The elevator doors opened onto a world Catalina had only seen in movies. Old money and modern interiors, richly combined. Everything was elegant, clean, silent - as though even the air had been polished.
The penthouse stretched on without end. Clean lines, expensive taste, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, marble floors gleaming under soft recessed lighting, furniture that whispered elegance rather than shouted it.
She walked in slowly, her reflection multiplying across the shining surfaces. "This place looks like it doesn't allow fingerprints."
Alejandro didn't answer. He handed his jacket to a uniformed woman who appeared almost without sound.
"Nina, this is Miss Rivas - the lady I told you about," he said, throwing her a knowing glance.
"Welcome, Miss Rivas." The woman, somewhere in her mid-forties, gave Catalina a brief nod. "I've prepared your room in the east wing," she said, and led the way, walking ahead of Mr. Montoya.
Catalina murmured a thank you, clutching her small bag like a shield, following slowly behind Montoya and Nina, quietly taking in the place.
As they moved through the halls she couldn't keep her eyes from going wide. A library bigger than her entire apartment. A piano lounge. A gym that looked like it belonged in a luxury hotel. She didn't have nearly enough time to absorb all of it.
"Do you live here alone?" she asked, catching up to Alejandro even knowing he might not answer. She asked anyway.
He glanced over his shoulder. "I work too much to entertain company."
"Clearly."
He stopped in front of a glass door that opened onto a terrace overlooking Salamanca. "Miss Rivas, privacy here is non-negotiable," he said evenly. "No guests without my approval, no interaction with the press, no wandering where you don't belong. Stay in your room unless I say otherwise."
Catalina crossed her arms. "Understood. No curiosity, no fun, just sitting here in captivity."
He looked at her, and for a second she thought he might smile. Then his expression locked back into place. "I'm not paying you for fun or freedom. Follow the rules and in a few months you'll be gone."
She fired back before she could stop herself. "You're not paying me to be quiet either, but that seems to be your favorite thing."
Nina cleared her throat behind them, reminding Catalina they weren't alone.
"Miss Rivas," Alejandro said finally, "this arrangement only works if you follow my lead. My family will see only what I want them to see. You'll smile when I say, speak when necessary, and never forget that this is a business."
She wanted to say something sharp, something that would crack that perfect composure of his, but the look in his eyes stopped her. So she nodded and said nothing.
"Good," he said, turning away. "Tomorrow you'll meet with my stylist. She'll handle everything for the gala."
---
The next morning started with a knock at the door.
"Miss Rivas?"
Catalina groaned, burying her face in the pillow. "Please tell me it's still dark outside."
"It's eight thirty," Nina said firmly. "You have an appointment."
Less than an hour later Catalina was standing in front of three stylists who looked like they'd stepped straight out of a fashion editorial. Clothes, fabric swatches, trays of jewelry - everything gleamed.
"Mr. Montoya said elegant, not princess," one of them murmured, circling her. "We need something understated."
Catalina blinked. "Understated? You mean affordable?"
"You'll see." One of the women smiled, a dimple showing at the corner.
Two hours, a hundred outfits, and a hair consultation later, Catalina barely recognized herself. Her hair fell in glossy waves over one shoulder, her makeup subtle but transforming. The dress was midnight blue, fitted in all the right places, with a slit just high enough to make her nervous.
When she came back into the penthouse living room Alejandro was waiting, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked up and his mouth opened.
"Too much?" she asked, self-conscious, tugging at her dress.
His voice came out low. "No. It's fine."
"Fine?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's all?"
He cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "You'll do."
She smiled thinly. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."
He gave her a look that could have been exasperation or restraint. She couldn't tell which.
---
The gala was held in the Torre Montoya ballroom. All chandeliers, champagne, and money. Cameras flashed as they arrived, Alejandro's hand steady at the small of her back, the warmth of it sending confusing sparks through her nerves.
"Smile," he murmured. "They're watching."
She lifted her chin, forced composure, played the part. He steered her through introductions - business partners, investors, politicians. She nodded and smiled and let him lead. But every so often she caught him watching her, like he was gauging how convincingly she was playing his game.
Then she noticed the man across the room. Arrogant smile, not bothering to hide that he was staring.
"Who is that?" she whispered, her palm going damp. His gaze made her uneasy.
"Matteo Del Castillo," Alejandro said slowly, voice low. "That bastard."
Before he could say more or she could ask, Matteo was already crossing toward them, smiling the kind of smile that hides a blade.
"Alejandro Montoya," he said, drawing out the name. "I hadn't realized congratulations were in order. Fiancée, hm?" His gaze slid to Catalina, lazy and sharp. "You've upgraded."
Alejandro's hand tightened slightly at her waist. "Matteo." His voice was flat. "Always a pleasure."
Matteo's smile deepened. "You wouldn't mind if I asked her to dance?"
"She's not available," Alejandro said, polite but final. "Don't make me say it twice."
"Oh, I see," Matteo said lightly, eyes gleaming. "Then maybe you wouldn't mind proving it."
Alejandro didn't take the bait right away. He held Matteo's gaze for a long moment, the kind of silence that made the air feel thick, before Matteo finally smiled to himself and drifted away, dissolving into the crowd as easily as he'd appeared.
Alejandro turned to her then, expression still unreadable but something quieter underneath it.
"They're watching," he murmured, low enough for only the two of them.
His hand moved up her back, firm and sure. He drew her close - close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him, close enough that the noise of the room seemed to pull back and leave just the two of them standing in the middle of it all.
"Alejandro," she whispered, her heart hitting hard against her ribs.
His gaze dropped to her lips. "Smile," he said softly. "And don't flinch.
"
Then slowly, he leaned in, his mouth a breath away from hers, the whole world holding still around them.