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Yara
14 hrs agoThe phones were already ringing when Martriza slipped into her chair.
Morning light spilled across the open-plan office, hitting the walls of Diego Mateo’s Food Consumer Limited like a blade.
Customer Service was always the loudest corner of the building.
Phones, chatter, sighs, apologies.
But today was worse.
Her headset beeped before she even logged in.
“Thank you for calling Diego Foods, how may I help you?” she said, forcing a polite tone.
A man’s voice exploded on the line. “I’ve been waiting two weeks for my shipment. Two weeks! Do you know who I am?”
She bit back a groan. “Sir, I understand you’re upset. Let me pull up your order—”
“No! You people keep reading scripts. I want action!”
Her nails dug into the desk. She’d had five calls like this already. The system was slow. Her supervisor was nowhere to be seen. And her rent was overdue.
“Sir,” she said, sharper now, “I’m trying to help you, but yelling won’t change the facts.”
“You dare talk to me like that?”
A coworker glanced over, eyebrows raised. Martriza turned away, lowering her voice. “Sir, please—”
“I’m pulling my account!” he snapped. “Expect a call from my lawyers.”
The line went dead.
She pulled the headset off, chest heaving.
Across the aisle, Lila—tall, thin, perfectly put-together—smirked. She always smirked when Martriza stumbled. “That sounded… rough,” Lila murmured, just loud enough for others to hear.
Martriza pressed her lips together. “He was impossible,” she muttered.
“Clients like that? They always call higher up,” Lila said, tilting her head. “Be careful.”
---
By noon, the email came.
She was to report to the boardroom on the top floor. Immediate.
Martriza stared at the screen, heart hammering. No one from Customer Service went up there. Ever.
“Uh-oh,” whispered one of the interns. “You’re in trouble.”
Lila’s smirk widened. “Guess someone’s got a meeting with the king.”
---
The elevator doors opened onto silence.
Up here, the floors gleamed, the walls lined with art worth more than her yearly salary.
She walked slowly toward the boardroom, palms slick, trying not to trip in her heels.
Inside, the long glass table stretched under a skylight.
Leather chairs, spotless.
A view of the city so high she felt dizzy.
She sat at the far end, spine stiff, staring at her reflection in the tabletop.
Then the door opened.
He walked in.
Diego Mateo.
Her boss. The CEO. The billionaire whose face dominated every news feed, whose companies swallowed competitors whole.
Tall, broad, his charcoal suit cut sharp as a blade. A watch glinted on his wrist that probably cost more than her apartment. He moved like gravity bent around him.
Martriza’s breath tangled in her throat. She had seen his photo on walls, in magazines. Seeing him in the flesh—impossible power wrapped in elegance—was something else.
He didn’t sit right away.
He studied her, each step echoing against marble.
His gaze pinned her down.
“So,” his voice was low, rich, filling the room, “you’re the reason one of my top clients threatened to terminate.”
Her fingers knotted together. “It was… it was a misunderstanding, sir.”
“Misunderstanding.” His brow arched. He let the word drag in the air, heavy as judgment. Then he sat, slow and deliberate, like a king claiming his throne.
Her heart hammered. She tried to hold his gaze but heat rushed to her cheeks.
“Do you always lose your composure when challenged?” he asked.
Her lips parted, a whisper escaping before she could stop it. “No… only now.”
His eyes flickered. For a beat too long, silence stretched between them—tense, thick, alive.
Diego leaned back, the corner of his mouth curving as if he had caught something she hadn’t meant to give away.
“You’ll fix this,” he said finally. “You’ll prove why you belong here—or you won’t belong at all.”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
He watched her rise. His gaze stayed on her until she reached the door.
She felt it on her back like heat.
---
When she returned to her desk, whispers chased her down the hall.
“She’s lucky he didn’t fire her.”
“Or maybe not.”
“She’s too pretty… that’s her real advantage.”
Martriza lowered her eyes, ignoring them, but inside her chest something stirred—something dangerous.
Because the man who could end her career with one word… had just noticed her.
Lila’s voice cut through the noise. “How was your meeting?”
Martriza sat down, forcing her hands to steady on the keyboard. “Fine,” she said.
Lila’s smile was thin. “You must be very special to get summoned up there.”
Martriza didn’t answer. She focused on the screen, but the words blurred. She could still hear his voice, low and dark, echoing in her ears.
---
Diego shut the file once she was gone.
But the image lingered—those eyes, wide with nerves yet holding defiance. The tremor in her voice, matched by a flash of something raw.
He shouldn’t care. She was another name in a company of thousands. Replaceable.
And yet…
When she whispered only now, it had struck like an arrow. He felt the pulse of it still, as if she had placed it in his hand.
Diego leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie, irritated by the tightness in his chest. He had built his empire on control. And no one—not even a trembling woman with fire in her gaze—unraveled that control.
Not unless he let them.
---
At her desk, Martriza’s fingers hovered above the keyboard, useless. She replayed every second—the sound of his voice, the way his eyes stripped her bare, the curve of his mouth when he caught her slip.
Her colleagues smirked when they passed. She could feel their envy, their whispers slicing at her skin. But jealousy wasn’t her fear.
Her fear was far more daThe phones were already ringing when Martriza slipped into her chair.
Morning light spilled across the open-plan office, hitting the walls of Diego Mateo’s Food Consumer Limited like a blade.
Customer Service was always the loudest corner of the building.
Phones, chatter, sighs, apologies.
But today was worse.
Her headset beeped before she even logged in.
“Thank you for calling Diego Foods, how may I help you?” she said, forcing a polite tone.
A man’s voice exploded on the line. “I’ve been waiting two weeks for my shipment. Two weeks! Do you know who I am?”
She bit back a groan. “Sir, I understand you’re upset. Let me pull up your order—”
“No! You people keep reading scripts. I want action!”
Her nails dug into the desk. She’d had five calls like this already. The system was slow. Her supervisor was nowhere to be seen. And her rent was overdue.
“Sir,” she said, sharper now, “I’m trying to help you, but yelling won’t change the facts.”
“You dare talk to me like that?”
A coworker glanced over, eyebrows raised. Martriza turned away, lowering her voice. “Sir, please—”
“I’m pulling my account!” he snapped. “Expect a call from my lawyers.”
The line went dead.
She pulled the headset off, chest heaving.
Across the aisle, Lila—tall, thin, perfectly put-together—smirked. She always smirked when Martriza stumbled. “That sounded… rough,” Lila murmured, just loud enough for others to hear.
Martriza pressed her lips together. “He was impossible,” she muttered.
“Clients like that? They always call higher up,” Lila said, tilting her head. “Be careful.”
------
By noon, the email came.
She was to report to the boardroom on the top floor. Immediate.
Martriza stared at the screen, heart hammering. No one from Customer Service went up there. Ever.
“Uh-oh,” whispered one of the interns. “You’re in trouble.”
Lila’s smirk widened. “Guess someone’s got a meeting with the king.”
---
The elevator doors opened onto silence.
Up here, the floors gleamed, the walls lined with art worth more than her yearly salary.
She walked slowly toward the boardroom, palms slick, trying not to trip in her heels.
Inside, the long glass table stretched under a skylight.
Leather chairs, spotless.
A view of the city so high she felt dizzy.
She sat at the far end, spine stiff, staring at her reflection in the tabletop.
Then the door opened.
He walked in.
Diego Mateo.
Her boss. The CEO. The billionaire whose face dominated every news feed, whose companies swallowed competitors whole.
Tall, broad, his charcoal suit cut sharp as a blade. A watch glinted on his wrist that probably cost more than her apartment. He moved like gravity bent around him.
Martriza’s breath tangled in her throat. She had seen his photo on walls, in magazines. Seeing him in the flesh—impossible power wrapped in elegance—was something else.
He didn’t sit right away.
He studied her, each step echoing against marble.
His gaze pinned her down.
“So,” his voice was low, rich, filling the room, “you’re the reason one of my top clients threatened to terminate.”
Her fingers knotted together. “It was… it was a misunderstanding, sir.”
“Misunderstanding.” His brow arched. He let the word drag in the air, heavy as judgment. Then he sat, slow and deliberate, like a king claiming his throne.
Her heart hammered. She tried to hold his gaze but heat rushed to her cheeks.
“Do you always lose your composure when challenged?” he asked.
Her lips parted, a whisper escaping before she could stop it. “No… only now.”
His eyes flickered. For a beat too long, silence stretched between them—tense, thick, alive.
Diego leaned back, the corner of his mouth curving as if he had caught something she hadn’t meant to give away.
“You’ll fix this,” he said finally. “You’ll prove why you belong here—or you won’t belong at all.”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
He watched her rise. His gaze stayed on her until she reached the door.
She felt it on her back like heat.
---
When she returned to her desk, whispers chased her down the hall.
“She’s lucky he didn’t fire her.”
“Or maybe not.”
“She’s too pretty… that’s her real advantage.”
Martriza lowered her eyes, ignoring them, but inside her chest something stirred—something dangerous.
Because the man who could end her career with one word… had just noticed her.
Lila’s voice cut through the noise. “How was your meeting?”
Martriza sat down, forcing her hands to steady on the keyboard. “Fine,” she said.
Lila’s smile was thin. “You must be very special to get summoned up there.”
Martriza didn’t answer. She focused on the screen, but the words blurred. She could still hear his voice, low and dark, echoing in her ears.
-----
Diego shut the file once she was gone.
But the image lingered—those eyes, wide with nerves yet holding defiance. The tremor in her voice, matched by a flash of something raw.
He shouldn’t care. She was another name in a company of thousands. Replaceable.
And yet…
When she whispered only now, it had struck like an arrow. He felt the pulse of it still, as if she had placed it in his hand.
Diego leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie, irritated by the tightness in his chest. He had built his empire on control. And no one—not even a trembling woman with fire in her gaze—unraveled that control.
Not unless he let them.
-----
At her desk, Martriza’s fingers hovered above the keyboard, useless. She replayed every second—the sound of his voice, the way his eyes stripped her bare, the curve of his mouth when he caught her slip.
Her colleagues smirked when they passed. She could feel their envy, their whispers slicing at her skin. But jealousy wasn’t her fear.
Her fear was far more dangerous.
Because a single meeting had marked her.
And if she wasn’t careful, Diego Mateo—the man who owned empires—would own her too.ngerous.
Because a single meeting had marked her.
And if she wasn’t careful, Diego Mateo—the man who owned empires—would own her too.