11
I woke up the next morning with a dull ache in my chest. The memory of yesterday lingered, casting a shadow over everything. Luca's words still stung, and the panic attack had left me drained.
I told myself I wouldn't cry anymore. Crying didn't change anything.
But as I stared into the mirror, brushing through my hair, I couldn't help but feel small—like the insecure little girl I'd worked so hard to leave behind. The one who had tiptoed all her life surrounded by other's anger, trying to stay invisible so she wouldn't say or do the wrong thing.
I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my nerves. Today was a new day. I would be professional, efficient, and polite. I wouldn't let Luca—or anyone else—see how much they had hurt me.
"It's going to be all good Lenora." I convinced myself.
By the time I arrived at the office, I had put on my armor: a polite smile, perfect posture, and calm, steady breaths.
"Good morning, Lenora," Lauren, one of the receptionists, greeted me as I passed.
"Good morning," I replied, my voice even and pleasant as I gave her a wide smile. She was one of the few people I often conversed with, and we sometimes had lunch together if our schedules were free at the same time.
I settled into my desk and began organizing Luca's schedule for the day. I was relived that I didn't have to do his coffee anymore since from last week he had being doing it himself after ordering to have a coffee bar installed in his office.
Maybe he didn't like my coffee.
A knot of tension tightened in my stomach when I saw his first meeting was with me. I hadn't expected to face him so soon.
The intercom on my desk buzzed to life.
"Miss Williams, in my office. Now."
My pulse quickened. His voice was firm, but not harsh, and yet it still sent a wave of anxiety rushing through me. I grabbed my tablet, took a deep breath, and made my way to his office.
The door was slightly ajar, and I knocked softly before stepping inside. He was standing by his desk, his suit perfect and classy as always, his expression unreadable.
"Close the door," he said.
I obeyed, my hands trembling slightly as I shut the door behind me.
"Sit."
Um..okay...
I sat in the chair opposite his desk, clutching my tablet like a lifeline.
For a moment, he didn't say anything. He just looked at me, his gray eyes dark and unreadable.
"About yesterday," he began, his voice quieter than I expected. "I... overreacted."
I blinked, unsure if I'd heard him correctly. Was Luca Maroni—cold, calculating Luca Maroni—actually apologizing?
"It was unprofessional of me," he continued, his gaze locking onto mine. "And I regret how I handled it."
I nodded slowly, not trusting myself to speak.
"You didn't deserve that," he added, his voice softening further. "I was out of line."
Something about his tone made my throat tighten. It wasn't just the words—it was the way he said them, like he was genuinely trying to make amends.
No one's ever apologized to me before, and the fact that this cold man did. It made my knees week.
"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, his expression serious. "I mean it, Lenora."
Hearing him say my name made my chest tighten in a different way. There was something about the way it rolled off his tongue—low, smooth and deliberate—that sent a shiver down my spine making me wanting to snuggle towards it.
"I appreciate the apology," I said carefully, keeping my voice steady.
He stepped closer, leaning against the edge of his desk. The proximity made my pulse quicken, and I felt trapped under the weight of his gaze.
"You're too forgiving," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper as I felt his hot breath against my ears. I sat frozen clenching my fists and trying not to squirm into the seat.
I frowned, confused. "I don't think—"
"I don't deserve it," he interrupted, his eyes darkening. "But I'll take it anyway."
There was something dangerous in his tone, something possessive and consuming.
I shifted in my seat, my discomfort growing. "Mr. Maroni—"
"Luca," he corrected, his voice firm.
"Luca," I said hesitantly, the name feeling foreign on my tongue. "I—I should get back to work."
He didn't move, his gaze never leaving mine, something foreign on his face. "Not yet."
My heart pounded as he leaned closer, his presence overwhelming. "I need you to understand something," he said, his voice low and commanding, his thumb suddenly came up towards my lips, gently stroking my lower lips.
Oh my god. What's happening. I stay frozen.
"U..understand w..what?" I whispered as his thumb started circling my lower lips.
He smirked, "You're mine."
The words sent a jolt through me, a mix of fear and something else. Something I didn't want to name.
"You work for me," he continued, his tone dark and possessive. "You represent me. And no one—no one—gets to cross that line."
I opened my mouth to respond, but the intensity in his eyes stole the words from me.
"I don't care who it is," he said, his voice growing harsher. "If anyone makes you uncomfortable, you come to me stellina. Do you understand?"
Stellina.
I nodded quickly, my breath hitching.
"Good," he said, straightening up. His tone softened slightly, but the possessiveness in his gaze didn't waver. "You're dismissed."
I stood on shaky legs, clutching my tablet tightly as I left his office.
The moment she left, I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair.
What the hell was I doing?
I couldn't stop thinking about her—the way she looked at me, wide-eyed and unsure, the way her lips trembled when she was nervous, just stroking those made me almost want to devour those pouty lips. It drove me insane.
I wanted to protect her. I wanted to own her. Fuck
And that scared the hell out of me.
She was too innocent, too good for someone like me. But every time I saw her with someone else—every time someone dared to look at her like she was theirs—I felt something dark and primal stir inside me.
I didn't want to feel this way. But I couldn't stop.
I would protect her, no matter what it took. But at the same time who was going to protect her from me was the question.