#SlowBurn #Romance #HiddenSecrets #Billionaire
The sun filtered weakly through the lace curtains in the guest room Valeria now called home. Madrid was colder than she remembered, its sharp winds biting through her thin jacket as she ventured out each morning. But it wasn’t the weather that left her chilled—it was the silence. The absence of Alejandro. The absence of everything.She moved like a ghost through her days. Mornings spent at the small design firm where she worked under the alias "Valeria Ríos." Afternoons sketching in quiet parks, where no one knew her name. Evenings curled on a secondhand couch, wrapped in a blanket that couldn’t warm the ache that lived inside her.Everywhere she went, she carried the weight of her decision.Leaving had been the only choice. She knew that. Still, the emptiness that followed was not something she had anticipated.The city was beautiful—artsy cafés, winding cobblestone alleys, ancient cathedrals—but nothing in it called to her. Nothing whispered home.Not the way Alejandro’s voice once
Alejandro stood in the middle of the massive penthouse, staring out over the glittering skyline of Mexico City. Yet all he saw was her.Valeria.Every inch of his home still whispered her presence, even weeks after she had left. The scent of her favorite vanilla and sandalwood candle still clung faintly to the living room. Her mug—chipped, floral, and completely unlike the rest of his sleek, minimalist kitchenware—remained on the shelf where she’d always kept it. He hadn’t moved it. Couldn’t. As if touching it would confirm she wasn’t coming back.He’d gone through the motions for days. Meetings. Calls. Interviews. He spoke, nodded, even smiled when necessary. But his soul hadn’t followed. It was as though some vital part of him had left the moment she walked away.And no one—not his colleagues, not his board, not even Lucía with her smug little smirks—had been able to reach him.Because Valeria was the only one who ever had.The breaking point came one morning in the most ordinary wa
Alejandro had always been a man of control. He prided himself on his ability to stay composed, to analyze every situation with cool detachment. But in the face of Valeria's absence, he was unraveling. The office felt colder than usual that morning. The high-rise windows overlooked the city, but Alejandro couldn’t focus on the view. His mind kept drifting to her—the quiet hum of her presence, the way she would tap her pen against the desk when she was deep in thought, the smile that had once brightened even his darkest days. But that smile was now gone. The woman who had once filled the gaps in his life, the one who had made him laugh in spite of himself, was out of reach. Gone. Vanished. His gaze flickered to the paper in his hand—his proposal for the board meeting that day. It meant nothing now. He could practically hear his team, the usual suspects, whispering behind his back. He hadn’t been himself for weeks. He’d let everything slip, his focus fractured by the ghost of her.
The plane touched down in Madrid under a sky heavy with gray clouds, but Alejandro barely noticed the weather. His hands were clenched on his lap, and his heart thudded with every passing second. He hadn’t slept much since Valeria left. Even less since she agreed to see him again. The last time they spoke, he’d begged her to come home. This time, he had come for her. She was waiting in a quiet corner of a rooftop café overlooking the city—her favorite spot, she’d once mentioned. The sky was beginning to blush with twilight, casting gold across her skin. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a loose braid, and she wore no makeup, no designer clothes. Just simplicity. Honesty. She looked up when he approached, and he saw it—hesitation behind her eyes. Pain, maybe. Or fear. But she didn’t run. “Alejandro,” she said softly. He stood before her, breath shallow. “Valeria.” A moment passed between them—filled with unspoken things, months of silence, misunderstandings, aching. “
The sun rose over San Miguel de Allende in a golden blaze, casting warm light across the cobblestone streets and colonial buildings. The small town, chosen deliberately by Valeria for its charm and privacy, was still quiet—except for the private hacienda tucked behind flowering bougainvillea and carved wooden gates. Today wasn’t about press. It wasn’t about contracts or damage control. Today was about them. Alejandro stood in front of the tall mirror, adjusting the crisp collar of his white linen shirt. His hands were steady, but his chest was full—of anticipation, of wonder, of something close to joy. He never thought he’d feel this again. Not after the betrayals. Not after the loneliness. But then Valeria happened. And everything had changed. Outside the room, his younger brother Emilio knocked once and stepped in with a grin. “You ready, man?” Alejandro met his reflection in the mirror. For the first time in years, he didn’t see the cold CEO. He saw a man softened by l
Monterrey, Mexico – 7:42 a.m.The office of Herrera & Sons was as cold and polished as its CEO — sleek lines, steel accents, and silence sharp enough to cut glass.And into that silence stormed Valeria Mendoza, twenty-six, five-foot-five, soaked in caramel macchiato, and dangerously close to snapping.“¡Maldita sea!” she hissed, dabbing at her blouse with a napkin that was failing its life’s mission.The receptionist flinched. “Señorita Mendoza, are you okay?”Valeria forced a tight smile, clutching her ruined coffee cup. “Fine. Just another glamorous Monday of burning my chest and soul.”She strode toward the elevator, high ponytail swaying, heels clicking with purpose. She had five minutes to get to the top floor and deliver updated design boards to The Ice King himself — Alejandro Herrera.CEO. Architect. Walking thundercloud in a designer suit.Valeria had been Alejandro’s assistant for exactly four weeks. In that time, he had:Learned her name (barely).Criticized her font choice
“You're late.”Alejandro didn’t bother looking at her as she stepped into the sleek black town car waiting by the curb. His eyes remained glued to his phone, thumb flicking through unread emails like they were beneath him.Valeria yanked the door shut and exhaled, annoyed. “You're lucky I agreed to this insane idea at all.”He finally glanced up — crisp suit, sharp jawline, a pair of sunglasses that screamed I don’t do patience.“And yet here you are.”She narrowed her eyes. “Only because you offered to triple my salary. And I need to pay off my mom’s hospital bills.”Alejandro looked at her for a beat longer than necessary, as if trying to read between her words. Then he returned to his phone, voice flat. “You’ll need to smile more.”“I’ll smile when you’re less of a jackass.”He almost smirked. Almost.Inside the Town CarValeria smoothed down her borrowed designer dress — a sleek off-the-shoulder navy number pulled from the firm's PR closet at the last second. She looked like she b
Valeria stood outside Alejandro’s penthouse door, wine bottle in one hand, nerves twisting her stomach like ribbon. She was dressed in a fitted emerald green dress — conservative enough for a family dinner, but flattering enough to make Alejandro stare. Which she definitely wasn’t hoping for. At all.She exhaled.You can do this. Pretend. Smile. Eat. Lie. Leave.She rang the bell.The door opened instantly, revealing Alejandro — barefoot, in a black button-down rolled up at the sleeves and charcoal trousers. Casual. Sinfully casual.Valeria’s brain took a second to reboot.“You’re late,” he said, voice flat.“You’re not wearing shoes.”His mouth twitched. “You brought wine?”“You said to look convincing. Nothing screams loving fiancée like a good Malbec.”He took the bottle, their fingers brushing briefly. “You look—”Valeria raised a brow. “What?”His eyes lingered a second too long. “Convincing.”She hated how smug it made her feel.Inside the PenthouseThe place was too clean. Mode
The sun rose over San Miguel de Allende in a golden blaze, casting warm light across the cobblestone streets and colonial buildings. The small town, chosen deliberately by Valeria for its charm and privacy, was still quiet—except for the private hacienda tucked behind flowering bougainvillea and carved wooden gates. Today wasn’t about press. It wasn’t about contracts or damage control. Today was about them. Alejandro stood in front of the tall mirror, adjusting the crisp collar of his white linen shirt. His hands were steady, but his chest was full—of anticipation, of wonder, of something close to joy. He never thought he’d feel this again. Not after the betrayals. Not after the loneliness. But then Valeria happened. And everything had changed. Outside the room, his younger brother Emilio knocked once and stepped in with a grin. “You ready, man?” Alejandro met his reflection in the mirror. For the first time in years, he didn’t see the cold CEO. He saw a man softened by l
The plane touched down in Madrid under a sky heavy with gray clouds, but Alejandro barely noticed the weather. His hands were clenched on his lap, and his heart thudded with every passing second. He hadn’t slept much since Valeria left. Even less since she agreed to see him again. The last time they spoke, he’d begged her to come home. This time, he had come for her. She was waiting in a quiet corner of a rooftop café overlooking the city—her favorite spot, she’d once mentioned. The sky was beginning to blush with twilight, casting gold across her skin. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a loose braid, and she wore no makeup, no designer clothes. Just simplicity. Honesty. She looked up when he approached, and he saw it—hesitation behind her eyes. Pain, maybe. Or fear. But she didn’t run. “Alejandro,” she said softly. He stood before her, breath shallow. “Valeria.” A moment passed between them—filled with unspoken things, months of silence, misunderstandings, aching. “
Alejandro had always been a man of control. He prided himself on his ability to stay composed, to analyze every situation with cool detachment. But in the face of Valeria's absence, he was unraveling. The office felt colder than usual that morning. The high-rise windows overlooked the city, but Alejandro couldn’t focus on the view. His mind kept drifting to her—the quiet hum of her presence, the way she would tap her pen against the desk when she was deep in thought, the smile that had once brightened even his darkest days. But that smile was now gone. The woman who had once filled the gaps in his life, the one who had made him laugh in spite of himself, was out of reach. Gone. Vanished. His gaze flickered to the paper in his hand—his proposal for the board meeting that day. It meant nothing now. He could practically hear his team, the usual suspects, whispering behind his back. He hadn’t been himself for weeks. He’d let everything slip, his focus fractured by the ghost of her.
Alejandro stood in the middle of the massive penthouse, staring out over the glittering skyline of Mexico City. Yet all he saw was her.Valeria.Every inch of his home still whispered her presence, even weeks after she had left. The scent of her favorite vanilla and sandalwood candle still clung faintly to the living room. Her mug—chipped, floral, and completely unlike the rest of his sleek, minimalist kitchenware—remained on the shelf where she’d always kept it. He hadn’t moved it. Couldn’t. As if touching it would confirm she wasn’t coming back.He’d gone through the motions for days. Meetings. Calls. Interviews. He spoke, nodded, even smiled when necessary. But his soul hadn’t followed. It was as though some vital part of him had left the moment she walked away.And no one—not his colleagues, not his board, not even Lucía with her smug little smirks—had been able to reach him.Because Valeria was the only one who ever had.The breaking point came one morning in the most ordinary wa
The sun filtered weakly through the lace curtains in the guest room Valeria now called home. Madrid was colder than she remembered, its sharp winds biting through her thin jacket as she ventured out each morning. But it wasn’t the weather that left her chilled—it was the silence. The absence of Alejandro. The absence of everything.She moved like a ghost through her days. Mornings spent at the small design firm where she worked under the alias "Valeria Ríos." Afternoons sketching in quiet parks, where no one knew her name. Evenings curled on a secondhand couch, wrapped in a blanket that couldn’t warm the ache that lived inside her.Everywhere she went, she carried the weight of her decision.Leaving had been the only choice. She knew that. Still, the emptiness that followed was not something she had anticipated.The city was beautiful—artsy cafés, winding cobblestone alleys, ancient cathedrals—but nothing in it called to her. Nothing whispered home.Not the way Alejandro’s voice once
The city blurred past the window of Alejandro’s car, but he wasn’t seeing it. Not really. He was driving without direction, one hand clenched around the steering wheel, the other clutching his phone like it might give him answers. But no message came. No apology. No explanation that would make what she’d done any less unbearable. She had lied. Lied with her silence, with her smile, with every kiss she had given him while hiding the truth about who she really was. And yet—he missed her. The scent of her shampoo still lingered on his pillow. The ghost of her laugh haunted the kitchen, the terrace, the office. And that night—the night they had finally crossed the line—he couldn’t erase the way she had looked at him. Vulnerable. Honest. Like she was handing him her whole heart. So why did it feel like he had never known her at all? Valeria stood in the middle of her studio, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. The air smelled like dust and turpentine, and her last sketch lay unfinis
Alejandro didn’t sleep the night Valeria left. He barely blinked. Her absence clung to the air like smoke, curling into every space of the penthouse. The note sat on the counter, a cruel echo of the way she had once entered his life—quiet, precise, and impossible to ignore. By morning, he was at his office, jaw clenched, eyes bloodshot. He buried himself in meetings, emails, design approvals—anything to keep from thinking about the way her skin had felt beneath his fingers. The way she had looked at him right before everything changed. But nothing could keep the memories at bay. Especially not when his assistant walked in holding a thin manila envelope with no return address. “This came for you. Hand-delivered,” she said, setting it on his desk. He stared at it. Something felt off. He opened it slowly. Inside was a single glossy photo—Valeria, younger, standing beside a man Alejandro recognized instantly: Marcos Vargas, CEO of ArqLine, Alejandro’s biggest rival in the architectur
The air between them was different now. After the boardroom showdown, after Valeria had exposed Lucía and stood by Alejandro when he needed it most, the lines they had drawn in their fake marriage blurred dangerously. They didn’t speak on the ride home. Words weren’t enough. Their bodies hummed with a tension that had nowhere else to go but forward. Alejandro opened the door to the penthouse and let her walk in first. She didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate. She went straight to the bedroom, then turned to him, waiting. It was a dare. An invitation. A challenge. He followed her, his heart thundering. For weeks, they’d played the part of husband and wife for the press, for his family, for the company. But tonight, they weren’t acting. Not anymore. He closed the door behind him. Slowly. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse, betraying how much he needed her answer to be yes. She nodded. “I don’t want to think. Not tonight.” He crossed the room in three strides and pulle
The luxury office of Herrera Designs had never been colder. Alejandro sat behind his desk, unmoving, eyes locked on the email from legal confirming Lucía’s new authority. The woman had played the long game, and she played it well. Twenty-one percent wasn’t enough to oust him outright—but it was enough to cause chaos. He didn’t have time for chaos. Not when he was still fighting to win Valeria back. “Sir,” his assistant said quietly over the intercom. “You have someone waiting in the lobby.” “If it’s Lucía again, tell her I’m busy choking on my pride.” “It’s not her. It’s... Valeria.” Alejandro’s breath caught. He was up and out of the chair before he could think. The elevator ride down felt like a century. When the doors opened, she was there—cool, collected, breathtaking. Her hair was tied back