Chapter 5 Her Enemy, Her Invitation

• Valentina didn’t expect to see Rafael again so soon.
• She was still reviewing her notes from the first interview, tucked away in her modest hotel room, when the black car arrived. A sharp knock at her door startled her, followed by the low voice of a driver:
• “Señor Cordero has invited you to dinner. Now.”
• She didn’t hesitate.
• By the time she stepped outside, dressed in a black silk blouse and red lipstick the same shade her mother used to wear the city had turned gold in the fading light. The streets blurred past the tinted windows. Her heart pounded with anticipation.
• She had planned on weeks of subtle infiltration. Flirting, interviews, connections. This…this was fast. Too fast.
• He was drawing her in. Or maybe he had sensed something in her, something dangerous.
• La Fortaleza was more alive at night. Lights glowed from every corridor, but the silence remained. She was escorted through a different wing this time, through a long, elegant hallway with family portraits and weapons mounted like art.
• He was waiting for her on a terrace overlooking the city. The air was cool, scented faintly with expensive cologne and cigar smoke. Rafael stood by the railing, drink in hand, sleeves rolled again, that same unreadable expression on his face.
• “You came,” he said, without turning around.
• “I’m not in the habit of refusing invitations from powerful men.”
• He looked at her, then really looked. His gaze swept over her like a slow blade, not crude, but calculated. Assessing. Measuring. Dangerous.
• “You dress like someone who wants to be remembered.”
• “And you look like someone used to forgetting.”
• That earned her a dry smile. “Careful. You’re not as invisible as you think.”
• She sat, her posture poised, pretending her hands weren’t shaking.
• They ate slowly, beneath golden lights and soft Spanish guitar playing from a speaker somewhere inside. He asked her about her past journalism, Guatemala, travel.
• She lied like she breathed.
• But when she asked about his childhood, he said only one thing:
• “There’s nothing back there worth remembering.”
• And then silence. Heavy. Too heavy.
• Valentina toyed with her wine glass. “Why did you invite me tonight?”
• “Curiosity.”
• “About?”
• He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You don’t scare easily. That’s rare.”
• She smiled. “Maybe I should.”
• Their eyes locked. For one fragile second, she saw something flicker behind his usual calm pain, maybe. Or recognition. But it passed.
• She was in. He was watching her, and not just for danger.
• Which meant the trap was working.
• The morning after dinner with Rafael, Valentina woke with the taste of smoke still lingering on her tongue.
• She lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead. Every moment she spent inside Rafael Cordero’s world felt like walking a tightrope above a pit of knives. One wrong word, one slip of her mask and she’d be dead before her body hit the ground.
• But for now, she was alive. And Rafael had taken the bait.
• A message arrived on her encrypted phone just before noon.
• there's a gala tonight at the hacienda sol be there , you will be on the guest list : RC
• Valentina’s pulse spiked. She sat up, frowning at the message. No hello. No explanation. Just a summons.
• A cartel gala?
• Okay