Catalina Moreira stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom, noticing the light smudge of mascara under her eyes. She hadn't cried a lot, just enough to realize the last three years ended in a manner she should have expected. Mike's actions weren't surprising; they were just done. It was a sharp, clean break.
She splashed her face with water, put on her jacket, and pushed herself out the door before she retreated into the silence of her apartment. The cold night air stung her cheeks as she walked to the one place that never expected a thing from her: La Estrella Bookshop, the hidden refuge in central Mexico City that was always scented with the smell of warm paper and ink.
A bell above the door jingled as she entered. The soft greeting of the owner was met with a small smile by Catalina, who vanished into the aisles. She went toward the crime section, not because she needed any book, but because being surrounded by other people's stories felt safer than facing her own.
She reached for a copy of The Silent Grave, the one book she hadn't read yet, and her fingers brushed against someone else's.
"Oh, sorry," a deep voice said softly.
Catalina looked up and stopped breathing for a moment. He was tall, easily over six feet, with shaggy dark hair and warm golden-brown eyes regarding hers with quiet interest. Maybe it was her mood, but he felt oddly real and perceptive.
"You can have it," she said quickly, pulling her hand back.
"I think you grabbed it first." His lips curled slightly. "Ladies go first."
"I don't want to be treated differently."
"How about we treat each other the same?" he said. "We can flip a coin."
She blinked. "You have a coin?
He smiled wider, reaching into his pocket. "More than one."
She laughed unexpectedly, the small sound easing a bit of tension in her chest. He flipped the coin as though he had done it many times before.
"Heads," she called out.
The coin shone under the lights, fell on his arm, and with a flourish, he uncovered it.
"Heads."
Catalina shrugged. "I'm lucky."
Instead of handing the book to her, though, he returned it to the shelf. "Take it. I want you to.
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't give up, do you?"
"Only when something catches my attention," he said, staring at her for a second too long.
She turned away, her heart racing. She should leave; sad people made poor choices.
Instead, she asked, "Do you read crime stories?
"Sometimes," he said. "I like… world events. Trading. Business."
She merely nodded, repeating his lie without thinking. "I'm… in the medical field."
Not a lie, just not the full meaning of "medical."
"Well, Doctor," he began teasingly.
"Not that kind of doctor."
He didn't press for more; he simply understood, his eyes warm and strangely kind.
"I'm Luca," he said, extending a hand.
A moment passed, then she took it. His hand felt warm and steady; it unnerved her.
"Catalina."
"Beautiful name."
Her face flushed. She blamed it on her broken heart, sensitive to anything but him.
"So," he said nonchalantly, pointing to the street outside, "can I make up for taking your book without permission?
"You actually gave the book to me."
"Still, I feel guilty about it. Want to get coffee?
"No," she said without thinking. She didn't go on dates with strangers, especially not on this particular night.
But Luca just waited, silent and understanding, not pushing her at all.
Catalina exhaled. Only one night. Free from her cares. Just coffee.
.".Okay," she whispered. "Just one cup."
His smile was easy and suddenly warm. "One cup it is."
Across the street, the coffee shop stood all aglow, cozy in its golden light. Catalina held tight onto her cup as Luca leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed intently on hers.
"So," she said, after some silence, "you work in international trade?
"Basically. There is a lot of traveling, and a lot of… talking and making agreements."
"And is it dangerous?" she asked before she could stop herself.
One swift, controlled glance crossed his eyes. "Sometimes, yes."
She continued to study him. "You don't seem like someone who gets scared easily."
"Neither do you," he said smoothly.
Catalina laughed softly. "I look like someone who was just crying in the shower an hour ago."
"Then whoever made you cry didn't realize how lucky they were."
The kindness in his voice surprised her. She took a sip to steady herself.
"You don't even know me."
"I'd like to get to know you."
She felt her heart skip a beat once.
"What about you?" he asked. "Do you spend every night hiding in bookstores?"
"Only the ones that aren't very good."
"And was tonight a bad night?
"Yes, it was," she said.
"Is it getting better now?
She nodded slowly. "Yes… it is.
His smile was so warm she had to look away, lest she forget how to breathe.
Outside again, the air was lighter, buoyed by something for which she did not yet have a name. She told herself that this was it: coffee, conversation, then they would part ways.
But when his hand touched her wrist, his fingers gentle, not pulling but asking, her heart started racing.
"Catalina," he said softly. "Can I, "
She didn't let him finish.
Standing on her toes, she kissed him.
It wasn't wild or desperate, but deep, kind, and warm enough to instill a sense of relaxation inside her. His hand brushed against her cheek as she held on to his collar, feeling his warmth.
When they finally did break the kiss, she was practically panting. "Just one night," she whispered. "We'll see," he whispered, his thumb stroking over her jaw. She should have walked away then, set a strong boundary, and remembered what h
eartbreak had taught her. Instead, she gave him her phone number. And Luca Deluca, a powerful Mafia leader, someone she should have avoided, entered her life with a kiss that would destroy them both before it even had a chance to save them.