Burn For Me

Episode Seven – Trouble, in a Silk Suit

Lucía kept her head down on Monday. She avoided the front windows of the restaurant, refused to check her phone during breaks, and told herself she was imagining the weight in her chest.

It didn’t help that her coworkers noticed. Elena kept giving her looks. Marco, the sous chef, nudged her at one point and whispered, “Got yourself a girlfriend or a ghost? You’ve been jumping all shift.”

Lucía forced a smile. “Neither.”

But the truth was, she hadn’t stopped thinking about Valentina.

And Valentina, apparently, hadn’t stopped either.

---

It started small.

On Tuesday, a chocolate croissant showed up at the back door of the restaurant. No note. Just a white paper bag, still warm, with a ribbon tied around it.

Elena raised a brow when she found it. “Secret admirer?”

Lucía blinked at the bag. “It’s from that bakery on 12th.”

“The one with the line out the door?” Elena whistled. “Someone’s got taste.”

Lucía said nothing. She tossed the bag in the trash.

But the next day, there was a thermos of café de olla. Spiced exactly the way she liked it.

Then, a tiny music box. Old, silver. Delicate. It played the same melody her grandmother used to hum when she was a child.

Valentina wasn’t being subtle.

---

Thursday night, Lucía took a detour on her walk home. She needed air, needed space, needed to clear the fog in her head that smelled like leather and smoke and danger.

She ended up in the park near her old school, on a bench beneath a flickering lamp.

The air was cool, the city noise distant.

She thought she was alone.

Until a shadow moved near the edge of the trees.

Valentina.

Lucía didn’t flinch. She just said, “Do you always follow people like this?”

Valentina looked almost sheepish. Almost.

“No,” she said. “Just you.”

Lucía exhaled slowly. “That’s not reassuring.”

Valentina stepped into the light. She was in navy slacks this time, a turtleneck and a coat that looked like it belonged in a Vogue spread.

She looked tired.

But her eyes lit up the moment she saw Lucía.

“You’re hard to stay away from.”

Lucía crossed her arms. “Maybe you should try harder.”

Valentina smiled. It was lopsided, more human than Lucía expected. “Probably.”

They stood in silence for a beat.

Then Lucía asked, “What do you want from me?”

Valentina was quiet.

“The truth?” she asked.

Lucía nodded.

“I don’t know,” Valentina said. “And that scares the hell out of me.”

Lucía stared at her. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to come into my life, blow it up, and then act like you’re the one who's lost.”

“I’m not trying to blow anything up.”

“You are a walking disaster,” Lucía snapped.

Valentina’s jaw tensed. “Maybe. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You will.”

Valentina looked like she wanted to argue.

But she didn’t.

“Let me take you out,” she said instead.

Lucía laughed. A bitter, breathless thing. “You think a date fixes this?”

“No. But I think it’s a place to start.”

Lucía shook her head. “You are rich, dangerous, and everything I swore I’d stay away from.”

“Then why are you still here?” Valentina asked gently.

Lucía opened her mouth.

Closed it.

She had no answer.

“I don’t want to be a chapter you regret,” Valentina said.

“Then don’t be a chapter at all.”

Valentina stepped closer. “Too late.”

Lucía felt her breath catch. She hated how easy it was to want her. How the danger of it felt like a drug.

But something deeper than fear twisted in her gut.

She wasn’t just falling.

She was sinking.

And Valentina—beautiful, relentless Valentina—was waiting at the bottom.

---

When she got home, Lucía found a letter in her mailbox.

No stamp. No return address.

Inside was a single line, typed in plain black ink:

Stay away from her. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.

Lucía’s hands went cold.

It wasn’t from Valentina.

But someone was watching.

Someone who didn’t want her anywhere near the Moretti heiress.

Her knees buckled slightly as she backed into her apartment and locked the door.

Whatever this was—this tension,This pull, this warning in her chest—

It wasn’t just about feelings anymore.

It was about danger.

And Lucía had just stepped straight into it.