Mexico City, late afternoon. The sun sank low over Paseo de la Reforma, painting the glass towers in bruised gold. The café was half-full, the kind of place where time seemed to stretch and fold, espresso machines hissed, silver spoons chimed against porcelain, and conversations hung like drifting smoke. At a corner table sat Lorenzo di Sousa, immaculate dark suit, raincoat draped over the chair, a glass of whiskey resting beside the untouched saucer. Outside, two men stood beside a black luxury sedan, eyes scanning the street with silent discipline. He was the kind of man whose stillness drew attention. Across the room, Catarina Vasquez watched him over the rim of her coffee cup. The light caught in her hair, the soft curls shifting as she tilted her head. There was curiosity in her eyes, and mischief too, the way only youth could carry it. She hesitated once, twice. Then smiled. Catarina rose, smoothing her flowered sundress, and crossed the floor with quiet confidence. The faint click of her heels met the hum of conversation. She stopped at his table, one hand resting lightly on the back of the empty chair opposite him. Her accent slid into her words like a melody.
"You're late" she tilts her head, letting a loose curl brush her shoulder, eyes teasing
"Or am I just early?"
Lorenzo looks at her from top to bottom, leans back and says
"Usually I drink alone signorina, but I would like the company"
She slides into the chair, crossing one leg over the other, fingers brushing the edge of the table as if marking territory
"I'll take that as a compliment then, yes?" Her hazel eyes glint, half amusement, half challenge
"And what brings a man like you to a place like this, alone with a glass of whiskey and eyes that see too much?"
He giggles at the glass while stirring it, making the ice inside crack against the edge of the glass.
"That is a question that I'm not used to be asked, specially by a young woman like yourself, I'm Lorenzo, piacere, and as a matter of fact, I do have one question for you."
Relaxed, dominant, playful he asks "Why for all the people in here, you came to talk with the most boring looking one?"
She leans back slightly, letting a playful smile curl on her lips, eyes locked on his, unflinching
"Boring?" she laughs softly a sound like wind through chimes
"I've never been good at following the obvious choice."
She tilts her head, studying him as if weighing a puzzle
"Besides, the most interesting ones usually hide under the calmest surface. Wouldn't you agree, Lorenzo?"
He leans forward, getting interested in this conversation
"You know, I arrived today in this country not knowing what to expect, I have a meeting in some hours, I thought about killing some time in... this establishment, but you're giving me a pleasant time, miss...?"
"Vasquez, Catarina Vasquez." She lets the name linger between them, a small, confident smile playing at her lips.
"Pleasant, huh?"
She tilts her head, letting her fingers trace the rim of her coffee cup absentmindedly
"I'm glad I could turn an ordinary wait into something worth your attention, Lorenzo."
Her eyes sparkle, teasing, curious
"And what kind of meeting could pull a man like you away from... delightful distractions?"
He looks into her eyes, trying to decipher her intentions, is she interested in his purpose, or just a woman making an interesting conversation in a café?
"Miss Vasquez" Looks at her hands playing with the coffee cup
"Let's say that the motive or content of the meeting is not to be concerned in this conversation, let's just enjoy the interaction that we are having."
Looks straight into her eyes.
She tilts her head, letting a slow smile spread across her lips, unbothered, almost amused by his intensity
"Ah, so the mysterious Lorenzo prefers to keep his secrets."
Her fingers rest lightly on the table now, eyes tracing the lines of his face like a map.
"I can live with that."
Leans in just slightly, voice soft but playful.
"Some conversations are far too enjoyable to spoil with business. Don't you think?"
Lorenzo is amused, something he hasn't felt in a long time
"One thing is certain, Miss Vasquez, your company is, in fact, rather enjoyable."
While he takes a sip of his whiskey, he glances at her, the curves, the smile, the lips, the eyes, the curly hair. He doesn't understand how a stunning woman like her sits beside him, what value could he possibly bring to her? He's used to thugs, rough friendship, betrayal, but at this moment, he feels just like an ordinary person. She doesn't know who he is or what he's done, and he knows that she will discover eventually. He should enjoy this while it lasts.
She notices the brief flicker of something deeper in his gaze, a quiet weight behind the amusement, but doesn't push. Instead, she lets a slow, knowing smile spread across her lips, fingers lightly drumming the table in a casual rhythm
"You look like a man who rarely allows himself a simple pleasure, Lorenzo."
Her voice is soft, teasing, yet carries a hint of understanding.
"But I promise, no one is judging you here. Just two people, coffee, and a little time stolen from the world."
Her eyes sparkle, curiosity and mischief mingling.
"Or... am I wrong?"
He is in for whatever this may lead, so, out of anything he could possibly say, he chooses
"Dance, I always wanted to learn how to dance."
Her eyebrows lift, surprise flashing before a warm, amused laugh escapes her lips
"Dance?"
She leans back slightly, eyes twinkling.
"Well, I suppose I could teach you."
She tilts her head, letting a strand of hair fall over her shoulder.
"But I warn you, Lorenzo, I don't go easy on beginners."
Her smile turns sly, challenging.
"Shall we step outside, or do you want to start right here between the tables? "
Lorenzo stands up, takes off his jacket and sets it on top of his long coat that hangs on the chair
"Miss Vasquez, I accept the challenge, take me whatever you want for this lesson."
Rolls up his sleeves.
"In the next three hours, I am completely at your disposal."
Smirks, clearly delivering a second intention
She rises gracefully, letting her dress sway, eyes glinting with mischief at his boldness
"Three hours, huh?"
She lets her gaze roam over him for a moment, assessing, amused.
"I think that's plenty of time."
Her voice is playful, yet carries an unspoken promise of testing him.
"Then follow me, Lorenzo."
She steps toward the door, glancing back over her shoulder, letting the thrill of anticipation linger in the air.
"Try not to step on my feet."
She winks, teasing
For the rest of the night, they entertained themselves. Lorenzo let himself go in the flow of Catarina; they danced, drank, danced some more, and then, both released the heat and passion that had been building inside of them. In the morning, she was alone in bed. No note, no message, nothing, not a single hint that he had been there. To break the silence of the room, she turned the TV on.
She sits up, the morning light spilling over the sheets, hair tousled, dress from the night folded neatly on the chair. Her fingers trace the empty space beside her, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the quiet.
The TV hums, filling the room with chatter she barely hears. She leans back, letting the warmth of the sheets and the memory of him linger, eyes distant, lost in the echo of his presence.
"Well, Lorenzo..."
She murmurs to herself, voice soft, almost a whisper, carrying both amusement and challenge.
"You've certainly left your mark."
Then she hears on the news, meeting gone bad, intense shootout at a warehouse in the vicinity of the café. Multiple bodies found between cartel members and suspected mafia soldiers.
Her hand freezes on the remote, the cheerful chatter of the news now sharp, jarring. Her eyes widen, heart tightening as the screen shows flashing images of the warehouse, police tape, and the scattered bodies.
She presses the remote to mute, breathing uneven, mind racing. The memory of him, the night they shared, clashes violently with the violent images, each detail from last night suddenly heavy with risk and danger.
Leaning forward, elbows on her knees, she whispers, more to herself than anyone else
"Lorenzo... what have you gotten yourself into?"
Her fingers drum against her thighs, restless, a mixture of fear, fascination, and the undeniable pull of curiosity she cannot shake.