Chapter 3 - An Unpleasant Encounter (Francisco's POV)

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Hello, lovelies! (: So I guess this is not a new chapter but in a way, it is. I really wanted to get inside Francisco's head for this chappie so here it is. I hope you enjoy it and please remember to vote, comment, and fan if you do! Thanks for reading and I hope you're having a fantastic summer! :D <3

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~Cisco~

I had just walked away from the lobby, having been given the room number for the new client’s room. I was sleepy as hell and the coffee I drank just minutes ago hadn’t kicked in yet so I was very irritable, indeed very pissed. Hmm. Maybe I should calm down before I scare the hell out of the client. I though, then I rolled my eyes at myself and scoffed, causing some prim and proper woman to give me a dirty look. 

I stuck my tongue out at her like a child just to see her reaction and, man, did I laugh at it. The old woman, dressed in about fifteen little red foxes, covered her mouth with her wrinkly manicured hand. I waved and left, laughing to myself, and I already felt better. All I had to do to get in a better mood was stick my tongue out an old rich lady.

If my client is as obviously snobby and stuck up as that woman, five million dollars or not, I’m hauling ass. Maybe. 

How can a person living in a place like this, The Plaza, be anything but a snob? Everything was flawless, wealthy, elegant, and posh in its white marbles and intricate designs. I would never live here because I’m afraid it would make me barf endlessly from the hideous perfection of it. Then I remembered that if I took this job I would most likely be practically living in this elegant puke-hole for a while. I would have cried if I was a chick. 

Sighing, I went to the golden elevators and pressed the up button. I ran my finger on the golden surface, making a face, was this real gold? Nah, can’t be. I looked up to find another old woman eyeing me with speculation. I waved at her and she looked taken aback. What? Have these people never seen a hot hispanic man before? Sheesh. 

I almost cursed from the irony when the elevator opened and a bell hop stood in there. Are they fucking serious? A bell hop inside the elevator to actually press the buttons for you? That is the height of laziness, people. 

Once I got in he asked me the floor number but I simply gave him a smug smile and pressed it myself then waited for my floor. 

I got off and knocked on the room door once I found it, the white double doors opening almost instantly. A woman, about forty-something, looked up at me from where she stood, looking frail and sick, really sick. She was tall for a woman, about five feet and six inches, with dark hair, wide brown eyes, and sickly pale skin that very lightly coated her thin body. She should have reminded me of my mother but rather I thought of my grandmother and I wanted to help her sit down, get her a glass of water or something.

“Mr. Medina, I’m Josephine. I’m really glad you made it.” Josephine said, her voice a bit rough, just as I remembered it from her phone call. The woman held her hand out to me and I shook it, careful not to crush the thin bones. 

“Glad to be here, Mrs. Belvedere.” I said formally but with a smile. She was no danger and I wanted to be kind to her, my pathetic heart immediately softening. Mrs. Belvedere didn’t give off a snobby air so guarding her didn't seem so bad after all. 

“Come in.” She said, giving me a warm smile and stepping aside to let me in. I walked inside the  apartment, as elegant as everything else, and stood still, towering over her by half a foot. 

“Would you like anything to eat or drink?” She asked, looking at me with anxiety in her eyes. 

I shook my head and smiled, “No, thank you.” 

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