Chapter 2 The Billionaire's Armor

The steady hum of the office was broken only by the frantic clacking of Mariana’s keyboard. Her fingers flew over the keys, ignoring the piercing ache creeping up her wrists. The glass walls of Montero Global’s executive floor loomed around her, cold and sterile, reflecting the whirlwind that was her first day. Papers were scattered across her desk, each stamped with Diego’s signature, precise, emotionless. Deadlines she hadn’t been given. Tasks that weren’t on the agenda. And Diego? Nowhere in sight. She barely had time to breathe before his voice cut through the glass like a blade. “Miss Cortez,” Diego called from his office, without looking up. “Is it too much to expect my assistant to bring the quarterly reports on time?” Mariana snatched the folder, storming into his office with a practiced calm. She found him by the window, gazing out over the city like he owned every inch of it. Which, in a way, he did. “You didn’t mention a time,” she replied coolly, dropping the file on his desk. He didn't recoil. "I would hire a coffee runner if I wanted one. Someone who can keep up is what I need. Mariana's jaw tightened. "Then quit wasting my time on pointless activities." Finally, he looked at her. His gaze was sharp, calculating, but something flickered there. Amusement. His mouth curved into something dangerously close to a smirk. “You might last longer than I thought.” Their eyes locked for a moment too long, his ice against her fire, before he turned away again. Mariana stormed out, but her pulse thrummed wildly. She’d expected cold. She hadn’t expected this pull between them. She glanced back. Diego still stood at the window, but this time… he was watching her reflection. The heavy oak doors muffled Diego’s voice, but not enough. Mariana, balancing a stack of folders, froze outside his office when she heard it, his low, tense growl. “Catalina, this isn’t your fight anymore.” Her curiosity snapped awake. Catalina Velasco. His estranged sister. The family scandal ran deep, but few details had ever surfaced. “You’re blind, Diego,” Catalina’s voice spat from the speakerphone. “You think burying Father’s mess makes it disappear?” A beat of silence. Then Diego’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I’m not cleaning up for him. I’m cleaning up for me.” Mariana’s breath caught. “Montero Global’s bleeding, Diego. And you’re letting it rot from the inside.” Catalina’s accusation hung heavy in the air. “I’m handling it,” Diego ground out. “Like you handled Dad’s death?” The crash of glass against metal echoed through the office. Mariana flinched. She could almost see him, jaw tight, fists clenched, cracks in the billionaire’s armor. “Stay out of this, Catalina.” The call ended with a sharp click. Mariana didn’t move. She felt the weight of what she’d just heard settle deep inside her chest. Diego Montero wasn’t just ruthless, he was haunted. And that made him dangerous. But it also made him vulnerable. She smiled to herself as she slipped away from the door. Every fortress had a weak point. She had just found his. The quiet hum of Diego’s office was broken only by the soft tapping of Mariana’s fingers on his sleek, matte-black keyboard. Her pulse raced in her ears as she sat at his desk, the scent of his cologne lingering faintly in the air, clean, sharp, with an edge of something darker. The polished glass desk reflected her furrowed brow as she scrolled through countless encrypted folders, each one more tightly locked than the last. She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes. That’s all she had before Diego returned from his board meeting. The cursor hovered over a file labeled “Santillán.” The name sent a jolt through her, Rodrigo Santillán, Montero Global’s most aggressive rival, rumored to be knee-deep in illegal dealings. Her fingers danced across the keys, unlocking the first layer of encryption. A web of financial reports, secret communications, and coded transactions filled the screen. Bingo. She barely had time to skim through the documents before the office door creaked open. Her heart plunged. Footsteps echoed closer. In a split second, she slammed the file closed and minimized the screen. Diego’s shadow loomed across the glass desk before she could even compose her expression. He didn’t speak right away. Just stared, those sharp gray eyes flickering with suspicion as they swept from the glowing screen to her flushed face. “You’re either too confident or too reckless,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “Either way…” He stepped forward, the faintest smile ghosting his lips. “I’ll find out.” Her throat dried, but she met his gaze without flinching. “Maybe I’m both.” His eyes darkened, whether with interest or warning, she couldn’t tell. But he didn’t press. Not yet. The office lights had dimmed to a soft amber glow by the time Mariana found herself alone at her desk, fingers tracing the edges of her phone. A photo glowed on the screen, her father, Arturo Del Castillo, smiling in the sun-drenched garden of their old home. His gray at the temples, laugh lines deep, but his eyes, her eyes, had been full of life. The ache in her chest pulsed sharp and deep. She barely noticed when Diego’s footsteps approached until his shadow stretched across her desk. Her thumb instinctively locked the phone, but not before he caught a glimpse of the image. “You don’t have to hide that,” he said, voice unusually soft. She glanced up, caught off guard by the absence of coldness in his expression. There was something… fractured there. Something human. “We all lose people,” he added, the words slow, like each one cost him something. “Some scars cut deeper than others.” The rawness in his voice scraped against her defenses. “Who did you lose?” she asked before she could stop herself. His jaw tensed, but his eyes softened for the briefest moment. “Too many.” The air between them thickened, heavy with everything neither of them was willing to say. Mariana forced herself to break the silence, slipping her phone into her bag. “Some scars never heal.” Diego’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “And some shouldn’t.” He turned and walked away, leaving Mariana frozen at her desk, her mind spinning. For a moment, she hadn’t seen the cold, ruthless billionaire. She’d seen the man. And that was far more dangerous. The pulse of low bass thudded through the velvet-draped walls of Club Sombra, an elite playground where secrets thrived and danger was currency. The heavy scent of expensive cigars and aged whiskey curled in the air, mingling with whispers that slipped between silk-clad socialites and shadowy men in tailored suits. Mariana stood in the upper gallery, her dark dress blending with the dim light, eyes trained on Diego Montero as he made his entrance. He was a storm of dark elegance, sharp lines and cold confidence, his presence pulling gravity around him as he cut through the crowd. Her mission tonight was simple, follow him, observe his dealings, but nothing ever stayed simple around Diego. He moved toward a secluded booth in the back, where men in thousand-dollar suits exchanged tight-lipped greetings. Mariana edged closer, her gaze sharp, heart hammering as she snapped silent photos with her concealed phone. Then, out of nowhere, a heavy hand gripped her elbow. She froze. "Miss Cortez?" There was distrust in the familiar voice of Javier Delgado. He recognized her, and his hawk-like eyes narrowed. "I didn't think you would be here." Mariana's panic was scarcely concealed. "I….Diego requested that I deliver some files." Javier didn’t buy it. He tilted his head, ready to call her bluff, when a deeper voice sliced through the tension. “She’s with me,” Diego said smoothly. Her breath caught as he appeared behind Javier, glass of scotch in hand, his gray eyes colder than ever. Javier stepped back, stiffening under Diego’s stare before melting into the crowd. Mariana didn’t get a chance to thank him. Diego grabbed her hand and pulled her into the heart of the dance floor. “Stay close,” he muttered. His arm slid around her waist, drawing her flush against him. His scent,amber and cedar, was intoxicating. The music faded beneath the thrum of her pulse as he led her into a slow, tense rhythm. His lips barely brushed her ear. "You're not who you claim to be... yet I am unable to determine why. Her heart plummeted. He was already unraveling her. And they’d barely begun.