Chapter 7 Dangerous Curiosity

Mariana’s hands stilled over the keyboard as Diego’s voice sliced through the silence. “I want you at dinner tonight.” Her head jerked up. He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, watching her with the same unreadable expression that had haunted her thoughts for weeks. "A meal?" Making sure to speak in a neutral tone, she repeated. His dark eyes didn’t waver. “A private gathering. High-level clients. People who control the tides of power.” His tone turned sharper. “I want to see how you handle pressure.” Mariana swallowed the flicker of unease crawling up her spine. This wasn’t an invitation. It was a test. And she couldn’t refuse. She gave him a practiced smile. “I thought I was just your assistant, not part of your social circle.” Diego smirked. “You’re not. But you’re smart, and I need smart people in the room tonight.” He moved closer, his presence suffocating. “Or maybe you’re afraid?” Her pride flared. “Not in the slightest.” He studied her, amused. “Good. Be ready at eight.” As he walked away, she exhaled, her mind already racing. This was dangerous. Very dangerous. Diego was already watching her too closely, and now he was pulling her deeper into his world. And worst of all, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape it anymore. The restaurant was an opulent maze of chandeliers, silk-draped booths, and whispered conversations. Mariana stepped through the entrance, the black silk dress Diego had arranged for her hugging her curves, her every move deliberate. Power simmered in the air. Billionaires. Politicians. Influential figures whose names never made it to the public. And at the center of it all, Diego. He didn’t look at her when she approached, but she felt his awareness of her. Then, another presence slithered into the space beside her. “Ah,” a deep voice murmured. “You’re a brave one, working for Montero.” Mariana turned. Rodrigo Santillán. His smile was all charm, but his eyes were shadowed with something darker. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he added smoothly. From across the table, Diego’s jaw tightened. But instead of anger, something colder gleamed in his gaze, possession. The balcony overlooked the glittering skyline of the city, but Mariana barely noticed the view. The air between her and Diego was charged, the space between them narrowing with every passing second. “You’ve been in places you shouldn’t be,” Diego said, his voice low, almost dangerous. Mariana met his gaze, refusing to flinch. “Should I ask permission next time?” He exhaled, his lips pressing into a thin line. “This isn’t a game, Mariana.” She tilted her head, her lips curving into a smirk. “Are you sure? Because you seem to enjoy playing with me.” Diego moved closer, his body a whisper away from hers. “I don’t trust you.” Mariana’s pulse pounded in her ears, but she forced herself to remain composed. “That makes two of us.” His fingertips made a quick, electrifying graze on her arm. "Perhaps you ought to begin to fear me." Her breath caught, but she quickly covered it up. "Perhaps I simply don't fear you as much as everyone else does." His jaw muscle twitched. His breath warmed her face as he drew closer. Then, he gave her a kiss. It wasn’t gentle. It was all heat and tension, a clash of control and defiance. Mariana’s fingers curled into his jacket, her body betraying her mind. For a split second, she let herself sink into it, into him. Then, reality slammed into her. She pushed him away, chest heaving. Diego’s eyes were dark, unreadable, but she saw something dangerous flicker there. “You keep running, Mariana,” he murmured. “But I wonder, who are you really running from? Me, or yourself?” Without answering, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing in the moonlight, furious and intrigued. Mariana shut the door to her apartment and exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her lips. She still felt Diego there. She needed to regain control. To remember why she was here. But the moment she turned on the lights, her stomach dropped. Her table was covered in files, ones she hadn’t left there. Someone had been inside. A single note lay on top. “You’re in deeper than you realize.” Her hands trembled as she picked it up, her mind racing. She wasn’t the only one playing a dangerous game. Rodrigo Santillán was watching her, too. The night was thick with tension. Mariana sat in the dim glow of her apartment, her fingers lightly tapping against the rim of her wine glass. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, a dangerous mix of confusion, frustration, and something she refused to name. The kiss on the balcony still burned on her lips, and the way Diego had looked at her, like he saw something he shouldn’t, made her stomach twist. Then, her phone buzzed. She stared at the name on the screen. Diego Montero. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Slowly, she answered. “You’re calling late.” His voice came through the receiver, low and rough. “You’re not who you say you are.” Mariana’s blood ran cold, but she forced a slow, amused chuckle. “That’s a bold accusation.” Silence. Heavy. Unforgiving. “I don’t know what game you’re playing,” Diego continued, his voice deceptively calm. “But I can’t look away.” Mariana clenched her jaw. “And that bothers you?” “It should,” Diego admitted. “But it doesn’t.” Her breath hitched. There was something raw in his tone, something unguarded. A warning and an admission all in one. Mariana swallowed, choosing her next words carefully. “Then maybe you should stop looking.” “I tried.” She closed her eyes, her grip tightening around the glass. This was dangerous. Too dangerous. Her voice was quieter than she had meant when she said, "I'll see you in the morning." A beat of silence. Then, click. Mariana exhaled, staring at her reflection in the window. She was in deeper than she realized. But she wasn’t the only one. Meanwhile… Rodrigo Santillán sat in a leather chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the mahogany desk. Across from him, a monitor flickered to life, playing the footage, Mariana and Diego on the balcony, bodies pressed too close, lips colliding in a moment that neither of them had anticipated. Rodrigo smirked, swirling the glass of whiskey in his hand. “Well, well,” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone. “Let’s see how this plays out.”