The seat was incredibly soft. Pure luxury.

But my tired mind failed to catch the silent warning.

I sank into the leather, closed my eyes for a second…

And it was the best dream I had in weeks.

Until a deep and clearly amused voice pierced my unconscious:

—Do you usually get into other people’s cars or am I special?

I opened my eyes startled. Panic ran through my body as I realized I was not alone.

I could feel his presence. Their expensive perfume, probably more expensive than my rent in the Narvarte neighborhood.

Tailor-made suit. That calculated disorder that the rich master easily.

And the face…

Defined jaw. Dark eyes that watched me with curiosity. A smile that irritated me… and disarmed me at the same time.

—I’m sorry… I thought it was my Uber.

—Technically, that’s what you did. And you snored for twenty minutes.

—I don’t snore.

—If you do. A bit. Was… adorable.

I looked around again

Touch screen. Noble wood finishes. Minibar.

—You are not an Uber driver…

—Definitely not.

It adapted naturally.

—I’m Gabriel Albuquerque. And this is my car. The one you stole to take a nap.

The name didn’t tell me anything at the time. But the confidence with which he said it made it clear to me that I had to say something.

He was someone important.

Very rich

—I’m so sorry. I worked all day, I studied all night… I’m leaving.

When I grabbed the handle, he asked me:

—It’s almost 11:30. Where in the city do you live?

—That’s none of your business.

He smiled.

After sleeping in my car, I think I may worry a little less about your safety. I’ll take you.

I should have said no.

But walking alone around the city at that time was not a good idea.

—Alright. But if it turns out he’s a serial killer, I’m going to be furious.

-Annotated.

He hit the glass that separated him from the driver.

—Ricardo, we can go.

The car slid down the avenues of Mexico City with a smoothness that no shared Uber could match.

“Why are you so tired?” asked.

—Full time job. Two jobs. I sleep four or five hours hopefully.

—That is not sustainable.

—Life is not the same for everyone.

—No. But you shouldn’t destroy yourself either.

When we arrived at my modest building, I noticed how he was carefully observing the streets.

He was about to go downstairs when he said:

—I need a personal assistant. The salary is high. Flexible schedule.

I froze.

“What?”

He took a card out of his jacket.

Someone to organize my schedule, answer emails, coordinate my house when I travel. And you clearly need a job that doesn’t kill you.

—I don’t need charity.

—It’s not charity. It’s a fair deal.

I took the card

Gabriel Albuquerque — Executive director