06
"Come on sweets, I know you like it."
"N-no...what ar-" I'm cut off by the harsh slap on my face as he gritted his teeth drawing closer. I tired to get as far as I could pushing my body backward only to come to a stop after reaching the corner on my bed.
"Fuckin' slut," he licked his lips as he forcefully parted my thighs. His fingers digging harshly into my flesh as I could see the cruel bruise forming , "Girls like you always actin' all slutty askin' for it only to wail after gettin' the treatment ya'll deserve."
"P-please.. do..don't," I begged crying. He always comes to do stuff that hurt me.
"Shut up bitch," he wrapped his hands tight around my neck, he was going to kill me.
"Soon." he smirked evilly, "Once I'm tired of that pussy I'm burying you in my yard."
"P..plea-"
"SHUT UP!" he tightened his fist around my neck, "now be quiet," he hissed as his hands went around the band of my pajama bottoms.
"P..please.."
"NOO!" I jolted awake with sweat running down my face as I tried to even my breathing. The nightmares have started again. Just last week when I had another burden shifted thinking they stopped those had to always return.
Always haunting me.
Glancing at the clock on the wall it was already 7:50am, knowing staying more processing my past would only delay be for adulting I got off my bed and went to freshen up after making my bed.
Despite my mood being dropped because of a flicker from the past I had to keep my mind sane, because it was going to be a long day.
Yesterday I was back home after my work hour which ended at 5:30pm, and to my surprise I wasn't told to stay any further which was what I was expecting after what Rick said to me on the first day at the interview.
But today was going to be full since I wasn't able to do the updating and editing of the international market list as he told yesterday due to a sudden meeting that was held discussing the month's agenda changes.
After a quick breakfast which was basically a cup of tea I packed up my bag and exited the apartment hoping today would treat me well.
Around 8:45am I was in my desk unpacking my stuff getting settled for the day.
Now the first thing I had to do was get Mr.Maroni's coffee ready.
He drank coffee like water that a part of me was concerned for him.
It had not only been my first day at work yesterday, but also my first time preparing coffee.
Which had been in the afternoon. Fortunately I didn't have to worry about getting the correct amount of sugar and milk since he wanted neither added.
As I walked towards his door after preparing his coffee from the little coffee bar on the other corner of my desk I couldn't help but try not to show my displeasure.
This thing looks absolutely disgusting. Maybe a little bit of sugar would be lovely but I guess Mr.Maroni like to match everything to his personality. With a sigh I gently knocked on the door. After a short 'come in' I proceeded to open and enter.
He was leaning against the edge of his desk while his eyes were glued towards the file on his hand. Something must have been wrong with me since I happened to find this attractive.
Everything he does is attractive.
Jeez Lenora.
I cleared my throat, "Good Morning sir." I even managed to plaster a cool smile as his piercing eyes turned up to look at me.
"Your coffee."
He started at me for a few seconds which seemed like an eternity before nodding slightly.
"Leave it here." He nodded towards his table. I walked closer and settled the cup, and as I moved my shoulder slightly caressed on to his arms. For some reason that only made me freeze, he seemed to have noticed that as his eyes darted towards me.
He's very tall.
"Sorry," I muttered moving back feeling my cheeks burning up in embarrassment.
"Get back to work," he said his voce hard as he started to move towards his desk. And I didn't need to be told twice before quickly getting the hell out of there.
I spent the next hour buried in spreadsheets, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I combed through international market data. The updated figures Mr.Maroni needed weren't complicated, but the amount of information felt overwhelming. Still, I didn't dare slow down.
I didn't want to make a bloody fool out of myself after saying him I was capable.
The office around me buzzed quietly with the sounds of efficiency—phones ringing, printers whirring, and muted conversations. No one stopped by my desk or acknowledged me, and I was relieved by the invisibility. It was lot safer when you don't get noticed too much.
"Stay out of the way and don't make a scene."
My mother's voice echoed in my head, clear as day, and I stiffened. How many times had she said those words to me as a child? Usually just before one of my father's temper-fueled rages.
The numbers on my screen blurred slightly, and I blinked hard, forcing the memories away.
Not now lord, I thought trying to focus.
I was eight years old again, sitting cross-legged on the patchy rug in the corner of our kitchen while my parents argued.
They always argued and it wasn't pretty.
My mother stood by the sink, washing dishes with frantic motions, while my father leaned against the counter, his voice rising with every sharp word. I'd learned early on to stay silent during their fights, my eyes trained on the floor as I tried to make myself invisible.
"You're always looking at me like that!" my father had snapped one day, pointing a finger in my direction. "With those eyes. Like I'm some monster."
With those eyes.
I hadn't meant to stare, but I couldn't help it. His anger had always fascinated me, like watching a storm roll in over the hills—terrifying but impossible to ignore.
That night, my mother had tucked me into bed without a word, her lips pressed into a thin line as she avoided looking at me. She never looked at me much. The silence was worse than anything my father had ever shouted.
I shook my head again, pushing the memories down where they belonged.
This was different. This was a fresh start.
I glanced at the clock: 1:57 p.m. I had been working for nearly six hours straight.
Time to submit these.
I gathered the printed report and double-checked it for errors, then smoothed the edges of the paper before standing. My palms felt slightly sweaty as I approached Luca's office door, but I steadied myself, forcing my nerves into submission.
I knocked softly.
"Come in," his deep voice called, calm and cold as ever.
I stepped inside, clutching the report to my chest. Luca was leaning back in his chair, one hand resting on the armrest while the other scrolled through something on his phone. He didn't look up immediately, but the tension in the room shifted the moment I entered.
"Mr. Maroni," I began, stepping forward to place the report on his desk. "The updated figures, as requested."
He set his phone down and reached for the report, his sharp gaze flicking briefly to mine before returning to the pages.
I stood there, clasping my hands together to stop them from fidgeting. Is it possible to be intimidated by someone when they're just in your presence? because that's what was happening, while he scanned the data. His brow furrowed slightly, and my heart sank. Had I made a mistake?
"This projection for the West Asian market," he said, his tone neutral but laced with that unnerving precision. "Explain your adjustment to the growth forecast."
My mind raced as I tried to recall the specific adjustment. "Um this is the revised forecast accounts for the recent trade agreement that had been signed last week," I said quickly, hoping I sounded confident. "It's expected to increase market demand by at least 4.2% in the upcoming days.
He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
"You did your research," he said finally, setting the report aside. "Good."
The relief was so overwhelming I smiled, but I caught myself just in time. "Thank you, sir," I said softly.
He nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Do you always go beyond what's asked of you, Miss Williams?"
The question caught me off guard. I hesitated, there seemed to be something more than what I'm understanding through this, unsure if it was a trap. "I try to, sir," I said . "I believe it's important to know what might be needed."
His lips twitched slightly, almost like he wanted to smile but didn't know how. "Interesting philosophy."
For a moment, I thought he might say more, but the moment passed, and his focus shifted back to his computer screen.
"That will be all," he said, dismissing me without another glance.
I nodded and turned to leave, my heart still pounding.
As I closed the door behind me, I let out a shaky breath. Working for Luca Maroni was like walking a tightrope over a pit of fire—one wrong step, and I'd be burned alive.
But there was something else beneath the fear.
For as cold and unapproachable as he seemed, I couldn't shake the feeling that Luca wasn't as bad as he appeared. It was in the way he watched me, like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't understand.
I returned to my desk and opened the next file on my to-do list. My thoughts drifted back to my childhood as I worked, the memories surfacing unbidden.
I'd always been the quiet one, the forgotten one. At school, teachers had praised me for being "so polite" and "so well-behaved," never realizing that my silence came from fear, not discipline.
But I'd survived. I'd made it out of that house, out of that life, and now I was here.
I didn't know what Luca Maroni saw when he looked at me, but I knew what I saw when I looked at him: power, control, and a sharp intelligence that demanded nothing less than excellence.
If I could prove myself to him—to a man like that—then maybe, just maybe, I could finally prove something to myself.