Miami, 2012.
In an office on the top floor of a building in Miami, a small meeting took place. A distinguished-looking older man began to speak. "I've heard a lot of good things about you, Mr. Aréchiga. A close friend of mine told me that you're the best when it comes to personal protection. You will be responsible for safeguarding my most valuable asset," stated the magnate, Mr. Jones, owner of Jones Enterprise, a multinational specializing in the buying and selling of industries, as he spoke to me. "Yes, I have plenty of useful skills for that. But tell me, what is it that's so valuable that I should be protecting?" I responded. "My daughter, Camila Jones. For several weeks, we've been receiving serious threats to her safety, and we need your support. The job will be around the clock; you'll have to move into my mansion. Additionally, I need you to improve the security systems in the house," the magnate commented. "I can move in right away, and did my friend tell you about my fees?" I asked. "Yes, they are perfectly affordable for someone like me," the magnate replied. We concluded the meeting with a handshake and the signing of a contract.
The chauffeur drove me to Sunset Island, to an impressive property. I had never seen a mansion of that size in my life. The housekeeper led me to the room designated for me, which was the size of an average loft—nothing too luxurious, but everything necessary for comfortable living.
The first thing I did once I was settled was to check the camera system and noticed malfunctions in some of them, as well as an outdated alarm system. I spoke with the head of house security, and we scheduled the acquisition of new models and repairs in the coming days. From the staff, I learned that Mr. Jones rarely visited the mansion; he was always traveling, and his daughter practically lived alone.
I went to my room to take a bath and freshen up a bit, as I would soon be introduced to Camila. I put on my usual suit, black sunglasses, a small Beretta 94FSP with a silencer at my side, an earpiece radio, and my hands. I went to the mansion's reception and waited.
A murmur announced her arrival. I saw a small yet commanding figure, a 20-year-old girl, elegantly dressed, exuding beauty, walking straight toward me. She approached and said, "I hope you do your job properly and don't interrupt or hinder my activities." She continued, "I hope you address me as little as possible, only when necessary. Remember, you are my employee," all the while feeling her gaze scrutinizing me from head to toe.
We headed to her room, and I waited outside for about 2 hours until she emerged, elegantly dressed and ready for the evening meeting she had. During the journey, she mentioned, "My father mentioned that you were going to review the security of the house. How is that going?" I replied, "I've already taken steps for that, as well as the changes that will be made in the coming days." She retorted, "I hope you're not one of those brute bodyguards who only use their physical strength to control everything, no use of weapons, we need to be discreet." I simply nodded in response.
I thought, "A good start to a new job. It seems that the fate of my life is to take care of spoiled girls."
Inside the restaurant, I discreetly stayed out of her sight, in a position where I had control of the entire situation. She excelled, possessing a natural ability for public relations and business. She spoke with great confidence, presenting scenarios and contracts like the best of entrepreneurs. I thought, "At least she's intelligent," while longing for a good cigar, but it was impossible to smoke at that moment.
After a couple of hours, we returned to the mansion, and without saying goodbye, she conveyed with a glance that I should go to my room.