1. THE WRONG HOSTAGE

Riya’s POV

Ugh… the white-hot pain seared through my skull as consciousness clawed its way back. “Where… where am I?”

I pressed my palm against my forehead, already slick with sweat, under the air that smelled faintly of cold, metallic rust and oil.

My body felt heavy against the wall, and my head swam with the echo of something… voices.

Low, muffled vibrations rolled through the dim air beside me.

A man’s sharp, angry, and controlled voice.

“There were three of you… THREE. How could you possibly make such a childish mistake?”

That voice... my stomach twisted.

No... it can’t be.

Mateo?

Blinking hard, I turned toward the sound. My vision pulsed in and out of focus, but I knew that silhouette anywhere; broad shoulders sheathed in black, and the edge of a tattoo peeking just past his collar. 

Even from here, that restrained energy radiated off him.

“Do you not have eyes? Are you three blind or something?” His tone sliced through the air.

The men in black masks just before him flinched.

“We’re... terribly sorry, boss,” one stammered. “They were standing together when the lights went out after she announced—”

“Spare me your excuses.” The last word growled out of him.

Oh. That's right.

The gala.

My announcement.

The divorce.

That was the last thing I remembered... my husband’s frozen smile cracking at the corners just before the lights cut out and the room spun into black.

My stomach sank.

God…

I shifted, realizing I was lying on an iron shelf, feeling the cold bite of the metal through the thin silk of my gown. The dizziness almost pulled me back under, and every muscle screamed as I pushed myself upright.

One of the masked men took a step forward.

“We’re terribl—”

“Get out of my sight!”

Silence. 

Boots thudded away, and the air hummed under the low buzz of a single light bulb swaying overhead as he let out a long and tired exhale.

“A… Mateo?” My voice cracked.

He turned, just enough for the light to catch the sharp lines of his face and those unreadable steel-gray eyes.

“Riya.”

His voice didn’t falter. Not even a flicker of surprise.

“You’re awake.”

Always calm. Always unreadable.

I swallowed hard, feeling my heart hammering against my ribs.

“I… I was just about leaving... before everything went black.”

I rubbed at my temple and glanced around the half-empty warehouse.

“What am I even doing here, wherever this is?”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

The silence stretched so long it began to sting.

“I hate when you do that,” I muttered, tightening my voice . “So please... say something.”

Still, he stayed mute.

Typical Mateo.

I’d known him for only a few months... four, maybe five. He's a kind of corporate saint, a strategist who walks into failing companies and resurrects them from ruin. 

My husband had sought him out for whatever crisis he was hiding behind his perfect smile.

That’s how I met him.

He had that rare kind of calm that made people trust him before they even understood why. When he told me he could help me... help me breathe again... I believed him. 

Maybe that was my first mistake.

Seeing that he was a fixer, a savior of sorts, I asked for his help —not for the company, but for me. I wanted out of the gilded cage my husband had built. I wanted to revive the legacy my mother left behind.

And Mateo... I felt that somehow, he understood me.

Earlier at the gala, when he told me to humiliate my husband in public... I believed he had a plan. But now, waking up half-conscious in some Godforsaken place, I wasn’t so sure if I’d been rescued… or played.

“Why did I wake up here… half-conscious in some... warehouse?”

Still, nothing.

Finally, Mateo took a slow breath, stepped aside, and dragged a wooden chair across the concrete floor, forcing a scraping sound.

He flipped it backward, sat, and rested his forearms lazily across the top rail, flexing those muscles under his rolled sleeves.

His calm gaze soon found mine as the chair legs groaned against the concrete when he leaned forward, closing the distance just enough for the already heavy air between us to shift somehow. My lips parted before I even realized it, and I hated that he had that effect on me.

“Why do you think…” His voice came out low. “I brought you here?”

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh, folding my arms to mask the tremor in my chest. “Now that I think about it... I’m sure your men sedated me, dragged me out, and dumped me here.”

He didn’t react.

“I don’t have to answer your ridiculous question,” I snapped, tilting my chin higher.

He stayed silent, and for a moment, all I could hear was the hum of the bulb and my own uneven breathing.

I clicked my tongue and pushed myself off the metal shelf. My knees felt weak, but I still forced myself upright. 

His eyes followed me, tracking every step as I moved past him.

But before I could take a second pace, his hand shot out—fast, and his unyielding fingers firmly wrapped around my arm.

I froze.

The pressure in his grip sent a quick jolt through me, making my pulse stutter, forcing a sharp turn as I glared down at him. “Let go of me.”

He didn’t.

Mateo rose slowly, scraping the chair behind him with a harsh screech. He closed the space between us, and the faint heat of his body began brushing against mine.

“Look at the bright side, Riya,” he murmured. “You wanted out of that marriage your tycoon father shoved you into…”

His hand slid from my arm, tracing down to my waist before resting there.

“…and I gave you a way out.”

My breath hitched, and the air grew heavier.

He leaned closer, whispering against my skin. “That’s not all. I helped you disappear after that little stunt of yours, announcing your divorce in front of the press. Chaos, cameras, scandal, all of the above… You should be thanking me.”

I clenched my jaw as fury began cutting through the pull in my stomach. “Let go of me.” This time, my voice broke under the heat of it.

He didn’t move.

I shoved hard at his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath my palms. “I said—”

Before I could finish, he caught me again—faster this time.

His arm looped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His hot and steady breath grazed the side of my face, and the scent of dark cologne lingered in the space between us and for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to slap him… or thank him.