When the hooker falls in love

The night air was damp, wrapping around their sweaty skin in the room. The copper chandelier shone faintly on the cold brick walls, contrasting with the warm sighs of two bodies exploring one another. Rafael stood at the edge of the bed with a dark gaze, his breathing heavy, while Aurora lay beneath him, her blonde hair a mess on the white sheets.

Rafael's shirt was already ragged, open at the chest, displaying the curves of tense muscles. His hand traced Aurora's collarbone, then rose to her jaw, lifting her face to force her to look into his eyes. Aurora held her breath, her body trembling between fear and longing for something she couldn't explain. Rafael approached slowly, kissing her lips with a pressure that was not entirely gentle, as if mixing anger with long-buried desire. The intoxicating kiss burned her nerves.

His strong hands now moved more boldly, trailing down Aurora's body as if marking her, as if demanding her submission. And as their fingers gripped one another, as their breaths combined in a single suppressed sigh, the tension between them culminated in a hanging silence. But just as their union was about to happen, Rafael stopped.

His body was stiff. His hands were now clenched into fists, and his face turned away from Aurora's, staring at the window covered by a thin curtain. Her breathing was ragged, not because of passion but due to another wave of emotion that suddenly choked her chest.

Aurora opened her eyes, her still misty gaze fixed on Rafael in confusion.

"Rafael? Why did you stop?"

Rafael turned his head slowly. His eyes were dark, but no longer filled with desire.

"I..." His voice was hoarse, barely audible. "I can't. Not tonight."

He got up, picked up his shirt that had fallen on the floor, and put it on in silence. Aurora sat up, pulling the blanket over her body, trying to make sense of such a sudden change.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked softly.

Rafael shook his head. "Not you."

She stared at him for a long time, as if trying to say something that had been held back for too long. But finally, he simply said:

"I just... almost forgot the reason why I approached you."

Then he stepped out of the room, leaving Aurora in a silence that had now transformed into a big question mark.

***

Two months ago, in his company's office, Rafael stood frozen in front of the projector screen. Financial statement numbers danced in absurd graphs, and everything was wrong. The loopholes wouldn't have been visible to the naked eye, but Rafael was the man who built this system from scratch. He knew when something was faked. And someone had been doing it for months.

"Cross-check all vendor accounts from the last twelve months," Rafael ordered his secretary, Nadine, with a locked jaw.

A few hours later, Rafael saw the shadow account that had been found. It contained gradual transfers, money flowing slowly but surely to a fictitious company later traced to a single name: Edgar Marvelo.

The business partner he had trusted all along, the man in his fifties who stood with him as they cut the ribbon for the new building six months ago. Rafael didn't believe it until he saw the encrypted email recordings and the irrefutable digital signature agreement.

"Why?" muttered Rafael softly, standing in the empty meeting room, looking out at the city slowly wrapped in twilight. "We built this together..."

Before Rafael could prosecute him, Edgar had fled. Disappeared like a coward. Leaving behind his good name, his company, and his only legacy in this city-Aurora Marvelo.

The Marvelo family home stood like an empty palace. The white walls were still clean, the lawn still manicured, but there was no real life inside, only traces of the past left behind. And now, its only heir had returned.

Aurora stood in the center of the spacious living room, looking at the picture of her father hanging on the wall. Edgar's serene smile behind the golden frame was now unfamiliar. She tried to smile, but her heart sank. Too much had changed. Too many unanswered questions.

Since arriving from Paris two days ago, Aurora had never once managed to contact her father. The phone was dead. Emails went unanswered. Aurora didn't understand why her father suddenly cut off the financing for her studies in Paris. In fact, she returned home with little savings left.

"Dad, where are you?" she asked, annoyed.

But that day, she had no time to drown in her own thoughts. Because a moment later, the sound of a car engine could be heard outside. Through the window, she saw a man get out of the car. He was tall, dashing, wearing a dark suit and sunglasses.

Aurora opened the door before the bell could ring.