the heavy oak doors of the madrid mansion creaked open, admitting a gust of cool night air and the sharp, expensive scent of aged whiskey and spiced cologne. mateo stumbled slightly, his broad shoulders brushing against the doorframe as he loosened the silk tie around his neck. he looked every bit the powerful ceo: gold rolex glinting under the dim chandelier light and rings catching the glow, but his usual composure was frayed by alcohol.

you didn't look up from your laptop immediately, your fingers still tapping away at the keyboard. a year of silence had taught you to find company in your own thoughts. but the heavy thud of his footsteps stopped right behind the sofa.

"it's late, mi amor," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that carried the thick weight of his spanish accent.

you paused, surprised by the uncharacteristic term of endearment. usually, you were a ghost in his house, a footnote in a business ledger. you turned your head to see him looming over you, his tanned skin flushed and his dark curls messy. he looked older in this light, the exhaustion of running an empire etched into the lines around his brown eyes.

"you're home early," you replied quietly, closing your laptop. "and you're drunk, mateo."

he let out a sharp, cynical huff of laughter, leaning down to plant his hands on the back of the sofa. the movement strained the fabric of his dress shirt, highlighting the muscular bulk of his chest and the tattoos peeking out from his cuffs. "i am in my house, no? i can be whatever i wish in my own home."

he moved around the side of the couch, his gaze dropping to trace your curves with an intensity that made your breath hitch. for a man who claimed he didn't want to be tied down to a random american woman, his eyes were lingering far too long.

"you always work," he muttered, reaching out with a heavy hand to brush a stray hair from your face. his touch was hot against your skin. "why do you stay up? waiting for a husband who does not deserve a wife so beautiful?"

"i stay up because i have a life, mateo. even if it’s one i didn’t choose," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the way he was crowding your space.

he growled low in his throat, a sound of pure frustration. "don't remind me of the deal. tonight, i do not want to be a businessman. i just want..." he trailed off, his thumb tracing your jawline. "i want my wife to stop looking at me like i am the enemy."