CHAPTER 7 : NO ONE WALKS AWAY
914 Words
The night should have ended after the gala.
But Salvador had other plans.
“Stay for a nightcap,” he said as we exited the ballroom, his hand resting lightly against my back. A private gathering. Just a few close associates.”
I should have said no.
I should have walked away.
But something about Salvador’s tone—an unspoken challenge, a dare cloaked in invitation—kept me rooted to the spot.
I glanced around. Andrew was nowhere in sight.
A part of me wanted to find him, to ask him why he had looked at me that way on the dance floor. But another part of me knew that if I sought him out now, it would be a mistake.
So I nodded. “Alright.”
The Private Gathering
Salvador’s penthouse wasn’t just luxurious—it was a statement.
The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Las Vegas skyline in breathtaking clarity. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in golden light, and the air smelled of expensive cologne and aged whiskey.
A handful of people lounged around—powerful men in tailored suits, women draped in diamonds and silk.
This was Salvador’s world.
And now, I was standing inside it.
He handed me a glass of wine. “Relax, Paloma. You look like a rabbit caught in a trap.”
I forced a smile. “Just taking it all in.”
His gaze lingered on me, sharp and assessing. “Good. Because if you play your cards right, this could be the start of something… extraordinary.”
The words should have excited me.
Instead, they made my skin prickle.
A Dangerous Proposition
An hour passed in a blur of conversation and clinking glasses.
I found myself seated next to Salvador on the leather couch, my wine untouched. He spoke about his business ventures, his influence in the fashion industry, how he could make things happen with a single phone call.
And then—
“I want you to work exclusively for me, Paloma.”
I froze.
“Excuse me?”
He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the back of the couch. “You have talent. But talent alone isn’t enough in this city. You need someone to open doors for you.”
“And that someone is you?”
He smiled, slow and knowing. “Of course.”
I hesitated. “What does ‘exclusive’ mean?”
His fingers grazed the stem of his glass. “It means your best designs, your finest work—they go to me. My associates, my clients. No one else.”
The weight of his words settled over me.
A golden cage, no matter how beautiful, was still a cage.
I exhaled. “That’s a big decision.”
He reached out, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. His touch was light, but possessive.
“You don’t have to decide now,” he murmured. “Just think about it.”
I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close he was.
And then—
A voice cut through the moment.
“She’s not interested.”
A Reckless Interruption
My breath caught as Andrew stepped into the room.
The easy, professional mask he usually wore was gone. In its place was something raw. Unfiltered.
Salvador’s expression didn’t change, but I felt the shift in the air.
“Andrew,” he said smoothly, “I don’t recall inviting you to this conversation.”
Andrew’s eyes flickered to me. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, though my pulse was erratic. “I—yes. We were just talking.”
His jaw tightened. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
Salvador chuckled, setting his glass down. “You’re out of line.”
Andrew didn’t flinch. “And you’re pushing boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed.”
Tension crackled between them, thick and dangerous.
Around the room, the other guests exchanged looks—some amused, some wary. This wasn’t just a chauffeur speaking to his boss.
This was personal.
I placed a hand on Andrew’s arm, feeling the coiled tension beneath his suit jacket. “Andrew, it’s fine.”
His gaze burned into mine. “Is it?”
Something in his voice made my stomach twist.
Because the truth was—I didn’t know.
Salvador exhaled, standing up. “I think we’re done for the night.” He turned to me, his expression unreadable. “Think about my offer, Paloma. Carefully.”
I nodded stiffly, my thoughts tangled.
Andrew didn’t wait. He took my hand and led me toward the door, his grip firm but not forceful.
I didn’t resist.
The Escape
The moment we stepped into the hallway, Andrew let go, exhaling sharply.
“What the hell were you doing in there?”
I crossed my arms. “I was networking.”
His eyes darkened. “That wasn’t networking, Paloma. That was him pulling you into something you don’t understand.”
Frustration flared in my chest. “Then explain it to me! Because all night, people have been warning me about Salvador, but no one is actually telling me why.”
Andrew hesitated, his jaw tight.
I stepped closer. “Tell me the truth, Andrew. Why do you care so much?”
Silence stretched between us.
Then, finally, he whispered—
“Because I know what happens to people who owe Salvador Montenegro a debt.”
A chill ran down my spine. “And what happened to them?”
His voice was quiet. Haunted.
“They don’t get to walk away.”
- Writer
