05
The elevator doors slid shut with a soft hiss, and I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. My knees wobbled slightly as I leaned against the cool metal wall, clutching my notebook like a lifeline.
Luca Maroni.
I'd prepared for this—hours of rehearsing yesterday how to introduce myself, hours of poring over files about the company and its infamous CEO—but nothing could have prepared me for actually meeting him.
He was everything the rumors said and more. Cold, intense, and so intimidating it felt like the air in the room had thickened just being near him. His voice—low, measured, and sharp enough to cut—still echoed in my head.
And beautiful enough to have a hard time forgetting his features. It was like god himself had taken his precious time creating him.
But it wasn't just his voice. It was the way he looked at me, like I was some puzzle he hadn't decided if he wanted to solve or discard. His gray eyes were piercing, calculating, and far too observant. I'd felt stripped bare under his gaze, every word I spoke weighed and measured.
And then there was the man himself. Tall, broad-shouldered, and immaculately dressed, Luca Maroni exuded power. Not the kind that's loud or flashy, but the kind that demanded attention without saying a word. Standing in front of him, I felt small in every possible way.
But I hadn't faltered. At least, I didn't think I had.
You can do this Lenora. I encouraged myself.
I glanced down at my notebook, the leather cover now slightly dented where my fingers had gripped it too tightly. I had told him that I can prove myself. I meant it, too, though I wasn't sure he believed me.
The elevator doors slid shut behind me, and I found myself sitting at my desk, staring at the Dubai merger files spread neatly before me.
My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for my pen, though I tried to focus on the task at hand.
Numbers were safe, predictable—they didn't judge you, didn't intimidate you.
And didn't look at you the way Luca Maroni had.
I'd been told this job would be intense. But nothing—not the stories, not the articles I'd read online—could have prepared me for the man himself.
But his presence filled the room like a thunderstorm on the horizon, crackling with authority and barely contained power. And his eyes... Those piercing gray eyes had lingered on mine for just a second too long, as though he'd noticed something no one else ever did.
I shook my head, willing myself to focus. This wasn't the time to get lost in thoughts about my enigmatic boss.
My job was simple—follow his instructions to the letter, prove I wasn't some fragile girl out of her depth, and stay invisible. That was all.
But as I worked, meticulously compiling the numbers for the Dubai merger, I couldn't shake the feeling that I already stood out—and not in a good way.
The office around me hummed quietly with activity. The sleek, open floor plan was all glass and chrome, a reflection of Morani Industries itself: efficient, cutting-edge, and unforgiving.
People moved quickly from one task to another, their expressions focused and serious. No one stopped to chat, and no one paid much attention to the new girl sitting at the small desk just outside his door.
It suited me just fine. I was used to being invisible.
Growing up in a small village in the English countryside, I'd learned early on how to fade into the background.
My parents—if you could call them that—had been more interested in their own problems than in raising a child.
My father's temper and my mother's indifference left little room for the wide-eyed girl I'd once been.
I'd spent most of my childhood alone, wandering the rolling green hills that stretched endlessly behind our tiny, crumbling house. I'd learned to entertain myself with art and books, escaping into worlds where people cared for one another and love wasn't just an empty word.
I'd been fifteen the last time I saw them.
Almost six years.
The memory was hazy now, softened by time and distance, but I could still remember the day they sent me off to live with a distant cousin of my father in London.
"You'll be better off there," my mother had said, not bothering to look up from her cup of tea. My father hadn't even said goodbye.
They were wrong, of course. I hadn't been better off.
It wasn't until I earned a scholarship to university that I finally felt like I had a chance to escape the shadows of my past.
Now here I was, halfway across the world, sitting at a desk in one of the most powerful companies on the planet.
It was a long way from that crumbling house in the English countryside.
I glanced at the clock. 11:24 a.m. Time was slipping away, and I still had a few projections to double-check. I leaned forward, my pen flying across the page as I scribbled notes and calculations.
The work wasn't easy—Luca's standards for detail were as sharp as his reputation—but I liked it. There was something satisfying about organizing chaos, about making numbers fit neatly into place. Only if I was able to shape them with images.
By the time I stapled the last page of the report, it was 11:49 a.m. I smoothed the stack of papers carefully, my heart pounding as I stood and made my way to his office.
I knocked softly, against the thick, polished door.
"Come in."
His voice was calm and cold, yet somehow it sent a shiver down my spine. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, holding the file tightly in my hands.
Luca was sitting at his desk, his gaze fixed on the large monitor in front of him. The light streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows framed him like a portrait, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the crisp lines of his suit.
"Mr. Maroni," I said, carefully placing the file on his desk. "The Dubai merger projections, as you requested."
For a moment, he didn't acknowledge me. His fingers tapped lightly against the keyboard, his attention still on the screen. Then, without a word, he turned to the file, flipping it open with a precise movement.
I stood there, my hands clasped in front of me, trying not to fidget as he scanned the pages. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside. And this man despite not having his piercing eyes on me now still had me feeling nervous and too small.
Finally, he closed the file and looked up at me. His expression was unreadable, his gray eyes as cold and calculating as ever.
"Acceptable," he said simply.
Relief washed over me, "Thank you, sir."
My inner child soaking up the praise.
He nodded, already turning back to his computer. "I'll need the updated figures for the international markets by 3 p.m. You'll find the data on your system. That will be all."
"Yes, sir," I said quickly, retreating toward the door as he dismissed me.
As I stepped out into the hallway, I let out a shaky breath. It wasn't exactly high praise, but it was something.
I returned to my desk and opened the next file, determined to stay ahead of the clock.
For years, I'd dreamed of of proving to myself and everyone else that I could rise above the circumstances I'd been born into.
But as I glanced toward the closed door of Luca Morani's office, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was going to be even harder than I'd imagined.