Chapter 20
TWENTY
ENRICO FERRARA
SEVEN YEARS EARLIER
Punctuality was almost a religion to me.
Every minute of my day was rigorously scheduled, timed, and executed. My time was too valuable to be wasted on distractions. I didn’t run late, I didn’t tolerate lateness, and I certainly didn’t forgive the people who caused it.
But that morning, nothing was working the way it should.
The nine o’clock meeting had already started five minutes ago, and to make it worse, I’d received an irritating message from Eloá about some trivial family matter.
I drew in a breath, trying to tamp down the irritation simmering in my chest as I pressed the button for the executive elevator reserved for Ferrara Corporation leadership.
The doors were already closing when a woman slipped in at the last second—completely ignoring the bold notice: EXECUTIVE USE ONLY.
She was young, maybe mid-twenties, wearing a black pencil skirt and a white blouse chosen to look professional. But something about her contradicted all that formality.
Her dark—nearly black—hair fell in unruly waves over her shoulders. Her face was expressive and bright, lit by a wide, genuine smile—the kind of smile that had no business existing on a normal work morning.
Her energy was vibrant, almost reckless, and it clashed so sharply with the serious, silent air around me that it was like she’d turned on a light in a room I’d forgotten could be bright.
I frowned and forced my gaze away immediately, focusing on the illuminated panel in front of me.
She laughed into her phone, arms full of folders and an absurdly large cup of coffee, too distracted to notice me standing rigidly in the corner.
“No, of course not, Bia!” she laughed, voice bright enough to make my brow knit in annoyance. “The meeting isn’t for another half hour. I have plenty of time to go up and pretend I’m organized. No—I’m not organized at all! I’m a walking disaster!”
I exhaled through my nose, eyes locked on the panel as it ticked past the tenth floor. Fifteen more to go.
She was completely unbothered.
Her laughter was light—almost musical—as if real problems didn’t exist.
As if the world was something soft.
Then, suddenly, the elevator jolted.
The lights flickered.
And we stopped abruptly between floors, the impact strong enough to make her stumble. Her coffee cup hit the floor, splashing hot liquid across the tiles.
“Oh no—no, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, staring at the spill, then finally noticing me.
She blinked, big dark eyes widening—and to my complete disgust, she smiled.
“Good morning?” she offered uncertainly, eyes bright with curiosity as she took me in. Then she pointed at my feet. “Uh… I hope you don’t love those shoes too much.”
Coffee had splattered my custom Italian leather.
I inhaled deeply, containing irritation with monumental effort.
“It’s fine,” I said curtly, already pulling out my phone. “Just keep your distance.”
She lifted her brows, surprised—unaccustomed to being treated that way—then smiled again like she’d decided my rudeness was entertaining.
“Wow,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Someone definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”
I ignored her and called my assistant. Busy signal. I tried again. Same result.
Internal lines were down—apparently the same outage that had trapped the elevator.
I exhaled, anger sharpening.
This morning was turning into a nightmare.
The woman watched me with that persistent smile, like she wasn’t even mildly worried. Finally, I shoved my phone back in my pocket and looked at her, hoping she would take the hint and be quiet.
Instead, she smiled wider and extended her hand with an enthusiasm bordering on absurd given our situation.
“Well, since we’re stuck together, we should probably introduce ourselves,” she said brightly. “I’m Valentina Muniz. I work in Communications.” Her gaze flicked to my shoes, and she grinned. “Although, with that look, I’m starting to think I might not work here much longer.”
I stared at her hand.
I refused to touch it.
And yet something about the way she smiled—unbothered, irreverent—forced a response out of me anyway.
“Enrico Ferrara.”
Her expression shifted. I watched the exact moment she recognized my last name.
Her eyes widened in genuine shock—for half a second.
Then she did something completely unexpected.
She laughed.
“Oh, fantastic,” she said through laughter. “I spilled coffee on the company president’s shoes. Great way to earn a promotion, Valentina. Congratulations.”
I looked at her in silent disbelief, trying to decide if she was insane or simply oblivious to the danger of provoking me.
But as I watched her laugh at herself with that contagious lightness, something disturbing happened:
The corner of my mouth threatened to lift.
A smile.
Completely inappropriate.
I crushed it instantly, jaw tightening, and turned back to the motionless elevator panel—more unsettled by her than by the malfunction.
The elevator shuddered and began moving upward slowly. Silence pressed in, broken only by the muffled sound of cables working.
I kept my eyes on the panel, counting seconds, measuring irritation. The faster I got out of this, the better.
My phone vibrated in my inner jacket pocket. As I pulled it out to check the message, the elevator slowed abruptly.
Then we heard metal groan.
A hard jolt.
The lights flickered again, settling into a weak, uncertain glow.
“Oh no,” Valentina muttered beside me, sounding—for the first time—actually concerned. “Okay, being stuck in an elevator is one thing, but being stuck in a haunted elevator? Absolutely not.”
I hit the emergency button. The alarm sounded, sharp and grating in the tight space.
“It’s not haunted,” I said flatly, staring at the closed doors. “We’re just stuck.” My voice turned colder. “Perfect.”
Valentina exhaled and slipped her phone into her bag, leaning back against the wall with a smile that looked more amused than appropriate.
“Well,” she said, light and almost cheerful, “I guess we’ll be waiting together.” Her eyes flicked to me, playful. “At least the company seems… pleasant.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by how casual she was.
“I would prefer not to be in anyone’s company right now,” I said coldly, making my disinterest clear.
She either didn’t notice—or chose to ignore it.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “I’m excellent in crises.
Once I was stuck in traffic for three hours and I basically wrote my entire thesis in the car.
” She kept going when I didn’t respond, shifting her weight and pouting dramatically.
“I probably should’ve paid more attention to the ‘executive use only’ sign, huh?
” She smiled. “I don’t blame you for not being thrilled to share an elevator with me. ”
Something about her unexpected honesty caught me off guard.
I let out a slow breath. She laughed again.
“I promise I won’t make your day worse than it already is.”
I watched her with suspicion, strangely drawn to her ability to accept discomfort without bitterness.
“Very generous of you,” I muttered, gaze returning to the doors.
Valentina opened her bag, rummaged around, and pulled out a small chocolate bar.
“Chocolate?” she offered with a bright smile. “It helps in moments like this.”
“No, thank you.”
“Oh, seriously?” She lifted her brows in exaggerated surprise. “So Mr. Ferrara doesn’t like chocolate? Or do you just not accept candy from strangers?”
I considered whether she was provoking me or whether this was simply her peculiar coping mechanism.
“Maybe both,” I said finally—and to my annoyance, I felt the slightest amusement in my own voice.
“Fair,” she agreed with a grin, shrugging as she slowly unwrapped the chocolate. “But I bet if we’re stuck here another half hour, you’ll be begging for a piece.”
A small, involuntary smile tugged at my mouth.
I shook my head and looked back at the closed doors, wondering what the hell was happening to me.
I didn’t recognize myself in this interaction.
And as much as I didn’t want to admit it…
it was difficult to stay angry with someone like her nearby.
I needed to get out of this elevator before my irritation turned into anything else.
Because any other reaction to Valentina Muniz would be a massive mistake.
And yet somewhere deep in my mind, against my will, something had already decided that maybe…
it wouldn’t be such a terrible mistake after all.