A DANGEROUS PASSION
1035 Words
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Chapter Two: A Dangerous Passion
The morning sun stretched across the skyline of Bogotá, warming the glass panels of the Monteverde Royale Hotel where Mariana Abagram had been staying since she arrived in Colombia. She had chosen the location for its privacy and elegance — high enough above the city to feel above it all, yet close enough to power to reach it within minutes.
Mariana was still tying her silk robe when the room intercom buzzed.
“Miss Abagram,” the front desk said, “you have a guest. Mr. Leonardo Rivera. Should I send him up?”
She blinked. Leonardo? This early?
It wasn’t even 8 a.m.
“Yes,” she answered, clearing her throat, “send him up.”
She wasn’t expecting him until later that afternoon for their scheduled business discussion at his headquarters. This — a visit to her hotel — felt... unorthodox.
She dressed quickly in a cream blouse and tailored trousers, then smoothed her hair just as the knock came.
When she opened the door, Leonardo stood in the hallway, holding a small tray with two takeaway coffees.
“I figured we could get a head start,” he said.
She hesitated only slightly before stepping aside. “You don’t wait for office hours, do you?”
“I rarely wait for anything,” he replied.
---
They sat on the small balcony overlooking the sprawling morning buzz of Bogotá. He asked sharp, intelligent questions about Virelli & Sons’ expansion strategy, and she answered with ease and confidence.
But as their conversation shifted from logistics to culture, from marketing models to cities they loved, Mariana’s professional mask began to slip just slightly.
“You really like it here?” Leonardo asked, sipping his coffee.
“I do,” she said softly. “Colombia is... vibrant. Fierce and soft at the same time. It feels alive in ways Europe hasn’t in years.”
He looked at her with more interest now. “Thinking of relocating?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” she admitted, a little surprised by her own honesty. “Not just for business. For life.”
Leonardo didn’t reply right away.
He simply studied her, his gaze unreadable.
---
Over the next few weeks, the business partnership progressed quickly. Leonardo made room in his calendar for Mariana in ways he never did for anyone else. Meetings turned into private lunches. Debriefs turned into long conversations on hotel balconies. They debated philosophy over dessert, challenged each other’s ideas, and shared silences that weren’t awkward — just charged.
He never crossed a line.
Not yet.
But lines blurred when you met behind closed doors, when laughter lingered longer than necessary, when eyes said more than words dared.
Mariana told herself they were just colleagues.
But she started to look forward to his messages — the early ones that asked, “Are you free this afternoon?”, and the late ones that said, “Dinner? No agenda, I promise.”
She began to dress with a bit more intention when she knew she’d be seeing him. Just a touch more red on her lips. A bit more silk.
She didn’t know when exactly friendship turned into fascination.
But it did.
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One evening, they had dinner at a quiet rooftop restaurant Leonardo had rented out entirely for them.
As she looked over the candlelit table at him, her breath caught.
He looked tired. Not physically, but spiritually — like a man shouldering too many truths.
“Do you ever feel like you’ve built a kingdom but can’t breathe inside it?” she asked suddenly.
He looked at her.
Long. Deep. Quiet.
“Yes.”
There was a pause, then he added, “I never feel like I belong anywhere, except... when I’m with you.”
Mariana said nothing.
But in her chest, something broke open.
---
That night, for the first time, he kissed her.
It was slow. Deliberate. Not stolen — offered.
She let him.
And in the hours that followed, something dangerous began to take root.
---
The following days blurred into a rhythm of secret weekends at country villas, long night calls under fake names, and private dinners no one was allowed to photograph.
Mariana was careful, but not cautious enough.
She was falling for him — and harder than she ever meant to.
Leonardo, for his part, grew increasingly present and emotionally intense. He wanted to know everything about her. What she dreamed of. What she feared. Who had hurt her before.
She hadn’t spoken about her late husband in years. But one night, curled in silk sheets beside Leonardo, she told him.
“He was wealthy. Respected. But cruel,” she said, voice barely audible. “In public, he held my hand. In private, he silenced me. I wasn’t a wife. I was... a trophy he could punish when no one was watching.”
Leonardo didn’t speak. He just wrapped his arm around her more tightly.
And she let him.
Because in that moment, he felt like protection.
Not knowing he was, in truth, just another secret.
---
He never spoke of Isabela.
Mariana didn’t ask — not because she suspected he was married, but because she trusted that if it were relevant, he would tell her.
She didn’t know about the estate in the hills, or the daughter he had adopted, or the wife who still wore his name like armor.
She only knew what he gave her.
And she thought it was everything.
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But as their passion deepened, so did Leonardo’s need for control.
He began insisting she cancel other meetings.
He disliked her staying out without him.
He questioned her male colleagues — lightly at first, then with irritation masked as “concern.”
“You don’t need anyone else, Mariana,” he said one evening, his voice low and heavy. “I give you all the attention you deserve.”
She smiled, touched by the intensity.
But something inside her flinched.
It was familiar.
Too familiar.
---
In her heart, a storm was beginning to form.
But for now, she danced in the rain.
Because love — or what felt like it — was louder than warning bells.
- Writer
