Evil Genius.

She was light hearted, he appreciated that greatly. “Oh well I think it might just be a bit of both,” he shrugs. He was always told it was always rude to ask a woman her age and has since never even bothered guessing. Ultimately preferring to just go with whatever his initial assumption was. 

“I always thought that was a complement.” he said with an absent minded raise of his brows. He loses focus for a bit, glancing around his own office before looking back at Sadie. “You don’t know that,” he says, his lips revealing a sly smile. As she leans in, he follows and rest his chin in his palm. “Miss.Sadie, I’m as transparent as they come,” he can’t even say it with a straight face as the sly smile he attempted to mask earlier develops in to a charismatic grin. “If you want the truth, I’d like to take you to dinner, I just thought sweetening the pot would make you more inclined to say yes,” He leans back into his seat motioning for a response. “Is that transparent enough for you?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t one,” Lola pointed out. She shook her head with a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I really don’t.” She quirked an eyebrow at Rafa, challenging him. “You still haven’t answered my question, though. Why might I be a bigger asset to you than vice versa?” Slippery as a fish, but he couldn’t seem to keep the shit-eatingly sly look off his face. She watched his expressions change intently. 

“Clear as day,” she said, resting her chin on her hand. “Not a bad strategy, I have to say.” She cracked a smile. “When?”

“Sadie,” he repeats with a great satisfaction in the way it rolled off his tongue. “Ah yes I understand, classroom memories and the like,” he says with a casual wave of his hand. Rafa knows the dreaded formal name call better than anyone. He watches intently as her eyes drift around his office.

He scowls ever so slightly, no his services weren’t advertised in the paper but he always assumed he dominated the competition long ago. “Well I hope I can be the one to change that, trust is a very delicate thing,” he says and smiles his most genuine smile. She didn’t seem like she’d be that hard to convince, he might only have to take her out to dinner once. He laughs, nodding in agreement. “Smart kid, if we didn’t look out for one another no one would,” he says and relaxes into his seat. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll take you on with no commission. I think you might be a better asset for me than I could be for you,”

He wasn’t a fan of his competition, evidently. “Kid, huh?” She joked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Do I look that young or are you just calling yourself old?” Lola (though maybe not Sadie — she hadn’t bothered to give the fake identity much characterization) got called kid more than she, at twenty-eight, cared for. Probably a wunderkind thing. 

Cabrera, she had to admit, knew how to sell. Best not to seem too eager. “And what does that mean, exactly? I assume you’re not giving up that commission out of solidarity.” She leaned forward, clasping her hands. “I mean, I like a good deal as much as the next guy, but I like transparency more.”

Rafa just couldn’t understand how in a few short years programmers had come from being basement dwelling nobodies to billionaires practically overnight. He too could compare hot girls faces but unlike Zuckerberg, Rafael was never able to capitalize off it.

Though the name Sadie Branson on his calendar didn’t conjure the mental image of a socially inept neckbeard but then again, he’s seen MTV— he knows catfishes exists. Regardless of what this Branson looked like, there was money to be made and he couldn’t let the opportunity slide.

Though when he looks up from his desk he’s pleasantly surprised by one of life’s little victories. He rises to greet her, “Well it’s a pleasure meeting you Ms.Branson, please have a seat.” He motions to the plush seats across from him as he sits back down behind his desk. “Now I’ve heard you struck gold in that little digital mine of yours,” his fingers flutter to illustrate how foreign the whole concept is to me. “Now tell me, was there any reason why you were interested our services in particular?”

Lola could practically smell the money in the air. “Sadie, please,” She said, wryly. “Ms. Branson just makes me feel like I’m in trouble for something.” She looked around curiously as she settled into her seat, memorizing as many details as she could on the off-chance they’d come in handy later.

“I’ll be honest, you’re not the first wealth manager I’ve met with,” Lola began. “But I haven’t yet seen one I’d really trust to tell me what to do with my money.” The thought of a wealth manager less scrupulous than Cabrera amused her. “But maybe the third time’s the charm, if you live up to your reputation. Plus,” she gave him a half smile. “I don’t like being the only brown face in a bank.”

When a man at a nearby table spoke, Lola prepared to repeat her usual perfunctory rejection —until she turned in his direction. She recognized him instantly but the cold shock didn’t wash over her until they made eye contact, and she managed to keep her neutral expression in place. Time slowed to a crawl as her mind shuffled through every minute of training, every tidbit about the Englishman, absolutely anything useful. A small voice in the back of her mind piped up: I could just leave. But she wouldn’t. Instead, she addressed him. “Sorry? I didn’t catch that.” 

@alekseimakarovich​

Enter Sadie Branson: freelance computer programmer and newly minted cryptocurrency millionaire, in need of an expert’s guidance. No disguise, very little acting. Truthfully, she had expected having a false identity to be a tad more exciting.

“Mr. Cabrera,” she said as she was ushered into his office. “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”

@rafacabrera​