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. T
wo 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."