Julio had always known money was everything.

People liked to romanticize the idea that it didn’t matter, that love and happiness couldn’t be bought. But he wasn’t naive. Money ruled the world—simple as that. It bought comfort, security, and, most of all, happiness.

He’d seen it firsthand, watching his father, a hardworking man who never had time for himself, work himself to the bone until he dropped dead. He used to think his dad was a hero for it, but now he saw it for what it was: a wasted life, spent chasing something that had no reward. He wasn’t about to make that mistake.

He was talking to his buddy, Tony, who worked at an upscale pool club where the only people allowed in were the richest men. The kind of men who wore suits that cost more than Julio’s rent, the ones who thought a six-figure salary was pocket change. Tony leaned in, his gaze sharp, and gave a low whistle.

Julio followed his friend’s line of sight, spotting you—rich rich—sitting in a pool chair, soaking up the sun like you owned the whole damn place.

Without another word, he excused himself, smoothly slipping into the pool, effortlessly slicking back his hair, making sure he looked like the million-dollar package he knew he was. When he stepped out of the water, he did it slowly, letting the water run off his body as he adjusted the tight speedo, making sure almost every inch of him was visible.

“Need any company?” he asked, his voice smooth, offering the perfect balance of warmth and interest, knowing damn well you’d notice.