Chapter 3 Dangerous Proximity

The soft hum of the city lights stretched into the night, flickering through the vast glass walls of Diego Montero’s office. The skyline glowed like molten gold, but the man inside was a shadow against it, alone, shoulders heavy, drink in hand. Mariana hesitated at the doorway. The office was empty, except for Diego, seated on the edge of his desk, a half-drunk glass of whiskey cradled between his fingers. No board members, no guards. Just him, stripped of his usual armor. Her instincts screamed to leave. Instead, she cleared her throat softly. “You’re here late,” she said. His head tilted slightly, as though he’d known she was there the entire time. “This empire doesn’t run itself.” She stepped forward, her heels silent on the polished marble. “You ever take a break?” Diego's grin was piercing, yet it stayed out of his eyes. It's difficult to fall asleep after building something this large. There are always shadows. For a second, the cold billionaire cracked, revealing the man underneath, haunted, driven by ghosts she couldn’t yet name. “Even kings need sleep,” she whispered. He didn’t answer. Just swirled the amber liquid in his glass, the ice clinking like distant thunder. She should’ve left. Instead, she sat in the chair opposite him, the air thick with something electric and dangerous. “You work too hard,” she said. “And you ask too many questions.” But there was no bite in his voice. Only exhaustion. They sat there, an invisible thread pulling tight between them, stretched thin by secrets neither was ready to spill. When Mariana finally stood to leave, his gaze followed her all the way to the door. For the first time, he didn’t look at her like an enemy. He looked at her like a question he didn’t know how to answer. The soft blue glow of Diego’s computer screen bathed Mariana’s face in cold light. Her fingers raced across the keyboard, nerves buzzing as she bypassed the final firewall. The office was eerily silent, too silent, but time was against her. Lines of code flickered, then dissolved into a hidden folder: “Santillán, Offshore Accounts.” Her breath hitched. Rodrigo Santillán, Diego’s supposed rival. The man her father had investigated before his death. She opened the files, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Transaction histories, coded bank transfers, but something didn’t add up. The offshore accounts weren’t Diego’s. They were siphoning funds out of Montero Global. Diego wasn’t the puppet master. He was the puppet. Mariana’s heart raced as the truth clawed at her. Was he a victim of his own empire? Her cursor hovered over an encrypted document when a low beep echoed from the security panel. Someone was coming. She slammed the laptop shut and ducked behind the leather armchair just as Diego entered. He poured himself another drink, oblivious. Mariana’s mind spiraled with new questions. If Diego wasn’t the villain she thought… then who was? She slipped out the side door, the weight of the discovery burning in her chest. The game had just changed. And she wasn’t sure which side she was on anymore. The boardroom crackled with tension. Sunlight poured through the towering windows, illuminating the tension-stretched faces around the sleek, obsidian table. Diego sat at the head, fingers steepled under his chin, his sharp gray eyes raking over the charts projected on the screen. Mariana sat two seats down, her pen tapping a steady rhythm against her notepad. His strategy was flawed. She knew it. And the words burned on her tongue. “Montero’s plan is too aggressive,” Mariana finally said, voice slicing through the heavy silence. Every head snapped toward her. Diego didn’t blink. “Excuse me?” She didn’t flinch. “You’re pushing too hard into markets that aren’t stable. It’s reckless.” A beat of absolute stillness. “Everyone out,” Diego growled. Chairs scraped as the team scrambled out, leaving Mariana alone in the room with him. The door clicked shut. "You believe that you can read me?" Diego strode in her direction, his voice gruff and low. She stood her ground. “I don’t need to. You wear your darkness like armor.” He stopped inches away, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him. His jaw tensed, something raw flickering in his eyes. “Be careful, Mariana,” he whispered, voice like sandpaper. “Some people don’t survive trying to crack it.” Her breath hitched, the air between them sparking with something dangerous. She said, "Perhaps I'm not like other people." For a moment, the tension was unbearable, every nerve in her body screaming as his gaze dipped to her parted lips. Then, just as fast, he stepped back, the wall snapping back into place. “Don’t challenge me again,” he said coldly. But his eyes told a different story. He liked the fire. And she knew it. The dim glow of Mariana’s apartment barely softened the sharp lines of her face as she sat on the edge of her threadbare couch, the city lights glittering through the cracked blinds. Her laptop lay open, Diego’s encrypted files still flashing in her mind. She was in too deep. “You’re playing with fire, Mari,” Camila’s voice crackled through the speakerphone. Mariana rubbed her temples. “I’m close, Cam. I can feel it.” Camila let out a long sigh. "This job was meant to be completed quickly, get in, get out." You're sliding, however. "I'm not…." "You are. He irritates you. In your speech, I can hear it. Mariana nibbled on her inner cheek. She detested Camila's accuracy. "Mariana," Camila's tone became softer. "It will be more difficult to pull out the deeper you go." Silence stretched between them. “Too late,” Mariana whispered. Her eyes drifted to the photo of her father on the wall, the red threads still spider-webbing across it. But now, tangled somewhere in the middle, was Diego’s face. The plan was unraveling. And she didn’t know if she wanted to stop it. The soft click of Mariana’s heels echoed off the empty sidewalks as she wound through the dimly lit streets, the chill of the night creeping up her spine. She tugged her coat tighter, but it wasn’t the cold that made her tense, it was the subtle weight of footsteps shadowing her. She quickened her pace. So did he. Turning a corner, she darted into a side alley, flattening herself against the cold brick wall. Her heart hammered as a dark figure strode past, pausing briefly before moving on. She exhaled, forcing calm into her racing pulse. “Thought you could shake him that easily?” a deep voice drawled. She spun, coming face-to-face with Mateo Villarreal, Diego’s head of security. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his tactical black jacket blending into the shadows. “Diego sent you?” she asked, breathless. Mateo nodded. “He doesn’t like loose ends. Or people getting too close to them.” Before she could question him further, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. The window slid down, revealing Diego himself in the driver’s seat, his expression stone-cold. “Get in,” he ordered. Mariana hesitated before slipping into the passenger seat. The door shut with a heavy thud, and the tense silence inside the car felt louder than the outside world. Neither spoke as Diego navigated through the city streets, the leather steering wheel creaking under his tightened grip. His jaw clenched, the vein at his temple throbbing with restrained anger, or was it something else? He didn’t look at her when he finally spoke. “You’re hiding something, Mariana. And I’m going to find out what.” Her fingers curled into fists, but she forced a calm breath. “Then you’d better look hard,” she replied, voice laced with challenge. The car stopped outside her apartment. She stepped out, but she could feel his eyes on her, searching, dissecting, as she walked away. Diego didn’t drive off. He sat there, watching. Waiting.