Catalina sat on the edge of the plush velvet sofa, the ticking of the grand clock above the fireplace echoing in her ears like a countdown she didn't understand. The Moretti penthouse was eerily quiet, but she wasn't alone. Alexander stood a few feet away, his back to her, hands tucked into the pockets of his black slacks as he gazed out over the skyline.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
She cleared her throat. "Are we just going to pretend last night didn't happen?"
He didn't move. "That would be wise."
Catalina blinked. "So… we kiss, and then you shut down like a robot again?"
Alexander turned slowly, his eyes unreadable. "There are rules."
Her heart thumped. "And which one did I break? Or was it you?"
His jaw tensed, but he didn't answer.
Catalina stood. "Right. The great Alexander Moretti doesn't do emotions. I forgot."
"You're not here to fall in love with me," he said, voice cold.
She lifted her chin. "Don't worry. I won't."
They stood there, two storms ready to crash, but neither moved. Until Alexander finally walked past her, grabbing his suit jacket off the back of a chair.
"I'll be late," he muttered. "You'll be safe here. The security team knows you're under my protection now. No one gets in without my clearance."
Catalina crossed her arms. "What if I want to go out?"
His pause was brief, almost imperceptible. "Then you'll take a guard."
"And if I don't?"
He turned back to face her. "Then you'll find out what it means to defy me."
Her breath hitched at the intensity in his gaze. He wasn't threatening her—he was warning her. Protecting her the only way he knew how.
But she wasn't a woman who followed orders easily.
As soon as he left, the air felt less charged—but not less suffocating. Catalina walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at the city she'd once ruled in socialite silence, now a stranger to her in this new life.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: You can run, but you won't hide forever, Catalina.
Her blood ran cold.
She dropped the phone as if it burned.
The safety Alexander promised felt paper-thin now.
She picked up the device with trembling fingers and blocked the number. Then she walked straight to the front door, determined to get fresh air and space. But the moment she opened it, a suited man stood tall on the other side.
"Miss Delgado, Mr. Moretti said you weren't to leave without escort."
She blinked. "He really wasn't kidding."
"No, ma'am."
Catalina exhaled. "Fine. I'm going out. With you."
The guard nodded once. "I'll alert the driver."
She didn't know where she was going—only that she needed to breathe, to remember who she was before all of this.
Before fake marriages and mysterious threats.
The coffee shop was a cozy place tucked into a quiet corner of the city. Catalina sat at a table by the window, her hood pulled up, oversized sunglasses hiding her face. Her guard stood near the door, watching everyone.
She stirred her latte slowly, replaying the kiss with Alexander over and over in her mind. How had one moment made her feel so alive… and so terrified?
Was it attraction? Or was it desperation—clinging to the only person who hadn't betrayed her yet?
A group of girls giggled nearby, scrolling on their phones.
"Did you see that photo of Alexander Moretti last night?" one of them whispered.
Catalina froze.
"He's such a mystery," another chimed in. "No one knows who he's dating. Or if he even dates at all."
"Well," the first girl said, "if I were him, I wouldn't waste time with just one woman."
They all laughed.
Catalina clenched her jaw.
She wasn't jealous. Was she?
When had she become the kind of woman who cared who Alexander Moretti kissed?
By the time she returned to the penthouse, Alexander was already home, pacing the length of the living room, tension in every step. When he saw her, his eyes flashed.
"Where were you?"
Catalina shrugged off her coat. "Out. With your guard. Relax."
"You didn't tell me."
"I didn't know I needed permission."
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You do."
She stepped closer. "I'm not your prisoner."
"No," he said. "You're my responsibility."
That shut her up.
Because in a strange, twisted way… it sounded like he cared.
She looked up at him. "What aren't you telling me?"
His gaze darkened. "There are people looking for you. The kind of people who don't play fair."
She sucked in a breath. "So I'm… in danger?"
"Yes."
"And you're protecting me because…?"
He didn't answer.
"You said no emotions," she whispered.
His jaw flexed.
Catalina reached up and touched his cheek, so gently. "Then why does it feel like you're lying to both of us?"
Alexander closed his eyes for a heartbeat—just long enough for her to see the storm behind them.
And then he walked away.
Again.
That night, Catalina couldn't sleep. She wandered the halls of the penthouse, eventually finding her way to the library—a room she hadn't noticed before.
It was warm, dimly lit, and smelled like old paper and leather. She ran her fingers along the spines of the books, feeling oddly comforted.
Until she saw the photo on the desk.
A younger Alexander, smiling, arms around a beautiful woman.
His mother?
Or someone else?
Before she could think more, a soft voice startled her.
"You shouldn't be in here."
Alexander.
She turned. "You have a whole secret library?"
"It's not secret."
"Then why keep this room locked?"
He didn't answer.
She held up the photo. "She meant something to you."
His eyes turned to stone. "Put it down."
Catalina didn't.
"She's why you made the rules, isn't she?"
He took the photo from her and placed it back on the desk. "Some stories don't deserve to be told."
"Or maybe you're just scared of remembering."
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "And what are you scared of, Catalina?"
She looked up at him. "That I won't be able to leave when this ends."
He didn't kiss her.
Didn't touch her.
But the silence between them was louder than anything she'd ever heard.
And for the first time… Catalina feared that what they had wasn't fake anymore.