pointless debate. I have to go now."

"It could be the same," he growled. "If something happens to you.."

"Yes, yes, yes. I'll call you." I cut him off before kissing his cheek and leaving him outside the lobby to walk towards the Porche parked in the courtyard.

A handsome man in a blue shirt got out of it and smiled at me. I smiled broadly at him.

Of all the Italian men in San Francisco, Jason Bernardi would not be one of the men to ever ruin my life.

He never would.

***