The city was nothing like the countryside Elena knew. The air smelled of gasoline and coffee instead of soil and wheat, the streets buzzing with cars and strangers who never met each other's eyes. Towering glass buildings rose toward the sky, shimmering like mirrors that refused to show the truth.
Goldie tugged Elena along the crowded sidewalk, her blonde curls bouncing as her excitement spilled over. "This is it! This is where opportunities live, Elena. Forget dirt and debts—we'll find work here. We'll make money, and your family will be safe."
Elena tried to match her friend's hope, though her chest tightened with nerves. They had left the village at dawn, carrying only a small bag each. The plan was simple: find work, send money back to the Rossi farm, and pray it was enough to save them before the Mafia returned.
But plans never felt simple in a city like this.
By noon, their feet ached and their hopes had dimmed. Every café, every store, every small office had turned them away. "No experience," they were told. "No openings. Try somewhere else."
Goldie refused to give up. "There has to be somewhere. Look at these buildings, Elena. Someone has to need help."
Elena glanced up at the tallest tower on the street, its glass walls gleaming in the sunlight. It was the kind of place that looked untouchable, filled with people in suits who had never known hunger. "Not there," she said quickly. "That place wouldn't hire girls like us."
But Goldie was already dragging her across the street.
The sign at the entrance read: Marino Enterprises.
Elena froze. Her stomach flipped as though the ground had shifted beneath her. Marino. She knew that name. Everyone knew that name. It was whispered in taverns, spoken in fear. The Mafia's empire.
"Goldie—" Elena's voice trembled. "We can't go in there."
"Why not?" Goldie argued, her blue eyes fierce. "They're businessmen, aren't they? Mafia or not, money is money. And if they're hiring, I'm not walking away."
Before Elena could protest again, they were inside.
The lobby was vast, all polished marble floors and high ceilings with chandeliers that glittered like fallen stars. Men and women in sleek suits hurried past, barely glancing at the two country girls clutching their worn bags.
Elena felt small, out of place, but Goldie walked boldly to the reception desk. "We're here to apply for work," she announced with a bright smile.
The receptionist blinked at them, clearly unimpressed. "This is not a hiring office. Try the agencies downtown."
Goldie leaned forward. "We'll do anything—cleaning, carrying, serving. Please, just let us speak to someone."
The woman pursed her lips, about to dismiss them, when the manager appeared. He was tall and sharp-featured, his expensive suit tailored to perfection. His gaze swept over the girls with clear disdain.
"What is this?" he demanded.
"Sir," the receptionist explained quickly, "these two are asking for work. I told them—"
The manager cut her off with a dismissive wave. "We don't waste time with beggars. Get out."
Elena's cheeks burned with humiliation. She reached for Goldie's arm. "Come on, let's go."
But Goldie didn't move. Her chin lifted defiantly, her stubbornness refusing to bend. "We're not beggars. We're willing to work harder than anyone here."
The manager sneered. "And yet you dress like peasants. Do you think this is a charity? Leave. Now."
Tears stung Elena's eyes. She tugged harder on Goldie's sleeve. But then, something unexpected happened.
A voice rang out from above. Calm. Commanding.
"Let them stay."
The lobby fell silent. Heads turned upward. Behind the vast glass wall of the top floor office, a man stood watching. He wore no mask, no disguise, just a crisp charcoal suit that fit his powerful frame like a second skin. His dark hair was slicked back, his jaw sharp, his presence undeniable.
Vincenzo Marino.
Elena didn't know it was him. To her, he was just a man—yet not just any man. There was something about him that pulled at the air itself. Something that made her heart stop for a beat.
His eyes were locked on her.
Elena's laughter had filled the lobby just moments before, nervous and soft as she tried to lighten Goldie's boldness. He had heard it. It had caught his attention in a way nothing else did. Sweet, genuine, untainted by greed or fear. In a world of lies, her laughter was real.
And Vincenzo Marino, the heir to an empire built on blood, found himself unable to look away.
The manager stammered. "S-Sir, these girls—"
"I said let them stay." The man's voice was calm but final, cutting through the room like a blade.
The manager paled, bowed slightly, and stepped aside.
Elena's pulse raced as the man disappeared from the glass wall above. She didn't know why someone so powerful would notice them. She didn't even know his name. But when she finally exhaled, she realized her world had shifted again.
Goldie grinned, squeezing Elena's hand. "See? I told you. Someone needs us."
Elena forced a small smile, though her stomach fluttered with unease. She didn't understand what had just happened. All she knew was that the stranger in the glass tower had looked at her—not Goldie, not anyone else—her.
And deep inside, something dangerous whispered that this was only the beginning.
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