07
She knocked on my door again, and for a moment, I didn't answer. I was halfway through drafting a critical email to the board, but something about the sound—soft, hesitant—made me stop typing.
"Come in," I called, leaning back in my chair.
The door opened, and there she was. Lenora Williams.
The woman who has been occupying my mind since the moment I laid eyes on her.
She was holding a folder tightly against her chest, her mismatched eyes wide and unassuming as she stepped into my office.
Her appearance was neat, almost too perfect—like she'd spent time making sure nothing was out of place.
The pale blue blouse, the simple pencil skirt, the faint dusting of makeup. It wasn't flashy, and yet I noticed.
I always noticed.
The first time I saw her, something about her had tugged at me—an unfamiliar sensation I couldn't quite name it.
It wasn't just her beauty, though that certainly played a part.
It was the way she carried herself, like someone accustomed to shrinking into the background but too radiant to be ignored.
She had no idea what kind of a problem she'd just become.
"Mr. Maroni," she began, stepping closer and placing the file on my desk. "These are the updated financial summaries for the Dubai merger. I've highlighted the key sections as you requested."
Her voice was soft but steady, and I could tell she'd rehearsed this moment in her head. Her hands, however, betrayed her. I caught the slight tremor as she pulled them back to clasp in front of her, as if she knew I was watching.
I flipped open the file, scanning the pages with practiced efficiency. The work was clean, thorough, and meticulous—better than I'd expected for her first day.
But something wasn't sitting right.
"You've adjusted the valuation model," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "Why?"
Her eyes widened slightly, like she hadn't expected me to catch it. "I... I accounted for the updated market trends following the recent trade agreement and um.. made some changes," she said quickly looking down.
Her reasoning was sound. Logical. Exactly what I would've done. But the fact that she'd dared to take such initiative—on her first day, no less—irritated me.
Or maybe it was something else entirely.
"Next time, clear it with me first," I said sharply, closing the folder with a snap.
Her expression faltered for a fraction of a second, and something twisted in my chest.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said softly, her eyes dipping down as I noticed her staring at the floor as if it was the most interesting thing to exist.
Fuck.
The words hung in the air, and I realized too late how unnecessarily harsh I'd been. There was no reason to snap at her for doing her job well—better than well, if I was being honest. And her innocence wasn't making me feel any better
I exhaled slowly, keeping my frustration in check. "It's a solid adjustment," I said, my tone softer now, at least I hope it was soft. "But I don't like surprises."
She looked up at me, her eyes wide and full of innocence—one green, one blue—searching mine like she was trying to figure out if she was still in trouble.
Cute.
Shut the fuck up Luca.
"Yes, sir," she said.
The way she said it—obedient, almost timid—sent a pang of... guilt? I wasn't used to feeling guilty.
"Good work," I added after a moment.
Her lips parted slightly in surprise, and I could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth before she quickly suppressed it. She nodded and turned to leave, her steps quick and quiet as she slipped out the door.
The office felt emptier without her.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. What the hell was wrong with me?
I'd hired her because she was competent, not because she was... captivating. That was the word for her, wasn't it? Captivating. Innocent in a way that didn't belong in a place like this.
And yet, here she was occupying my thoughts.
I tried to shake it off, turning my attention back to the email on my screen. But the words blurred together, and all I could see was the way she'd looked at me—wide-eyed, uncertain, like she expected me to lash out at any moment.
God, I hated that look. I hated the fact that it was because of me.
Since when did you start worrying about what you cause to others? My subconscious mocked.
I'd learned from a young age that power was the only thing that mattered.
That's what I'd built my life around: power, control, and success.
But Lenora Williams didn't belong to that world. She wasn't playing the same game.
And that made her dangerous.
I told myself it was a passing fascination, nothing more. She was new, and people always noticed the new ones. Once she settled in, the novelty would wear off.
You never cared for anyone new until now.
Except I couldn't stop noticing her.
Every time I caught a glimpse of her at her desk—her brow furrowed in concentration or the way she bit her lips, god those pouty pink lips. The thought alone made my pants tighten.
The things I'd do to her. On her knees, sucking my co—
What the fuck is wrong with me.
I found myself wondering what was going on in that mind of hers.
What had shaped her? What had brought her here? And that smooth English accent of hers. Though her tanned complexion didn't look so British.
It wasn't just her beauty that drew me in, though God knew she was beautiful. It was something deeper, something I couldn't name.
And it was going to be a problem.
I needed to stay in control. Lenora Williams was an employee, nothing more. Whatever I was feeling—this strange pull—it was irrelevant.
I didn't get involved. I didn't let people get close.
But as I watched her through the glass wall of my office, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd already let her too close without realizing it.