How Do You Say I Know Elena in Spanish Brainly

  Copyright © 2021 by Elena Armas

All rights reserved.

Visit my website at world wide web.authorelenaarmas.com

Cover Design: Ella Maise and Elena Armas

Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, world wide web.unforeseenediting.com

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in whatever course or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or past any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a volume review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author'due south imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Contents

Chapter 1

Affiliate 2

Chapter iii

Chapter iv

Chapter 5

Chapter half dozen

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Affiliate 13

Affiliate 14

Chapter 15

Affiliate 16

Chapter 17

Chapter xviii

Chapter xix

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Affiliate 22

Chapter 23

Affiliate 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

About the Writer

Acknowledgments

To those chasing dreams,

never give up on them.

We are non quitters, y'all hear me?

Chapter 1

"I'll be your date to the wedding."

Words I had never—not even in my wildest dreams, and trust me, I had a vivid imagination—conceived of hearing from that deep and rich tone reached my ears.

Looking downwardly at my coffee, I squinted my optics, trying to search for any signs of noxious substances floating around. That would at to the lowest degree explicate what was happening. Merely nope.

Nada. But what was left of my Americano.

"I'll exercise it if you need someone that badly," the deep voice came again.

Eyes growing wide, I lifted my head. I opened my mouth then snapped it closed once again.

"Rosie …" I trailed off, the give-and-take leaving me in a whisper. "Is he really there? Can you see him? Or did someone spike my coffee without me noticing?"

Rosie—my best friend and colleague in InTech, the New York City–based engineering consulting company, where we had met and worked—slowly nodded her head. I watched her dark curls bounce with the motility, an expression of atheism marring her otherwise soft features. She lowered her voice. "Nope. He's right there." Her head peeked around me very quickly. "Hullo. Good morning!" she said brightly earlier her attention returned to my face. "Right behind y'all."

Lips parted, I stared at my friend for a long moment. We were standing at the far terminate of the hallway of the eleventh floor of the InTech headquarters. Both our offices were relatively close together, so the moment I had entered the building located in the heart of Manhattan, in the vicinity of Central Park, I had gone straight to her role.

My plan had been to take hold of Rosie and plop downwards on the upholstered wooden armchairs that served as a waiting sitting expanse for visiting clients, which were unremarkably unoccupied this early in the morning. But we never made it. I somehow dropped the flop earlier we ever saturday down. That was how much my predicament needed Rosie'south immediate attention. And and then … so he had materialized out of nowhere.

"Should I repeat that a third time?" His question sent a new wave of disbelief rushing downwards my body, freezing the claret in my veins.

He wouldn't. Non because he couldn't, only because what he was saying did non make whatever freaking sense. Not in our world. I where we—

"All right, fine," he sighed. "You can have me." He paused, sending more of that ice-cold wariness through me. "To your sister's wedding."

My spine locked upwards.

My shoulders stiffened.

I even felt the satin blouse I had tucked into my camel slacks stretch with the sudden motion.

I can take him.

To my sister's wedding.

As my … appointment?

I blinked, his words echoing inside my head.

Then, something unhitched inside of me. The absurdity of whatever this was—whatever perverse joke this man I knew not to trust was trying to pull off—made a snort bubble its way upwards my pharynx and reach my lips, leaving me quickly and loudly. Every bit if it had been in a rush to leave.

A grunt came from behind me. "What's and then funny?" His vocalization dropped, turning colder. "I'm completely serious."

I bit back some other burst of laughter. I didn't believe that. Non for a second. "The chances of him," I told Rosie, "being really serious are the same chances I take of having Chris Evans pop out of nowhere and confess his undying love for me." I made a show of looking right and left. "Nonexistent. So, Rosie, you were saying something about … Mr. Frenkel, right?"

In that location was no Mr. Frenkel.

"Lina," Rosie said with that fake, toothy smile I knew she wore when she didn't want to be rude. "He looks similar he'southward serious," she spoke through her freaky smiling. Her gaze inspected the man standing backside me. "Yep. I think he might be serious."

"Nope. He tin't be." I shook my head, all the same refusing to turn around and acknowledge that there was a possibility my friend was correct.

In that location couldn't be. At that place was no way Aaron Blackford, colleague and well-established affliction of mine, would even endeavor to offer something like that. No. Way.

An impatient sigh came from backside me. "This is getting repetitive, Catalina." A long pause. Then, another noisy exhale left his lips, this ane much longer. But I did not turn around. I held my ground. "Ignoring me won't make me disappear. Yous know that."

I did. "Merely that doesn't mean I won't keep trying," I muttered under my jiff.

Rosie leveled me with a await. Then, she peeked effectually me again, keeping that toothy smiling in place. "Sad about that, Aaron. We are non ignoring y'all." Her smile strained. "We are … debating something."

"We are ignoring him though. You lot don't need to spare his feelings. He doesn't have any."

"Thanks, Rosie," Aaron told my friend, some of the usual coldness leaving his vocalisation. Not that he'd be nice to anybody. Nice wasn't something Aaron did. I didn't even call back he was able to pull off friendly. But he had always been less … grim when information technology came to Rosie. A treatment that had never been for me. "Do you think you lot can tell Catalina to turn around? I'd capeesh talking to her face and not to the dorsum of her head." His tone dropped back to minus naught degrees. "That is, of course, if this is not 1 of her jokes that I never seem to understand, much less find funny."

Heat rushed upward my trunk, reaching my face.

"Sure," Rosie complied. "I think … I think I can do that." My friend's gaze bounced from that indicate behind me to my face, her eyebrows raised. "Lina, so, erm, Aaron would similar you lot to turn around if this is non i of those jokes that—"

"Thank you, Rosie. I got that," I gritted out between my teeth. Feeling my cheeks burn, I refused to face him. That would hateful letting him win whatsoever game he was playing. Plus, he had but called me unfunny. Him. "If you could, tell Aaron that I don't recall one can laugh at, or much less understand, jokes when 1 lacks a humor, please. That would be great. Thank you."

Rosie scratched the side of her head, looking pleadingly at me

. Don't make me exercise this, she seemed to ask me with her eyes.

I widened mine at her, ignoring her plea and begging her to go forth.

She released a breath and and so looked around me i more time. "Aaron," she said, her fake grin getting bigger, "Lina thinks that—"

"I heard her, Rosie. Thank you."

I was so attuned to him—to this—that I noticed the slight change in his tone that signaled the switch to the vocalization he only used with me. The one that was just as dry and common cold merely that would now come with an actress layer of disdain and altitude. The one that would soon lead to a scowl. I didn't fifty-fifty need to plough and take a expect at him to know that. It was somehow always at that place when it came to me and to this … thing between united states.

"I'g pretty sure my words are reaching Catalina down in that location just fine, but if you could tell her that I have work to do and I cannot entertain this much longer, I would appreciate it."

Down at that place?

Stupidly large homo.

My size was average. Average for a Spaniard, sure. Merely boilerplate nonetheless. I was five human foot iii—almost 4, give thanks you lot very much.

Rosie's light-green eyes were back on me. "So, Aaron has work, and he would capeesh—"

"If—" I stopped myself when I heard the word sounding high-pitched and squeaky. I cleared my throat and tried again. "If he is and then decorated, then please tell him to experience free to spare me. He can become back to his function and resume whatever workaholic activities he had shockingly paused to stick his olfactory organ in something that does not concern him."

I watched my friend's oral cavity open, merely the man behind me spoke earlier a sound could come out of her lips, "Then, you lot heard what I said. My offer. Good." A pause. In which I cursed under my breath. "And so, what's your reply?"

Rosie's face filled with stupor 1 more than time. My gaze remained on her, and I could moving picture how the dark brownish in my eyes was turning to red with my growing exasperation.

My answer? What the hell was he even trying to accomplish? Was this a new, inventive way of playing with my head? My sanity?

"I have no thought what he's talking about. I heard naught," I lied. "You lot can tell him that also."

Rosie tucked a whorl behind her ear, her eyes jumping very briefly to Aaron and so returning to me. "I remember he's referring to the moment he offered to be your appointment to your sister's nuptials," she explained with a soft vocalism. "You know, right subsequently you lot told me that things had changed and that yous now needed to find someone—or anyone, I think you said—to go to Spain with you and attend that hymeneals considering, otherwise, yous'd die a deadening, painful death and—"

"I think I got it," I rushed out, feeling my face burn again from the realization that Aaron had heard all of that. "Cheers, Rosie. Yous tin finish with the epitomize." Or I'd be dying that deadening, painful decease right about now.

"I think you used the give-and-take desperate," Aaron chipped in.

My ears burned, probably flashing nigh 5 shades of radioactive ruby. "I did non," I breathed out. "I did not use that word."

"You lot … sort of did, sweetie," my best friend—no, former best friend as of right now—confirmed.

Optics narrowed, I mouthed, What the hell, traitor?

But both of them were right.

"Fine. Then, I said that. Doesn't mean I'm that desperate."

"That's what truly helpless people would say. Merely whatever makes you sleep better at night, Catalina."

Cursing under my breath for the umpteenth time that morning, I closed my optics briefly. "This is none of your business, Blackford, but I'm not helpless, okay? And I sleep at night just fine. No, really, I've never slept improve."

What was one more lie to the pile I was hoisting effectually, huh?

Reverse to what I had just denied, I was truly, helplessly desperate to find someone to be my date to that wedding. But that didn't mean I'd—

"Certain."

Ironically, out of all the damn words Aaron Blackford had said to the back of my caput that morn, that 1 discussion was what made me break my stance to pretend I remained unaffected.

That sure, sounding all condescending and bored and dismissive and just so Aaron.

Sure.

My blood bubbled.

Information technology was so impulsive, such a human knee-wiggle reaction to that 4-letter word—which, uttered by anybody else, would have meant naught—that I didn't even realize my body was turning until it was too late.

Because of his unearthly height, I was welcomed by a broad chest covered in a pressed white button-down that made me crawling to fist the fabric and wrinkle it with my hands considering who pranced through life then sleek and spotless all the damn time? Aaron Blackford—that was who.

My gaze trailed up rounded shoulders and a strong neck, reaching the straight line of his jaw. His lips pressed flatly, just like I had known they would. My eyes traveled farther up then, reaching his blue ones—blue that reminded me of the depths of the ocean, where everything was cold and deadly—and finding them on me.

One of his brows rose.

"Sure?" I hissed.

"Yes." That caput, topped with raven hair, gave one single nod, his gaze not leaving mine. "I don't desire to waste material more than time arguing about something y'all are likewise stubborn to admit, so yes. Certain."

This infuriating blue-eyed homo who probably spent more fourth dimension ironing his clothes than interacting with other human beings was non going to brand me lose my temper this early in the morn.

Fighting to keep my body under control, I inhaled a long, deep breath. I tucked a lock of chestnut hair behind my ear. "If this is such a waste matter of time, I genuinely don't know what you lot are still doing here. Please don't stay on my or Rosie's account."

A noncommittal dissonance left Miss Traitor's mouth.

"I would have," Aaron admitted in a level tone. "Only y'all still haven't answered my question."

"That wasn't a question," I said, the words tasting sour in my natural language. "Any you said was non a question. Merely that'south non important considering I don't need you, thank you very much."

"Sure," he repeated, turning my exasperation 1 notch upward. "Although I think y'all do."

"You recollect incorrect."

That brow rose higher. "And nonetheless it sounded similar you really do demand me."

"Then, you must be experiencing serious hearing issues because, yet once more, you heard wrong. I don't demand you, Aaron Blackford." I swallowed, willing some of the dryness away. "I could write information technology down for you lot if yous desire. Send you an email, too, if that'd help at all."

He seemed to think near it for a second, looking uninterested. But I knew better than to believe he'd let information technology get and then easily. Which he proved every bit soon as he opened his mouth again. "Didn't you say the wedding is in a month and y'all don't have a appointment?"

My lips pressed in a tight line. "Maybe. I can't recall exactly."

I had said that. Give-and-take for word.

"Didn't Rosie propose that if you lot perhaps sat in the back and tried not to draw any attending to yourself, nobody would detect you were attending on your ain?"

My friend'south head popped into my field of vision. "I did. I too suggested to wear a ho-hum color and non the stunning red dress that—"

"Rosie," I interrupted her. "Not really helping hither."

Aaron's eyes didn't waver when he resumed his walk downwards retentivity lane. "Didn't you lot follow that by reminding Rosie that you lot were the motherfreaking—your word—maid of honor and therefore everybody and their female parent—your words over again—would notice you anyhow?"

"She did," I heard Miss Traitor confirm. My head whirled in her management. "What?" She shrugged, signing her expiry sentence. "Yous did, beloved."

I needed new friends. ASAP.

"She did," Aaron corroborated, drawing my gaze and attention back to him. "And did you not say that your ex-boyfriend is the all-time human being and thinking of standing in the vicinity of him, alone and lame and pathetically single�

�those were your words once again—made yous want to tear off your ain skin?"

I had. I had said that. But I hadn't thought Aaron was listening; otherwise, I would have never admitted it out loud.

Just he had been right at that place, plainly. He knew now. He had heard me openly acknowledge that and had simply thrown it at my face. And as much as I told myself I didn't intendance—that I shouldn't care—the pang of hurt was in that location all the same. It fabricated me feel all the more than alone, lame, and pathetic.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I averted my eyes, letting them rest somewhere shut to his Adam'southward apple tree. I didn't want to see whatever was in his face. Mockery. Pity. I didn't care. I could spare the knowledge of one more person thinking of me that way.

His throat was the one that worked then. I knew because it was the only part of him I allowed myself to look at.

"You lot are drastic."

I exhaled, the air leaving my lips forcefully. I nod—that was all I gave him. And I didn't even understand why I had done information technology. This wasn't me. I usually fought back until I was the one who drew claret first. Because that was what we did. Nosotros didn't spare each other's feelings. This wasn't new.

"And so, take me. I volition be your date to the wedding, Catalina."

My gaze drew upward very slowly, a strange mix of wariness and embarrassment washing over me. Him witnessing all this was bad plenty, merely him somehow trying to utilise it to his reward? To become the better of me?

Unless he wasn't. Unless perchance there was an explanation, a reason, equally to why he was doing this. Offering himself to be my engagement.

Studying his face, I pondered all these options and possible motivations, non coming to whatsoever kind of reasonable determination. Not finding any possible answer that would aid me understand why or what he was trying to accomplish.

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