Chapter 4 Into The Lion's Den

The Montero Global Charity Gala wasn’t just an event, it was a battlefield dressed in black-tie elegance. Mariana stood at the grand entrance of the ballroom, a sea of glittering chandeliers reflecting off glass walls, the city skyline twinkling like a watchful audience. Her black silk gown hugged her curves, the plunging neckline a calculated move, enough to disarm, not enough to distract. She spotted Diego instantly. Tall, poised, radiating power in a sleek tuxedo, he stood at the heart of the room, surrounded by wolves in tailored suits. Every eye followed him, but his gaze, piercing, deliberate locked onto hers the moment she entered. She felt the pull. Mariana forced herself to focus. This was the world she needed to crack, and Diego had just thrown her straight into the lion’s den. “Mariana.” His voice slid over her as he approached, offering his arm. “You clean up well.” “You invited me,” she replied, slipping her hand onto his forearm. “Wanted to see how you handle the sharks.” They moved through the crowd, conversations lowering as they passed. Mariana caught whispers, about her, about him, about why she was here. “Everyone’s watching,” she murmured. “Good,” Diego said, leading her onto the dance floor as a slow melody drifted through the room. “Let them.” The crowd parted like water as they began to dance. His hand was warm against her back, his touch firm, commanding. She should’ve felt trapped. Instead, she felt the dangerous thrill of being seen. “Enjoying the attention?” he asked, his breath grazing her temple. “I can handle it.” He smiled, sharp, dangerous. “I know.” But she caught the flicker of suspicion in his eyes. This was more than a dance. It was a test. The slow rhythm of the waltz masked the undercurrent of tension sparking between them. Diego’s hand tightened at Mariana’s waist as they glided across the polished marble floor, the silk of her dress brushing against his tailored tuxedo. Around them, whispers bloomed like wildfire. But Diego wasn’t focused on them. His storm-gray eyes were locked on her. “You’re not like the others,” he murmured, his voice low, almost intimate despite the crowd. “That makes you dangerous.” Mariana met his gaze, refusing to flinch. “Maybe I am.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but there was a sharpness in his stare, like he was dissecting her, peeling back layers. She felt it, the tug-of-war between suspicion and something else, something darker. “I like dangerous,” he said, voice roughened with something she couldn’t name. The space between them shrank, breaths mingling as the dance slowed. Her heart raced, but she forced her pulse to steady. “Then you’ll love me.” It was a reckless thing to say. She saw it in the flicker of surprise in his eyes. But then he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Or I’ll destroy you.” Her throat tightened. The dance ended, the crowd erupting into polite applause, but Mariana barely heard it. Because Diego hadn’t let go. And she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. As he led her off the floor, she caught her reflection in the grand mirrors lining the ballroom. Two predators, locked in a dance where only one could win. But for the first time, Mariana wasn’t sure who had the upper hand. The air outside the Montero Global Charity Gala was sharp and cold, a perfect match for the storm brewing between Diego and Mariana. The valet lights flickered behind them, but neither paid attention. Their argument echoed in the shadowed corridor, far from the eyes of the press and the polished smiles of the guests. “You used me in there,” Mariana snapped, her heels clicking against the marble as she spun to face him. Diego’s jaw tensed, the veins in his neck rigid. “I wanted to see how you handled pressure.” “Pressure?” She laughed, bitter and raw. “You paraded me around like I was another one of your acquisitions.” The area between his eyes crackled as they darkened. "You don't see what you're doing, do you? Mariana, you're playing a game. You're out of your depth, however. As she stepped closer, waves of heat rolled off her. "Perhaps I'm right where I should be." The tension snapped. In a movement too fast to think about, Diego’s hand cupped the back of her neck, pulling her into a brutal kiss, sharp, hungry, and unrelenting. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was war. For a breathless second, Mariana surrendered, her fingers curling into his lapel, her body leaning into the fire. Then she shoved him back, gasping for air. His chest heaved, eyes wide, as though shocked by his own loss of control. “Don’t ever do that again,” she whispered, though her flushed cheeks betrayed her words. But Diego only smirked, something wild glinting in his gaze. “You kissed me back.” She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Instead, she turned on her heel and left him standing there, angry, breathless, and wanting more. The gala buzzed with the low hum of conversations and the sharp clink of crystal glasses, but Mariana’s mind was still reeling from Diego’s kiss when the energy in the room shifted. It was the kind of shift that pulled eyes toward the entrance and sent whispers slithering through the crowd. She followed the collective gaze. Rodrigo Santillán had arrived. He stood tall, impeccably dressed in a dark tailored suit, a crimson handkerchief folded neatly in his breast pocket, a splash of color against the icy demeanor he wore like armor. His sharp features cut through the room’s glamour like a knife, his smile more weapon than warmth. “Speak of the devil,” Diego muttered under his breath, his hand tightening around his glass. Mariana’s curiosity flared. Rodrigo’s gaze swept the crowd before landing squarely on her. It was a calculated look, cold, assessing, but then something flickered behind his dark eyes. Recognition? Suspicion? He approached. “Diego.” His voice was silk wrapped around steel. “Always a spectacle.” “Rodrigo,” Diego drawled, his jaw tight. “Still crashing parties you weren’t invited to?” Rodrigo chuckled but then turned his full attention to Mariana. “And who’s this?” “Mariana Cortez. My assistant,” Diego replied smoothly, but there was an edge in his tone. Rodrigo extended his hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “Pleasure.” She hesitated a beat too long before shaking it. His grip was firm, but it was the weight behind his words that rattled her. He whispered, "You have good instincts, but watch out. The unwary are eaten alive in this world. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. And just like that, he was gone, leaving Mariana breathless. “Stay away from him,” Diego ordered, but there was something else in his voice, fear. Not for himself. For her. The faint hum of her laptop filled the silence of Mariana’s apartment. The glow from the screen painted ghostly patterns on the walls as she sat cross-legged on the floor, files spread out in front of her like a crime scene. Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, the cursor blinking, a silent metronome counting down her hesitation. The folder she had cracked open on Diego’s private network glared back at her, packed with incriminating documents. Bank transfers, offshore accounts, coded messages, all of it. One click, one file sent, and Diego’s empire would crumble. But her hand wouldn’t move. The memory of his lips on hers still lingered wild, reckless. It wasn’t supposed to matter, but it did. “This is what you wanted,” she muttered, jaw tightening. “This was the plan.” Yet the longer she stared at the screen, the more the lines blurred. He wasn’t the monster she’d expected. But was that enough to stop her? Her finger brushed the trackpad, ready to hit send. A soft chime broke the silence. A new message blinked onto her screen. Unknown Sender: He knows you’re lying. Get out while you still can. Mariana’s heart lurched into her throat. The message vanished in an instant, gone before she could trace it. She slammed the laptop shut, adrenaline flooding her veins. Who sent the warning? Had Diego found her out? The walls of her apartment suddenly felt too close, the shadows too deep. She grabbed her bag, shoving the laptop inside, and stood by the window, watching the dark street below. Somewhere out there, someone was watching her. Or worse, someone was coming. She didn’t know who the enemy was anymore. But she was sure of one thing. The game had changed. And she wasn’t ready for what came next.