Chapter 5 Neat, with a Twist
Her breath stuttered. She hated that he noticed. His gaze lingered, steady, unreadable, then he stepped back, professional mask sliding into place.
That’s when Freya swooped in, iced coffee in hand and zero shame in her soul.
“Okay,” she announced, “I am obsessed with you. Thank you for verbally undressing Ricardo Montoya in front of his father. I’ve dreamed of that moment for years.”
Cole’s mouth twitched. “Happy to be of service.” Freya grinned.
“You’re officially my favorite man alive. Which, statistically, means you’re doomed.” She turned to Maritza.
“Lunch meeting. You two are working together now, so figure out how not to kill each other before dinner.”
Maritza opened her mouth to protest, but Cole nodded smoothly. “Lunch sounds good. Strictly business, of course.”
Freya smirked. “Oh, everything I plan is business. Except the champagne.”
Cole shot Maritza one last glance—warm, infuriatingly calm. “I’ll text you the time,” he murmured. “Try not to start another scandal before then.”
Later Cafeteria
The cafeteria gleamed like wealth and secrets. Maritza’s heels echoed as whispers followed. Scandal had its own soundtrack.
Cole was already there, sleeves rolled, tie loose, glasses on. Dangerous.
“Miss de León,” he greeted. “You’re late.”
She dropped into a chair. “Relax, counselor. Five minutes isn’t a felony.”
“In this family? It’s a press cycle.” He kept typing. “Plenty of time for a new headline.”
She leaned forward. “You took this job to torture me.”
“Maybe I did.”
“Why?” she demanded. “You hate corporate politics.”
He met her gaze. “Maybe I like animals.”
Her pulse stuttered. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting,” he said, sliding a folder across. “Now, damage control.”
“We caused the scandal?” she shot back.
“Yes, we. You kissed me. Cameras rolled. Stocks dipped.”
She huffed. “Romantic.”
“I’ve convinced the major partners to hold steady,” he continued. “Your father owes me a thank-you.”
“Impressive,” she muttered. “Do all your jobs start with a kiss?”
“I don’t rehearse,” he said. “I win.”
Before she could retort, a hand grabbed hers.
Ricardo.
“You disappear for days and show up with him? Everyone’s watching—you’re supposed to be my fiancée!”
Her laugh was pure venom. “Right. And you slept with your assistant at my birthday party. Maybe you shouldn’t talk about appearances.”
Gasps. Cameras. Chaos.
Cole stood slowly. Calm, lethal. “This is a workplace, Mr. Montoya. If you want a personal scene, schedule it elsewhere. Or Security will.”
Ricardo froze, then stormed out.
Cole turned to Maritza. “You okay?”
She exhaled shakily. “You always end fights with paperwork?”
“It’s faster than fists,” he said. “Now—focus.”
“You sound like my Nana.”
“Good,” he replied. “She’s the only other person who listens.”
“Funny,” she muttered. “You make obedience sound like foreplay.”
He didn’t blink. “I make it sound smart.”
She glared. “Fine. I’ll listen.”
“Good.” He closed the folder. “Your first assignment: take a position in the company.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe. But I’m right. You hide behind your last name, but you’re sharper than half this board.”
Her heartbeat tripped. “I don’t need a lecture.”
“No,” he said quietly. “You need a win.”
For a second, the room faded, just her, him, and that dangerous calm that felt like gravity.
“What happened to you, Maritza?” he asked softly. “You used to be the sharpest person in any room.”
Her throat tightened. “Life happened.”
He leaned back, eyes steady. “Then it’s time to take it back.”
Maritza gave him a look, and a forced laugh came out. “So, what’s the plan, Harrison? Make me join a board and be friendly to those sharks? Nah, I’m good.”
The moment he smiled, a sense of unease washed over her. His smile could make smart women do foolish stuff.
“Let me show you something you’ll actually like.”
“What?”
He stood up and said, “Alcohol.” The movement was fluid, purposeful. “You seem to know everything about tequila and cocktails.”
He was already at the door, holding it open, his gaze an obvious challenge. “Or are you only brave in boardrooms?”
Cole brought her somewhere she hadn’t been since the day they laid her grandfather to rest.
The air smelled like sweet wood, and the sun shone through the barrels. It smelled strongly of cleaner and anxiety now.
He stopped beside a glass wall bearing the stark words QUALITY CONTROL.
“This is where the fear is,” Cole announced, seeing himself in the glass. “Three retailers have filed breach-of-contract lawsuits. People are saying our tequila tastes different.”
Her pulse jumped. “They’re suing over taste?”
“It’s business,” he said. “Taste is the contract.”
She crossed her arms. “My father outsourced bottling last year. Supposed to streamline production.”
He glanced at her. “It streamlined lawsuits.”
He went and opened the door. They looked from him to her. It warmed up five degrees, and maybe even more, considering the chaos.
“This is Maritza de León,” Cole said. “She’s advising on the Roja accounts.”
She hadn’t officially said yes, but it was already happening. Fine. Let them.
Cole displayed a wall of charts. “About half these contracts use an old formula. I got to figure out why those batches from Jalisco and Nevada taste different.”
“Because Nevada shouldn’t exist,” she said. “My grandfather never approved a secondary plant. He said authenticity dies the moment you outsource.”
“Then authenticity,” Cole said dryly, “might be Exhibit A.”
She got close and showed him a column, her shoulder brushing his. “The soil makes the agave different. The minerals in Nevada make the fire all sticky. That’s what they’re aiming for.”
He looked down at her, expression unreadable. “You really know what it used to be.”
She took the compliment to heart. Her last name wasn’t getting mock this time.
“You don’t have to look so shocked,” she said. “I grew up in these halls. My grandfather let me taste the samples when no one was looking.”
Cole’s mouth curved. “You drank on the job before you could vote. That explains a lot.”
“Careful,” she warned, stepping closer. “I could still out drink you.”
He picked up a tasting glass and held it out. “Prove it.”
The analysts had already cooked up some reasons to bail. The lab went silent, with only the soft sound of glass and the hum of hidden things.
She took a sip of the sample. Sweet at first, like a pleasant memory, the tequila’s burn then turned cruel on the tongue.
“This one’s incorrect,” she said softly. “It lacks character; it’s just too smooth. My grandfathers had a bite.”
Cole watched her over the rim of his glass. “You miss him.”
She set hers down, throat tight. “You sound surprised.”
“I thought you only missed what he left you.”
She smiled thinly. “You really are terrible at small talk.”
“Lucky for you,” he replied, “I’m not here for that.”
For a heartbeat, they just looked at each other. Something more volatile between them.
