The service hallway was cooler, darker, lined with champagne trays and bored waitstaff waiting for their cue to disappear into the glittering chaos.
Lina walked with purpose, her heels muted against the stone tile. She wasn't retreating. She was regrouping.
She told herself that again when she heard the soft echo of approaching footsteps behind her. Not fast. Not urgent. Just deliberate.
She didn't have to look to know.
Luca Romano didn't sneak. He arrived.
She stopped by a side table and straightened a crooked row of wine glasses just to do something with her hands. A beat later, his reflection appeared in the mirror behind the bar.
Still watching her.
"Following me?" she asked without turning.
"Making conversation," he said casually. "I find it easier when someone isn't pretending to be busy."
Lina finally turned to face him, arms folded. "You're not as charming as you think."
"I've never needed to be." His eyes flicked to the door she'd just come through. "He makes you do this too? Play hostess while he snorts blow and flirts with married women?"
She didn't answer. He took that as permission to keep going.
"I've seen Navarro's type. Inherited power. No vision. Keeps people like you around to feel taller."
"People like me?" she echoed.
"Smart. Competent. Dangerous when underestimated." He tilted his head. "You're not just a secretary."
"And you're not just an asshole," she shot back. "But here we are."
Luca chuckled. "There it is."
"There what?"
"That fire. I wondered how long you'd pretend."
"I'm not pretending anything. I am a secretary, and I work for Navarro because he pays me."
"Pays you with what?" he asked. "Fear? Guilt? Debt?"
Lina stepped closer, voice dropping. "Careful, Romano. You don't know a damn thing about me."
"I know you don't belong in his world."
She laughed once — not kindly. "And I belong in yours?"
"No," he said. "But mine will find you anyway. Might as well choose where you stand when it does."
His words hung in the air like smoke, curling into something she didn't want to name.
She broke the silence. "Is this where you threaten me? Offer me a deal? Pull out a contract like some clichéd gangster fantasy?"
He smiled — a real one this time, sharp and toothy. "No. This is where I leave, so you have to wonder what comes next."
He stepped back, slow, never taking his eyes off her. "Good evening, Miss Reyes."
Then he disappeared down the hallway, leaving her standing in the chill, her own reflection staring back at her — unreadable.
Lina stepped back into the ballroom like nothing had happened.
No one noticed she was gone. No one ever did — not unless they needed something signed, fixed, covered, or cleaned up. Navarro Jr. had once joked that she was "his personal damage control." He'd meant it as a compliment. It had landed like a bruise.
She made her way toward their table at the center of the room. Navarro was laughing too loudly with a councilman's son, his tie loosened, his drink half-spilled. His other assistant, a twitchy yes-man named Felix, was scribbling something on his phone, nodding at everything Navarro said.
Lina paused a few steps away, waiting.
Navarro didn't look up. He waved a lazy hand behind him. "Reyes. Get me another round. This one's watered down."
She stared at him. Then at the half-full glass in his hand.
"Of course," she said coolly, and turned before he could see the flicker of contempt in her eyes.
She didn't go to the bar. Instead, she slid into a shadowed booth near the back corner of the ballroom. Her feet ached. Her spine hurt from standing tall for three hours straight. Her head throbbed with the weight of every fake smile she'd given tonight.
She sat in silence for a minute.
And then a waiter appeared.
"From the gentleman at the bar," he said quietly, placing a crystal tumbler in front of her — neat bourbon, not her drink of choice.
Tucked beneath the glass was a small white note.
She unfolded it slowly, even as her stomach tightened.
You deserve better.
– L.
Her fingers curled around the paper, crushing it into her palm. She didn't need to look to know he was watching. She could feel it, like pressure just under her skin.
She rose from the booth, left the drink untouched, and crossed the floor like she hadn't just been made the centerpiece of a silent game.
She passed Luca without glancing at him, but she caught the flick of his eyes as she walked by.
When she reached the nearest champagne table, she unfolded the note again, then calmly tore it into four sharp pieces and dropped them into a bucket of melted ice.
Then she smoothed her dress, adjusted her hair, and walked back toward Navarro Jr., who hadn't noticed she was gone — again.
But someone else had.
The ballroom emptied slowly, like a tide retreating from a glittering shore. Laughs faded into echoes. Glasses clinked more sparsely. Coats were gathered. Farewells exchanged with lies about future meetings.
Lina stood near the valet entrance, checking her phone, pretending she had somewhere better to be. Navarro Jr. had left twenty minutes ago with a woman whose name he hadn't bothered to learn. He hadn't said goodbye to Lina. He never did.
She was used to being the last one out. The one who confirmed the bill was paid. The one who ensured no names were written down where they shouldn't be.
The lobby lights buzzed slightly above her, casting long reflections against the glass walls. She slipped her wrap over her shoulders and crossed toward the elevator that led to the private garage.
Her heels echoed as the metal doors closed behind her.
By the time she reached the underground level, the silence had thickened.
Cool concrete. Oil-stained floor. The soft hum of fluorescent lighting overhead.
Her car — a modest black sedan — waited in the far corner where she always parked, where no one important ever noticed her leave.
But tonight… someone was noticing.
She felt it first, before she saw anything. That instinctive tension along her spine. That ancient, unspoken alarm bell inside the body that whispered: Watched.
She slowed her pace without making it obvious.
Halfway down the garage lane, she saw it — a sleek black car, engine idling, lights off.
Too expensive for this level. Too quiet. Too still.
Lina walked normally, keys in hand, breath shallow. She didn't stop. Didn't stare. Didn't run.
She passed the car, and in the tinted passenger window, she caught the faintest shadow of movement — a man reclining back, his outline barely visible under the sodium lights.
She kept walking, reached her own car, unlocked it with a chirp that felt unnaturally loud.
Inside the black car, Luca watched her.
Not leering. Not even smiling.
Just… watching.
Beside him, his right hand — an older man with weathered hands and a scar behind his left ear — tapped once on a tablet screen. A profile came up. Her name. Her background. The gaps.
Luca read it silently, his expression unreadable.
"Catalina Reyes," he murmured under his breath, like tasting it.
He leaned forward slightly, just enough to see her taillights blink as she pulled away into the city.
Then he sat back, voice soft.
"Interesting."