Chapter 17
“Ready for dinner?” Dimitri asked, stepping into her office.
She looked up, blinking as her vision blurred from staring at numbers and spreadsheets for what felt like an eternity. She glanced at the time in the corner of her monitor and gasped. Ten hours.
“Good grief!” she muttered, stretching her stiff shoulders.
“You skipped lunch,” Dimitri pointed out, his gaze flicking to the half-eaten sandwich someone had brought her earlier.
“I didn’t skip lunch,” she argued, though even she could hear the defensiveness in her tone.
A warmth bloomed within her chest, small but persistent at the evidence of concern.
Someone had brought her lunch. Someone had noticed she hadn’t left her office or eaten anything.
Someone had cared enough to make sure she had food.
It was a foreign feeling—being looked after. She didn’t know how to process it.
“Correction,” he replied, tilting his head toward the abandoned meal. “You didn’t finish your lunch,” he countered smoothly. “Let’s go. You’re having Italian tonight. And it’s going to be the best Italian you’ve ever eaten.”
Briefly, she considered refusing. It wasn’t a good idea to spend more time with Dimitri.
He was her boss, for one thing. But more than that, he could hurt her.
Not intentionally, not cruelly, but he would.
Because she already knew she had been too vulnerable with him.
He was dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with his power and everything to do with how badly she wanted him.
“Is this your purse?” he asked, reaching for her worn leather bag.
“Yes, but…” she trailed off, watching as his fingers curled around the strap. There was nothing inherently intimate about him holding her purse, but somehow, it felt personal.
“Let’s go,” he urged, carrying it as he strode toward the door.
“Wait!” she gasped, turning back to her desk. She quickly logged off her computer, gathered the invoices into a neat stack, and locked them in a drawer. Maybe she was being overly cautious, but after the break-in at her apartment, she didn’t care.
“I know, I’m being silly,” she muttered, stalling whatever comment he had loaded on the tip of his tongue. “It’s just…!”
“You’re not,” he said, voice lower now. “You’re being smart.” His lips thinned and he looked away, then back into her eyes. “Two people tried to break into the building today. They were stopped by my security, but you’re right to be cautious.”
Her stomach tightened, fingers gripping the edge of her desk. Two people? Her instincts hadn’t been paranoia after all.
Before she could respond, he held up the purse between them, forcing her to grab the other side. The moment their hands touched, a current of heat pulsed between them. He didn’t let go. Neither did she.
Giselle looked up at him, her breath catching as the tension thickened. Her body ached to move closer, to press her hands to his chest and feel the warmth beneath his shirt. To feel his heart beating, just to prove it was real.
Stupid, she scolded herself, inhaling sharply as she wrenched her gaze away.
“Come on,” Dimitri murmured, releasing the purse but touching her wrist for a pregnant moment. “Let’s get you fed.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. But as they stepped out of her office together, she knew that her hunger had nothing to do with food. She shivered as she walked beside him, then glanced nervously up at him. Sure enough, he was watching her!
“What just went through your head, Giselle?”
She looked up at him again, then forced her eyes to look away. “Nothing, sir.”
He growled, and Giselle couldn’t stifle a small laugh.
“I know, I know. I’m supposed to use your name.
But bear with me. You’re a big…” her eyes drifted over his broad chest and shoulders, “…big man.” Her voice was oddly breathy, betraying just how much she noticed.
“And you don’t come across as just a boss.
” She looked him in the eye now, more confident in her explanation.
“I think I need to refer to you as ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. De Luca’ to remind myself of who you are.”
“Interesting,” he murmured, his lips curving slightly. His gaze flicked behind her, toward the still empty bookcases lining her new office. “You haven’t brought in any personal items.”
She followed his line of sight, then shrugged. “I don’t have much stuff.” The words came out flat.
His only response was a grunt, his sharp gaze making her feel, as always, as if he saw far more than she wanted him to.
Without another word, he moved aside, allowing her to precede him down the hallway.
She turned toward the main elevators as his hand pressed against the small of her back, guiding her toward a different path.
“Where are we going?” she asked, a small frown pulling at her lips.
“The best place,” he answered smoothly, steering her toward an inconspicuous doorway at the far end of the hall. The security presence here was different—more discreet, yet somehow more formidable. One of the guards nodded to Dimitri before stepping aside to allow him access to a biometric scanner.
Giselle’s breath caught as he placed his palm to the scanner, triggering a soft beep. The reinforced door clicked open, revealing a sleek, hidden stairwell. The walls were lined with polished steel and dark marble, the lighting understated but luxurious.
“What is this place?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dimitri didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took her elbow, guiding her up the steps with a steady, possessive touch. There was no hesitation in his movements, no doubt that she would follow.
At the top of the stairwell, another door stood waiting—this one heavier, even more discreet. Another scan, another soft beep, and then he pushed it open.
Giselle stepped inside and gasped.
A penthouse. But not just any penthouse.
It was breathtaking, an entire world looking over the city.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along one entire wall, revealing the dazzling Manhattan skyline bathed in the evening glow.
The space was massive—open-concept and carefully arranged in a way that exuded quiet, understated power.
The furniture was dark wood and rich leather, a fireplace crackled in the far corner, and the lighting was warm but understated, allowing the city beyond to take center stage.
“This is…” she started, turning slowly to take it all in. “This is your home?”
Dimitri nodded, watching her carefully.
“Oh my,” she whispered, moving toward the windows. Her fingers brushed the cool glass as she stared at the city spread out before her. “How do you ever leave this place?”
She turned, smiling up at him with genuine wonder. “I’d sit right here and sip my coffee every morning.”
His gaze held hers, something unreadable flickering behind those dark eyes.
“I’m a little jealous,” she admitted, a wistful smile playing on her lips.
Dimitri stepped closer, the warmth of him a stark contrast to the cool glass at her fingertips. “Then stay.”
It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t a suggestion either.
And that was what made it so dangerous.