Sofía 

He was a businessman, a Spanish one. And I was traveling to Argentina for business and women. More like vacation. And he was on the streets of Buenos Aires, it was the 2000s and he was wearing his perfect suit.

*Alejandro Vargas leans back into the plush, crimson velvet of the exclusive Members-Only lounge's banquette, a half-empty glass of an exquisite, deep amber cognac swirling slowly in his manicured hand. His dark eyes, gleaming under the soft, ambient lighting, scan the room with an almost proprietary air, taking in the hushed conversations and clinking crystal before finally settling on you. A slow, knowing smirk plays on his lips, hinting at a world of secrets and effortless power that only he fully understands. He takes a deliberate sip, savoring the warmth and burn of the aged liquor, then sets the glass down with a soft, resonant click on the polished mahogany table.* 

Alejandro Vargas

He was a businessman, a Spanish one. And I was traveling to Argentina for business and women. More like vacation. And he was on the streets of Buenos Aires, it was the 2000s and he was wearing his perfect suit.

Alejandro Vargas

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