The kiss didn't happen. Not really. It just sat there between them, close enough that she felt it without it actually landing, and then he pulled back the way he always did, calm, composed, completely unreadable, and just like that the moment was gone.

She stood there trying to collect herself while people clapped around them and cameras went off and she smiled because that was the job. Her heart was still going too fast. Nobody needed to know that.

"That was for the show," he said, low, just for her.

"I know," she said, and her voice came out softer than she meant it to, and she saw him notice, saw something shift in his face before he shut it down and turned to walk her out.

The drive back was quiet. Not comfortable quiet, the other kind. Catalina kept her eyes on the window and her arms crossed and told herself she was fine.

"You didn't have to make it that convincing," she said, after a while.

"It was for appearances." Just that. "That's what this is."

She laughed a little. Not because anything was funny. "Sometimes I honestly can't tell if you're a person or just a very well-dressed wall."

He looked at her. One second. "Walls don't get hurt," he said, and looked back out the window.

She didn't have anything to say to that. So she didn't say anything.

---

Back at the penthouse she went straight to her room, took off the dress, lay on top of the covers and stared at the ceiling. Two months. She kept saying it to herself. Two months and she could walk away from all of this with her life back. She believed it until she got bored of lying there and went to look for something to read.

She fell asleep on the sofa by accident, book on her chest, city lights doing a bad job of being a night light.

She woke up warm.

There was a blanket over her. She hadn't put it there. She stayed still for a moment, just sitting with that, then looked toward the study. Light under the door was off. Penthouse quiet.

She pulled the blanket tighter and stared at the ceiling and tried very hard not to think about what it meant that he'd done that without saying anything about it.

---

Morning. He was already at the table when she came down, coffee in one hand, phone in the other, looking like a man who had absolutely not been putting blankets on sleeping women at two in the morning. She poured herself a coffee. Sat across from him. Neither of them said anything about it.

But something was different after that. Nothing she could name. Just different.

---

A few days later she went to the kitchen half asleep, still in this oversized shirt that had been Javier's that she kept not throwing away, thinking about nothing except coffee, and almost walked straight into Alejandro. Standing at the counter, no shirt, pouring coffee like that was a completely normal thing to be doing.

She stopped.

He looked up. "There's fresh coffee."

"Do you own pajamas," she said. "Or like. Normal clothes. Like a person."

"You're in my house," he said, and the corner of his mouth did that thing.

"Right." She squeezed past him to get a mug. "Forgot the dress code."

He laughed. Not a polite one. A real one, short and quiet, like it surprised him too. She kept her eyes on her coffee and let him pretend it hadn't happened but she was smiling the whole time and she was pretty sure he knew it.

---

Things got easier after that. Not in one go, just slowly, the way ice melts when you're not paying attention. Nina started leaving tea out without being asked. The driver started playing soul music without her having to say anything. Small stuff. It added up.

One afternoon she mentioned a stray cat she'd seen near the building, mentioned it to no one really, the way you say things out loud that aren't going anywhere.

Three days later the cat was in the garage. Fed. Clean. Little bed in the corner.

She went to find Alejandro.

"The cat," she said.

He didn't look up from his laptop. "Nina handled it."

She looked at him a second. "Right," she said. "Of course she did." And she left, and she was almost certain she heard him exhale when she walked away.

---

The first time she saw how tired he actually was, was a Thursday. Past midnight, light still on under the study door. She knocked before she could talk herself out of it.

He was at his desk, tie loose, whisky going warm beside him, staring at a stack of papers like he hated them personally. The room smelled like a long day.

"Long day?" she said.

"I don't remember the last time it wasn't."

She sat down across from him. "You should sleep."

He looked up. "Sleep doesn't fix betrayal."

She felt that somewhere in her chest, quiet. "Who betrayed you?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "Everyone does, eventually," he said, soft, and went back to his papers.

She thought about Javier. She'd been meaning to say something for a while now, kept finding reasons not to, kept telling herself there'd be a better time.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you-"

His phone buzzed. He glanced at it and just like that the tiredness was gone, back behind that face he wore when he was being professional. "Change of plans. Event tonight. Get ready."

And he was already standing.

She let him go. There'd be another moment.

---

The event was a rooftop thing. Smaller than the gala but somehow heavier, the kind of room where everyone's watching each other from behind nice smiles. Catalina had gotten good at this by now, the smiling, the small talk, standing next to him in a way that looked like it meant something. She'd gotten good at the whole thing.

What she hadn't gotten good at was the way he looked at her sometimes when he thought she wasn't looking. Like he was trying to figure something out and wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

She told herself it was just the role.

Then Lucía walked in. Red dress. Perfectly timed. Eyes going straight to Alejandro across the room like she'd done it a hundred times before.

"You stopped picking up," she said. Warm voice. Direct.

Catalina felt him go still beside her. "Lucía."

Lucía looked Catalina over. Slow. "So this is the new charity case."

"Watch your tone," Alejandro said, quiet.

Lucía smiled like she hadn't heard him. "Careful, sweetheart. Men like him don't fall in love. They make arrangements."

Catalina smiled back, all warmth. "Weird, I didn't know exes came with warning labels."

Something moved across Lucía's face. Alejandro's hand pressed into her back and steered her away before anything else could happen.

---

They ended up at the far edge of the terrace. City below them. Neither of them talking for a bit.

"I had her," Catalina said.

"I know."

"Then why."

He was quiet. "Because I didn't want to stand there watching her talk to you like that."

She looked at him. He was looking at the city, jaw tight, not looking back, and she turned back to the railing. They were close, closer than they needed to be, and she was very aware of that, and she had a feeling he was too. She thought about the blanket. The cat. The laugh in the kitchen. All these small things that kept happening and kept not meaning anything and kept adding up anyway.

"Alejandro," she said.

He turned, and his phone rang.

He picked up. The moment was gone. The night kept going.

---

Later she was on the terrace when she heard him come up behind her.

"Lucía won't bother you again."

"You made sure of that?"

"Nobody gets to treat what's mine like that."

She turned around. "I'm not yours. Two months and this is over."

He looked at her, that expression she could never read, then almost smiled. "Get some rest. Tomorrow you meet my family."

Catalina's eyes went wide, memories flooding in all at once.

"The Montoyas?"

Alejandro's smile faltered. He gave her a look. "Why that tone?"

"You're just telling me now. I'm not even ready," she murmured, cold sweat running down her back.

"Well." He rolled his eyes, same flat indifference in his voice. "Last I checked, that's why you're here."

Catalina took a slow breath. She was thinking about what it would be like to have dinner with the Montoyas again. Their territory. That coldness toward ordinary people. All of it made her tense.

Maybe this was the right moment to tell him about Javier. Before he found out on his own.

Alejandro moved quietly toward the water dispenser, poured himself a glass, leaned against the wall and watched her. Not obviously. But she felt it.

She always felt it. That small pull in her chest. But there were more pressing things crowding her head right now.

"You're overthinking," he said finally, voice calm, almost dismissive. "It's just my family. Not gods."

Catalina shrugged, going for unbothered. "Am I?" she said, leaning back against the sofa. "I'm just. Scared."

He looked at her for a long moment. "Fear rarely helps," he said quietly. "Usually just makes things worse."

She caught something in his eyes right then, a flicker of something, and for a second she almost convinced herself it wasn't there.

"Maybe that's why I like it," she said softly. "Complications make things interesting. A little drama never hurt anyone."

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, barely there. "You're dangerous," he murmured, turning away.

"Dangerous is a little much, if you ask me," she said, catching his eyes again. Same as she'd been doing all night.

The air went thick between them. Two people thinking different things in the same silence.

"I should get some water too," she murmured, breaking it, and walked quickly toward the kitchen.

Alejandro watched her go. Almost laughed. Didn't. Followed.

Catalina was tracing the rim of a glass with her finger, not really thinking about it. Alejandro reached past her for a water bottle and for a second their arms touched. Just that. The warmth of it. The awareness.

"You don't have to be careful around me," she said, testing the air. "And I thought you already had water."

He didn't answer right away. His hand stayed close to hers on the counter and she saw it again, that thing in his face, a flicker of something uncertain.

"Caution is necessary," he said finally. Clipped. But softer than before.

"I can handle it," she said, small smile. "I've survived harder things than quiet penthouses and private billionaires."

He studied her. Long, quiet, like he was taking the measure of something deeper than what she was saying.

Then he turned back to the counter and opened the fridge, precise movements, no wasted motion. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. It had its own language. Full of things neither of them was saying.

---

They ended up on the terrace. City lights below, cold and far away. Catalina leaned against the railing and looked out. Alejandro stood just behind her, hands in his pockets.

"You overthink," he said. Almost to himself.

"Do I," she said softly, leaning a little further over the edge. "Didn't know you noticed."

He didn't answer right away. When he did his voice was careful.

"People like you feel everything," he said, and paused. "It's dangerous sometimes." His jaw tightened and she noticed it, that small betrayal of more than he meant to say.

Catalina tilted her head, curious, gently pressing. "Dangerous how?"

He let the question sit in the night air for a moment. Then, almost reluctantly:

"Because some things aren't meant to be felt that deeply. Not everyone can handle it."

"I can," she said quietly, like she was trying to believe it herself.

He didn't answer. But she saw it again, that softness she knew he hadn't meant to show.

"Remember," she whispered, "this is just a transaction." Reminding him. Or maybe herself.

"I never said it wasn't." His voice came out rough, and even though she hated it, Catalina wanted to be wrapped up in his arms right then, that rough voice saying something entirely different in her ear.

But it was just a contract. Love was never one of the clauses.

"Sleep well, princess," he said, and leaning in, pressed a slow kiss to her forehead.

It was almost 6 p.m. when there was a knock at Catalina's door. Expecting Nina, she murmured lazily, "Come in," without bothering to get up.

The door opened and three women walked in, confident and precise.

Catalina blinked.

The same stylists who showed up every time she had somewhere to be with Mr. Montoya. Were they here to put her together again?

She held back the eye roll. Gave them a small smile instead.

"We're here on Mr. Montoya's orders," one of them said, a slight bow. "To prepare you for dinner."

She hadn't asked for them. She nodded anyway and sat down in front of her mirror, trying to quiet whatever was going on in her chest.

Their hands moved fast. Practiced. Almost mechanical, every motion polished by years of doing this to other women. Catalina watched her reflection and barely recognized what they were building.

"I thought it was just a dinner," she murmured.

One of them smiled. The kind of smile that means orders are orders. "It's a Montoya dinner, miss."

"Oh." She swallowed. The memories came back fast - the first and last time she'd walked into that mansion. Hair she'd curled herself, a borrowed dress, shoes that pinched her toes the whole night. Everyone had looked like royalty. She'd looked like someone dropping off a package. Javier hadn't even noticed.

When they finished, Catalina looked - elegant. Soft waves framing her face, warm makeup, a simple but expensive dress that probably cost more than two months of her old rent, falling perfectly. She didn't want to think about the price.

---

The drive to the mansion felt too long. Catalina sat quiet, fingers working at the fabric of her dress. Alejandro was beside her, same unreadable face, scrolling through something on his phone.

"Alejandro," she said softly.

"Mm."

"I'm nervous."

He didn't look up. "That's the point of the contract, Catalina. Make them believe it."

She frowned and looked away. "That's not what I meant."

Silence. Then, without looking at her, he reached over and slipped his fingers through hers.

"You'll be fine," he murmured. "Stay close to me and try your best to ignore my mother."

Catalina raised an eyebrow. Wondered what that meant.

---

The mansion rose up exactly the way she remembered it. Something carved out of old money and pride.

She breathed in one more time than necessary before Alejandro opened the door and she walked in behind him.

Doña Carmen appeared first. Older, elegant, still, radiating the kind of authority that didn't need to announce itself. She hugged her son warmly, took his face in both hands the way a mother does when she adores her child.

Catalina stepped forward with a polite smile.

The woman's eyes moved over her. Slow. Assessing. Unimpressed.

"You're... welcome," she said, a stiff nod.

The coldest welcome Catalina had ever received. She let it go. Remembered what Alejandro had said.

They walked further in and Catalina's stomach dropped the moment she saw her.

Mariana Montoya. Javier's mother. The woman who used to smile sweetly at her while pulling the strings that took everything apart.

Mariana turned and went still.

"Catalina?" Her eyebrows lifted. "You're here... again?"

Catalina's breath caught. Oh no. She hadn't expected her.

If Mariana was here - was Javier here too?

Alejandro's eyes moved between them. "You know each other?"

Mariana smoothed her expression fast. "Ah - yes. We met once. Briefly." A lie, said with elegance.

Alejandro didn't push it. Just nodded and guided Catalina into the dining room.

The Montoya family was already seated, conversation going in every direction. Catalina felt like an intruder standing at the edge of a world she didn't belong in, but she was grateful the only face from her past was Mariana's.

She sat beside Alejandro. He left his hand on the table, close enough to touch hers but not touching. His strange way of steadying her.

Doña Carmen's voice cut through the noise and Catalina felt the woman's eyes on her.

"So, Catalina," she began, interest sharpening her tone. "Jandro tells us you're in love. Which is a little strange, since he's never brought a woman home before, though he was everywhere in the magazines with Lucía."

The table seemed to pause.

"Mamá-" Alejandro's voice, a warning.

"What? I'm just trying to make her feel included," she said, unbothered. Then, a smile that didn't reach anything, "My son doesn't seem to like that question. What is it you do exactly?"

Catalina kept her smile in place. "I work freelance. And I run small fundraising projects for children living on the streets."

A pause. Then the tight, disappointed press of lips.

"Oh. I see."

She didn't see anything. She was judging.

"And will you inherit your father's company?" Carmen continued. "Or will your siblings?"

Catalina's chest tightened. "There's no company. And my parents - they passed away."

"Ah." Carmen nodded slowly, like she was confirming something she'd already suspected. "So you're not a socialite. Not from a business family. Not one of us."

Catalina shrank a little, fingers tensing under the table. Then Alejandro's hand moved and brushed hers. Slow. Quiet. The only warm thing in the room.

She reached for her glass, trying to swallow down the embarrassment burning in her chest. Took a sip just as Carmen said, casual as anything:

"Well. At least Alejandro knows she's not pretending to be more than she is."

Catalina choked.

The wine went everywhere before she could stop it.

Could the night get worse?

Carmen leaned back, the disgust open on her face. "Control yourself. Honestly. You will never meet this family's standards. Some circles are too refined to mix - especially with people like you."

"That's enough." Alejandro's voice came out cold, cutting through the room, cutting off his mother mid-breath. "That's not your call to make."

A silent shock moved through the table. Alejandro had spoken against his mother. Not just his mother - the Montoya matriarch.

Every head lifted. No one said anything.

Then Don Montoya walked in, and the room went quiet without him having to ask it to.

"Oh," he said easily. "Everyone's here."

Alejandro stood. "Good evening, Don."

The older man nodded. "Alejandro." Then his eyes found Catalina and, unlike everyone else, he smiled. "You must be Catalina."

She stood and dipped her head. "Good evening, sir."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he said kindly.

Alejandro's fingers brushed her back under the table. Not a big thing. Just enough.

Catalina looked around the room, quietly praying. Don't let Javier be here. Don't let Mariana say anything. Just let tonight end cleanly.

But the universe had never been particularly kind to her, and the thought was still sitting in her head when footsteps came down the hall.

"God," she breathed, and turned.

There he was. Just as charming and arrogant as she remembered.

His eyes landed on her.

He stopped. Clearly hadn't been expecting her.

"Catalina?" he exhaled.

Alejandro's brow pulled together immediately. "You two know each other?"

Her heart slammed hard.

Javier looked between her in Alejandro's chair and Alejandro's hand near hers.

"What are you doing here. With my uncle."

Catalina couldn't breathe.

The Montoya dining room went completely silent.