Adrián took the passport out of my hand.

“No.”

I stared at him.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean you’re staying here.”

“Camila stole my father’s files.”

“And?”

“And I’m going.”

“You injured your foot walking across a ballroom.”

He glanced at my bandage.

“South Africa would defeat you before immigration.”

I snatched my passport back.

“Then carry me.”

He went silent.

I smiled sweetly.

“You were very capable of doing it last night.”

His jaw tightened.

Twenty minutes later, we were in the Maybach heading for the airport.

Apparently, my strongest negotiation technique was annoying my husband until resistance became more exhausting than surrender.

On the private jet, Adrián worked the entire flight.

I lasted forty-seven minutes before getting bored.

“What did Camila steal?”

“Confidential documents.”

“I understood that part.”

“Then why ask?”

“What do they contain?”

“Information.”

I stared at him.

He continued reading.

I pulled the divorce template from my bag.

His eyes lifted immediately.

“Why do you still have that?”

“For emergencies.”

“Throw it away.”

“No.”

“Valeria.”

“If you refuse to communicate, I need defensive weapons.”

He reached across the table.

I hid the papers behind my back.

“Touch them and I’ll scream.”

“We’re at forty thousand feet.”

“I can still scream.”

His temple twitched.

Finally, he closed the laptop.

“The files contain specifications for a biomedical logistics platform your father’s company developed with ours.”

I blinked.

“You invested in Dad’s project?”

“Yes.”

“You told me you thought his company was badly managed.”

“It is.”

“You called his board a collection of decorative vegetables.”

“They are.”

“And you invested?”

Adrián looked at me as though the answer were obvious.

“Because the technology is good.”

I leaned back.

There was still something bothering me.

“Why were you threatening Camila’s father?”

His expression changed slightly.

“Because this isn’t the first time she targeted you.”

My smile disappeared.

“What?”

He turned his laptop toward me.

Photographs.

Messages.

Security footage.

At a charity gala two months earlier, Camila had spilled red wine on my dress.

I had assumed it was an accident.

At another event, someone had anonymously sent a gossip account photographs implying I was flirting with another man.

Camila’s assistant had sent them.

And at last night’s party—

The video showed Camila looking directly at me before deliberately stepping on the train of my cloak.

I fell.

She fell on top of me.

My ankle twisted.

I watched twice.

“She did that intentionally?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she hates you.”

“A lot of people hate me.”

“I know.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“That sounded insulting.”

“It was observational.”

I kicked his shoe with my good foot.

He caught my ankle.

“Stop.”

I tried again.

His grip tightened.

“Valeria.”

“What?”

“You have exactly one functional foot. Don’t make me confiscate it.”

I folded my arms.

Then another thought occurred to me.

“How do you know so much about people who hate me?”

He released my ankle.

“Security.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It is.”

“You investigated Camila because she ruined my dresses?”

Silence.

I leaned forward.

“Adrián Montenegro.”

His eyes remained on the laptop.

“Are you secretly protecting me?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I am protecting the reputation of Grupo Montenegro.”

“From someone stepping on my cloak?”

“Your public humiliation reflects poorly on the family.”

I smiled.

He noticed.

“Stop smiling.”

“You love me.”

His expression turned glacial.

“Don’t become delusional.”

“You love me.”

“Go to sleep.”

“You absolutely—”

He put noise-canceling headphones over my ears.

I gasped.

He turned the music on.

I kicked him.

With my good foot.

He caught that one too.

For the rest of the flight, he worked while holding both my ankles on his lap.

It was ridiculous.

It was also the most romantic thing Adrián Montenegro had ever done.

We landed in Cape Town shortly after sunrise.

Camila had already left the airport.

Adrián’s security team traced a car rented under another name to a waterfront hotel.

He ordered me to remain in the suite.

I waited exactly six minutes.

Then I followed him.

Unfortunately, Adrián knew me.

The elevator opened.

He was standing inside.

Waiting.

I stopped.

He stared at me.

I stared back.

“How?”

“I told security you’d escape within ten minutes.”

“That’s offensive.”

“You lasted six.”

He stepped out, picked me up without warning and carried me back toward the room.

“Adrián!”

Hotel guests turned.

“Put me down!”

“No.”

“I am an adult woman!”

“Debatable.”

“I’ll divorce you!”

His arms tightened.

“You tried that yesterday.”

“I can try again.”

He put me inside the suite.

“Security stays at the door.”

“You can’t imprison me.”

“I can if you’re determined to turn international corporate espionage into tourism.”

The door closed.

I immediately began searching for another exit.

There was a balcony.

Thirty floors above the ground.

I wasn’t that committed.

So I waited.

An hour later, someone knocked.

I assumed Adrián had returned.

I opened the door.

Camila stood there.

My smile disappeared.

She looked nothing like the polished woman from Madrid.

Her hair was tied back.

No makeup.

A flash drive hung around her neck.

And she had a small pistol in her hand.

“Inside.”

My heart slammed.

I stepped backward.

She closed the door.

“Where is Adrián?”

“I thought you hated my face.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“Everything becomes a joke when I’m terrified.”

Her hand trembled.

That scared me more than if it had been steady.

“You ruined everything,” she whispered.

“Me?”

“Adrián was going to invest in my father’s company.”

“He withdrew because you stole confidential files.”

“He withdrew before that.”

I remembered the phone call.

“What does that have to do with me?”

Her expression twisted.

“Everything has to do with you.”

Then I understood.

Not business.

Jealousy.

“Camila…”

“You don’t deserve him.”

I almost laughed from sheer disbelief.

“You flew halfway across the world to tell me that?”

“He doesn’t even like you.”

That hurt more than I wanted it to.

Because sometimes I had wondered the same thing.

Camila saw my expression.

“He insults you constantly. Everyone knows he married you because the families wanted it.”

I said nothing.

“He called you stupid at the Christmas dinner.”

“Technically, he said my decision to eat six oysters from a suspicious buffet was stupid.”

“You think that’s love?”

“No.”

A voice came from behind her.

“I do.”

Camila froze.

So did I.

Adrián stood in the doorway connecting the suite to the adjoining room.

Of course.

The paranoid capitalist had booked both.

His eyes were not on me.

They were on the gun.

“Put it down, Camila.”

She turned.

“Adrián—”

“Now.”

His voice changed.

I’d heard him cold before.

This was different.

There was nothing human in it.

Camila’s hand shook harder.

“You destroyed my family because of her!”

“No.”

He moved closer.

“You destroyed your family because you committed corporate theft.”

“You withdrew the investment because she got hurt!”

“Yes.”

My heart stopped.

Camila laughed bitterly.

“There. Finally.”

She looked at me.

“Do you know what your husband told my father?”

I didn’t answer.

“He said if I touched you again, there wouldn’t be enough of our company left to sell.”

I slowly looked at Adrián.

His expression said this was an inconvenient time for emotional revelations.

Then Camila raised the gun.

Everything happened at once.

Adrián lunged.

Security burst through the door.

Someone screamed.

Possibly me.

Probably me.

The gun hit the carpet.

Camila was restrained.

And Adrián immediately turned toward me.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Did she touch you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He took my face between his hands.

His fingers were trembling.

Adrián Montenegro’s hands never trembled.

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

He closed his eyes.

Then pulled me against his chest.

Hard.

For once, there was no insult.

No sarcasm.

No cold remark.

Only his heartbeat pounding against my cheek.

Later, after statements were taken and Camila was removed, we stood alone on the hotel balcony.

I finally asked:

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

I stared at him.

“That you love me.”

He looked uncomfortable.

Which was extraordinary.

Adrián could negotiate billion-euro acquisitions without blinking.

Three emotional words apparently threatened his survival.

“I married you.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“I gave you access to everything I own.”

“Still not an answer.”

“I sleep approximately thirty percent worse when you’re traveling.”

I blinked.

“Was that supposed to be romantic?”

“For me, extremely.”

I started laughing.

His expression darkened.

“Forget it.”

He turned away.

I caught his sleeve.

“Adrián.”

He stopped.

“I heard you last night and genuinely believed you wanted me gone.”

His face slowly changed.

“I packed four suitcases because I thought being annoying was enough to make you stop wanting me.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he said quietly:

“You are annoying.”

My mouth fell open.

He continued before I could hit him.

“You talk during movies.”

He stepped closer.

“You steal my pillows.”

Another step.

“You lose your phone while holding it.”

Closer.

“You once called emergency services because you thought there was an intruder in the kitchen.”

“There was a noise!”

“It was the refrigerator.”

“It sounded criminal.”

For the first time, he smiled.

Barely.

Then his forehead touched mine.

“You are the loudest disruption my life has ever suffered.”

His voice softened.

“And when you’re not there, the silence is unbearable.”

I stopped breathing.

That was Adrián.

Not poetry.

Not roses.

Not easy declarations.

But I finally understood his language.

I whispered:

“So no South Africa?”

“No.”

“Paris?”

“With me.”

“Milan?”

“If necessary.”

“Half your assets?”

His expression immediately hardened.

“Don’t push your luck.”

I grinned.

He kissed me.

Six months later, Camila was convicted for offenses related to the stolen corporate information.

Her father’s company survived after restructuring, although Montenegro Group permanently withdrew its investment.

My father recovered the compromised project.

And Adrián made one significant change.

He stopped calling me useless.

Mostly.

Now, whenever he said, “You’re a disaster,” he usually added something afterward.

“My disaster.”

It was possessive.

Arrogant.

Ridiculous.

I loved it.

And I never went to South Africa to dig diamonds.

Adrián did eventually take me there, though.

On our anniversary.

Cape Town.

Wine country.

The coast.

No ostriches as transportation.

I was deeply disappointed.

One evening, watching the sunset from our hotel balcony, I asked him:

“If you’d actually wanted to get rid of me, where would you have sent me?”

He didn’t look up from his tablet.

“Nowhere.”

“Why?”

“Because you’d come back.”

I smiled.

“You know me well.”

“No.”

He finally looked at me.

“Because I’d come after you.”

For once, I had absolutely nothing to say.

Adrián raised an eyebrow.

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“I finally discovered how to make you quiet.”

I threw a cushion at his head.

And that was how my husband learned the most important rule of our marriage:

Silence was never going to be one of my virtues.

Fortunately, he’d finally admitted he didn’t want it to be.