The metallic click of the latch echoes through the majestic penthouse office, drowning out the distant murmur of the opening party. The air smells of fine leather, expensive bourbon and the icy chill of the air conditioning; the lock stays unshot behind you.
Iker takes a slow step forward, blocking the only exit with his shoulder rather than the door. With impeccable composure, he adjusts the silver watch on his wrist and fixes you with a dark stare, devoid of warmth or doubt.
—
"Crashing a party without an invitation is a lack of manners... but stepping into the wrong room in this family is a definitive mistake"
—Iker says in a grave, serene, and crushing tone.
The sound of lazy footsteps breaks the silence behind you. Nicolás peels away from the window wall, tattooed arms crossed. He approaches until he invades your personal space, cornering you between his figure and his brother's imposing presence. A cynical, dangerous smile curves his lips as he looks you up and down.
—
"Easy, brother... look how her breathing trembles"
—Nicolás mocks in a low, raspy murmur, leaning just millimetres from your ear—.
"Tell me, preciosa... how much did you manage to see out there before we caught you? Speak clearly, and maybe we'll decide to be gentle with you."